Have a 'Rice' Day

     With Labor Day a distant memory and summer rapidly fading I thought it would be a good time for a quiet paddle on the Hudson River.
     Wrong again.
     No sooner had I launched from the southern end of Lock 6 in Fort Miller when the sharp "SKEWK" of a green heron rocked my boat. There were two of them and they were not happy. I was just lazily drifting along the east bank, with no evil intent whatsoever,  but the birds were having none of it. They hopscotched just ahead of me loudly voicing their irritation at my invasion of their territory. 
     Eventually I must have crossed some invisible boundary because the herons declared victory and things settled down. That's when a flock of ducks exploded out of nearby cattails with raucous quacking. This was good for a sharp spike in my heart-rate so I decided to slip into a shallow bay to calm down. I was idly enjoying the scenery when I happened to look down to see the heavy weight champion of the snapping turtle world submerged just a few inches below my boat. He was about half as big as the little 12' solo canoe I was in. I had recently found an Old Town Pack on Craigslist and this was one of my first outings in the tiny craft. I was still getting used to its balance and stability, a little nervous to begin with, and the prospect of Snappy breaching like a whale and flipping me over only added to my jitters.
     Maybe that's why a great blue heron decided to distract me by flapping out of a nearby tree and flying just feet over my head, croaking ferociously the whole time. By then I was like a Bond martini, 'Shaken, not stirred'. Having totally disrupted the ecology on one side of the river, I decided to cross over to the opposite bank in search of a little serenity. That worked for a bit but I soon found myself in the churning waters below the Crockers Reef rapids. Maybe it was just an illusion of the waning daylight but that's when I swear I saw the ghost of Israel Putnam running the whitewater in his bark canoe, just beyond reach of a hail of arrows! I sure was enjoying my nice quiet evening paddle... 

     To access this part of the Hudson you can leave your vehicle at Mill Park and carry a boat the quarter mile or so to a rocky point where the canal and river merge. As you paddle downstream, the eastern shore is literally the new kid on the block. These are 'made' lands, built from shale excavated when the canal was dug over a hundred years ago. There are five or six acres here owned by the New York State Canal Corporation, with some of it leased to nearby homeowners. Our good friends, the Cushings, have built an attractive deck and dock on this shoreline. Other sections are wilder. It's interesting to see how plants have colonized what was essentially bare ground not too long ago.

Purple loosestrife and yellow sneezeweed share a moment on the 'spoils' shore

     Just beyond the area of canal spoils you'll see a patch of emergent vegetation growing out of shallow water. These are wild rice beds and well worth exploring. Wild rice (Zizania aquatica), while not necessarily rare, is not common either. It's a semi-aquatic grass that grows in quiet water two to four foot deep. The plant is a native annual only related to the familiar white rice in that they are both in the grass family. 

The wild rice beds seen from shore

     Maturing in fall, wild rice is a favorite food of both people and waterfowl. It may be one of the reasons this section of the river hosts so many ducks and geese. Harvesting wild rice is a cherished tradition among the Ojibwa of northern Minnesota. They drift amongst rice beds in a canoe, bending the plants into the boat and gently tapping them with 'knockers' to collect the prized grain which has no gluten, is high in antioxidants and may lower cholesterol. 

Then and...

...Now

Web images

     That's the way it's been done for millennia but today most of the wild rice found in stores is grown commercially in California and harvested with a combine. Native Americans refer to this disparagingly as 'paddy rice', lacking the delicate flavors and textures of the true wild variety. I wouldn't advise harvesting the small Fort Miller beds with a combine or a canoe. Best to leave them for the birds and to self-propagate. 

It's wild (rice) out here

     A little ways further you'll see Slocum Creek flowing into the Hudson from the east. The area is lush with aquatic vegetation. This stream drains a small watershed between the Taconic hills and the river. You can paddle a short distance up it to where shale outcrops block the way. On the other side of Rt. 4 are old abutments where the original Champlain Canal crossed the creek. You might also see the path of an abandoned trolley line that paralleled the canal. Further up its coarse Slocum has cut a deep ravine that looks interesting but is on private property and off-limits. At one point up East Road Slocum Creek and the Moses Kill are close to merging. Stay tuned to see what happens there over the next few thousand years.

     A project to rebuild a small bridge connecting two sections of River Road is currently underway where the creek flows into the Hudson. This would be a great place for a small parking spot and canoe launching site but I doubt it will happen. Access for paddlers and fishermen seems to be the last thing on the mind of engineers when they design bridges and that is a shame. Small car-topped kayaks have become ubiquitous and people want places to put them in the water. Washington County spends tax dollars encouraging people to visit and recreate here but when they come they're more likely to be greeted by POSTED signs than by easy access to the area's natural attractions. 

The Barn on Snappy's bay

     There's a small island just offshore from the mouth of Slocum Creek and a short distance further is a little tucked in bay (Snappy's home) where you can see the attractive Barn at Bassett House Retreat Center. Below this point the river narrows somewhat, pinched by shale ledges on the eastern shore. Kids used to have a rope swing here, attached to a big oak tree and good for a swooping thrill. For some reason the tree was cut down. Wouldn't want anyone having good old-fashioned fun now, would we...

Shale ledges, no swinging allowed

     You can easily paddle downriver to Lock 5 and Hudson Crossing Park on this flatwater stretch. Indeed, by using the canal locks you could conceivably go all the way to the Atlantic (and beyond) without ever getting out of your boat. Maybe someday, but on my short outing I headed over to the western shore crossing the line between Washington and Saratoga County somewhere in the middle of the river. Thankfully, no border wall here. At least not yet.

     In a role reversal of sorts the Saratoga County side is actually less developed, more natural than the Washington County side. Here you'll find wooded banks sloping down to the water. There are shallow, beach like stretches - not exactly sandy but not mucky either - that invite a swim. One feature to look for is an enchanting little alcove where Pecks Creek drops over ledges before flowing into the Hudson. I believe this is on the Foster farm because I remember having big fun sliding into the water here with Tom and Jack. That was many years ago when we were kids.

     As you paddle past outcrops, notice how the layered shale is tilted at angles. These rocks were originally horizontal, formed when sediments eroded off the Taconics settled into a sea filled trough. Subsequent tectonic forces cracked and shifted the formation. In ridges on my farm I've observed harder, more resistant layers of mudstone in the shale. Along with erosion, these factors lead to some topographic relief in what is essentially a lowland valley.
     Crockers Reef is a good example. Here the buckled shale has formed a geologically temporary obstacle to the Hudson's flow. It bridges between the hamlet of Fort Miller and what's called Harris's to the west. And it's the reason both locales exist because the drop creates water power that has been exploited for centuries. Before that it may have been a fording site with an actual fort built on the Saratoga County side just above the rapids.
         

     On the evening of my paddle I returned to Lock 6 by crossing at the bottom of the reef. The water boils and surges here, a little intimidating but not really dangerous. In times of low flow I've actually been able to paddle (hard) up into the rapids where you can get out and (carefully) rock hop around. But that pales compared to a story told about Israel Putnam's adventure here.

Israel "don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes" Putnam

aka Old Put

     Putnam (1718-1790) became a legendary Major General during the Revolution serving directly under George Washington. Prior to that, in the French and Indian Wars, he fought with Rogers Rangers. He was noted for his bravery and hair-raising escapes. At one point, Indians had captured and tied him to a tree, ready to burn their enemy alive. With the help of a sudden thunderstorm he managed to get out of that hot situation. Here on the Hudson he was stationed at the fort on the west bank. One day he canoed across the river in the calm water above the rapids. After conducting his business on the east side he got in his boat ready to return when he was confronted by a band of Indians on the bank above ready to ambush him. There was a brief moments stare down before Putnam swung his canoe around and into the rapids, away from his attackers. It must have been one wild ride because the Indians were so amazed that they let him go, even giving a whoop of admiration at his daring escape.

"Can't catch me here!"

     The scene was somewhat less exciting as I made my way back across the river to the take out. The only other people were a mom, dad and little girl fishing from the rocky point. All was quiet now with the only sound coming from a guy in a tiny canoe as he let out a little whoop of admiration for this lovely place.

DID YOU KNOW...
     The Town of Putnam in northern Washington County was named for Israel Putnam.

Image from the Town's web site

       

'Round Cement Mountain

     You know you're getting old when it seems to take years to climb the stairs. The 'stairs' I'm thinking of are the stepped pools of the lower Battenkill River. Starting from the confluence with the Hudson there are a half dozen of these damned flat waters leading up to Center Falls. Above there the river flows free. Each stair step offers short, interesting paddle trips. A while back I had the idea to profile each of them starting from where the two rivers merge and working upstream. 

Battenkill meets Hudson

     The exertion must have been too much for this tired farmer because I seem to have stalled out at Middle Falls. Long time readers may notice a pattern. I was also going to visit all five of the state forests in southeastern Washington County. Did four but the fifth is still awaiting my arrival. And then there was my plan to do a series on all of the canal locks. Two done with quite a few to go. As the saying goes... a man's reach should exceed his grasp.
     Years ago I was among a group of paddlers who met with the developers of the Middle Falls hydro facility. We worked out access to the river for canoeing and fishing. Unfortunately there was never any signage and the site, strewn with rusty equipment and overgrown, was unappealing. Although I launched from there a number of times, it always felt like trespassing. Consequently, few people used this section of the river.

     Today the situation is much improved. The Battenkill Conservancy working with Boralex (the current hydro operator) has created an attractive place to park and get to the water. Look for a Corridor Connection sign on the Easton (south) side of the river at the Rt. 29/40 bridge. It's a short carry to where you can either float over the top of the debris buoys or go around where they attach to the shore on the upstream end.

     The dam creates a pond with very little current. On a recent trip we easily paddled to above the Hegeman Bridge and could have gone further if time had allowed. While certainly not wilderness, the area has a primitive feel. Lush vegetation crowds the banks. It's as if you are on a southern bayou. Dense patches of Japanese knotweed (an invasive) are especially noticeable. 
     Early in the trip, just beyond the houses and backyards of Middle Falls, you'll see a narrow channel leading into a wetland of emergent aquatic plants. This can be explored, dependent on water level. A little further look for Hartshorn Brook entering on the left as you paddle upstream. Another rewarding place for the naturalist. Cat tails, pickerel weed and lily pads galore.

     The river here is wide and lazy. Cottonwood, sycamore, black willow and box elder line the shore. We saw a variety of birds including blue and green herons, a white egret, cormorants, kingfishers and cedar waxwings as well as the ubiquitous geese and ducks. What appeared to be an osprey nest crowned a structure in the Peckham quarry and eagles are also a possibility.
     Mention Cement Mountain and most locals will look at you like...well, like you've got cement in your head. But look at the topo map and there it is: Cement Mtn. You can see all 50 feet of it rising up from the right bank as you paddle upstream. Obviously, Everest is not about to be dethroned. 

     This is part of a five mile long block of limestone/dolostone that outcrops from Bald Mountain south thru Middle Falls and on into the Town of Easton. This feature has been a controversial enigma to geologists for many years, with a consensus gradually emerging that it is part of a carbonate shelf that developed off ancestral North America some 500 million years ago. During the Taconic Orogeny pieces of the shelf were broken off and scrapped along beneath the mudstones being thrust up onto the edge of the ancient continent. Subsequent erosion has left some of these fragments exposed, much like melting will reveal the detritus carried by a glacier. 

Screen shot of geologic map by W.B. Bosworth - blue band is carbonate block

     This detached block is what creates the falls here and the energy of the water has been put to use in many ways. The area was originally known as Arkansaw and then Galesville before finally settling as Middle Falls. Grist, plaster and woolen/knitting mills have harnessed the river in the past. At the base of the falls you can still see the foundations of some of these early enterprises. Today the hydropower is used by Boralex to make 2MW's of electricity. That's enough for 900 people.

     The carbonate rock has also been extensively quarried from the earliest days up to the present. Robert Lowber operated ten lime kilns at Bald Mountain in the 1850's and 60's. Some still stand. There's also a large water filled quarry between Rt. 40 and Fiddlers Elbow Road. Kids use to swim there but now it's off-limits. Today the Peckham Company has operations right where you launch canoes. They produce crushed stone and asphalt from the deposits of Cement Mountain and also have a newer quarry a few miles to the south. I'm guessing that the mountain got its name from the plaster and cement industries that John Gale developed here some 200 years ago. 

     Paddling upstream beneath an old railroad bridge you'll hardly be aware of all the mining and industrial activity that has gone on just a few feet away. Nor will it be obvious that 12,000 to 13,000 years ago this area was entirely submerged beneath the waters of glacial Lake Albany. From the present site of the Village of Greenwich the meltwater swollen Battenkill flowed into the lake depositing its sediment load as a large fan shaped delta that stretches from the Hand's and BJ's fields to the south to the Rt. 29 fairgrounds and on up to the Bald Mountain flats. When Lake Albany eventually drained the river began cutting down into its delta until it encountered the newly exposed barrier of the carbonate block where it makes a sharp right turn and flows along the edge of the limestone, finally jumping across it at Middle Falls.

Google Earth screen shot - Cement Mountain on lower left

     You can paddle thru all this history and even pass under some lost history at the site of the Hegeman Bridge. Here an old, much loved metal truss bridge was replaced with a bland concrete structure some years ago. We turned around above here but with time and energy you might be able to go all the way up to the base of the next dam on the backside of Greenwich. With a slight current the way back goes quickly. Just point the bow downriver and be sure to turn right at Cement Mountain.