Knobology

     The things I do for science.
     I'm on a narrow rib of rock. To my left the cliff drops off a hundred feet or so. To my right I'm looking at tree tops. It's hard to tell how far down to tree bottoms. With one hand clinging to a hold I use the other hand to pull out my Peterson Field Guide to Ferns.
Then gingerly thumb thru until I get to page 136. And there it is! 
Pellaea atropurpurea. Purple-Stemmed Cliffbrake. Lance shaped leaflets with inrolled margins, purplish-brown stalk, about a foot tall. Perfect match except for one thing... 

     I'm no scientist. Not much of a rock climber either. Just curious. Just trying to solve a small mystery. What's a plant that favors dry limestone crevices doing growing out of a crack here? I was on Starks Knob after all. Composed entirely of volcanic pillow basalt. Or is it? I looked closely at the rock just inches from my face. Later I did a little more research. Slowly clues to this out of place plant began to emerge.

     The steep hill north of Schuylerville was first scientifically scrutinized in 1901 when J.B. Woodworth, a geologist with the New York State Museum recognized its uniqueness. Woodworth may also have been the first to call it Starks Knob after General John Stark who held positions here in October 1777 to block British retreat after the Battle of Saratoga. 
     Woodworth's detailed description of the rock was so good that it is still referred to today. What's even more remarkable is that the geology was largely hidden beneath trees and vegetation at the time. That was about to change. 

The Knob in 1901

     Over the next decade the construction of the Barge Canal and other road projects required large amounts of rip-rap (referred to as 'road metal' back then).The Knob was seen as a convenient local source and much of its eastern face was quarried off. Old photos reveal a remarkable change between 1901 and 1912. This gave the next geologist to study it a much cleared picture of the Knob's structure. H.P. Cushing's 'The Northumberland Volcanic Plug' is included in the 1914 State Museum Bulletin Geology of Saratoga Springs and Vicinity co-authored with R. Ruedemann.

The Knob in 1910

     Cushing noted the numerous amygdules (inclusions) and intervening veins of white calcite associated with the black 'lava rock' that makes up the bulk of the hill. So there it was...the clue needed to explain why a lime loving fern was growing here, a long way from any real limestone cliff. Apparently there is enough calcium in the cracks and inclusions to satisfy purple-stemmed cliffbrake's requirements and thus it's here, sparse and a little bedraggled, but here. 

     After examining the fern I cautiously made my way up the knife edge to the top of the Knob, passing a few lavender harebells and lots of poison ivy along the way. There's a small open area on the summit with an upright limestone slab that used to have a bronze plaque on it explaining the sites history. Many years ago some useless miscreants chiseled off the bolts securing the plaque and took it. Now there's a newer display with an interesting map of military positions during the Revolution. Note that you don't have to climb the rock to get here. There's a short steep trail that comes up from Starks Knob Road. Also note that this is a somewhat precarious spot with nothing between you and the cliff edge but more poison ivy. Drunks and people with small children and stupid dogs (or small dogs and stupid children) ... you have been warned. If you fall off the area would probably be closed, ruining it for the rest of us. 

     At one time the State Museum owned a number of unique geologic sites called 'Scientific Reservations'. Today only two remain and both are in Saratoga County. Lester Park, in the Town of Greenfield, features stromatolite fossils while Starks Knob has the pillow basalt. Credit geologist Ed Landing for revitalizing both locations in the late 1990's. Speaking of geologists, I've long suspected they take great pleasure in confusing terminology that baffles the rest of us. Case in point: I've seen the Knob deposits variously described as lava rock, pitchstone, trap, igneous extrusions and the current nom du jour ... pillow basalt.


WISH YOU WERE HERE... 

     The State Museum has put up informative signs explaining the geology of the Knob. Reading the details while standing next to the rock is definitely the way to go. For now I'll offer a brief synopsis. Woodworth and Cushing, the early investigators, weren't sure if the Knob was a volcanic neck or part of a flow, whether it developed in place or was brought here by crustal movements. Since their time the theory of plate tectonics, a clearer understanding of the Taconic Orogeny and new technology that has let us see lava extruding on the sea floor have helped in deciphering the Knob.

Web image

     Some 450 million years ago this area was in the southern hemisphere and under the ocean. As two of Earth's plates converged the crust was stressed to the point of fracture with molten rock flowing out of fissures into cold sea water. The one to two foot pillows of basalt were the result as the rock quickly cooled. It's thought by some that the limestone in and between the pillows was formed not biologically, but chemically as the red hot lava 'steamed' carbon dioxide and calcium out of the sea water. With continued plate convergence the pillows, along with the shales and mudstones they were embedded in, were pushed westward at the leading edge of what would become the Taconic Mountains. There followed hundreds of million years erosion and the work of some quarrymen to expose the Knob we see today. 

Looking across the canal at the quarried Knob (early 1900's?)  - web image

Map by W. Kidd

OVER THE TOP...

     Rock, fern, history. I lingered on top absorbing it all as a hot summer day faded into twilight. That's when things started happening. "Pop...Pop...Pop" along with little explosions of color and light in the hills across the river. When I was a kid we just called this 'The Volcano' and now the kid in me thought "Here we go! I'm standing on top of an erupting volcano!"
     Then I remembered...this was the evening of July 4th. With most of the big fireworks displays cancelled some individuals had apparently decided to enliven the holiday (and bolster the Chinese economy) by staging their own shows.
     Next came a big glowing orange floating up from the eastern horizon. Actually the full moon, of course, but boy did it look fat and juicy enough to eat. Finally I was surrounded by on and off sparklers as fireflies took the stage for their nightly performance. These little alchemists mix luciferase with luciferin to produce the flashes of light that say 'summer' like nothing else.

     Geology may get top billing at the Knob but all the other 'ologies' play strong supporting roles. The entomology of the fireflies and all the other insects one can find crawling/flying over the rock. The mycology of the indigo milky mushrooms that sometimes pop up around the base. The bryology of the mosses that cling to the basalt. The meteorology of the towering thunderheads and flashing lightening bolts that mesmerize as they dance above the Vermont mountains to the east. The archaeology that chronicles the activity of those who came before us.
     What is it about high places? Why are they such good places to think? Starks Knob isn't really that high and I'm not prone to deep thought, but I found myself pondering our relationship to science while on top. There are those with narrow minds and expansive egos who speak with beguiling certitude. The simplicity and self-assuredness of their pronouncements appeal to some. Science, on the other hand, is more circumspect. After close observation and controlled experiment, after hypothesis, data collection and peer review it may arrive at a cautious conclusion: "Given the facts and understanding we have at this point it appears that..." 
     The first scientists to investigate Starks Knob didn't have all the answers. But they were remarkably perceptive and others since then have filled in the gaps. For my part I'll continue to look to science as a way of making sense of the world. And I'm looking forward to many future visits to this little pile of rock pillows.
I'm still in knobology kindergarten with lots to learn.

***

   
     Those more attuned to the aesthetic than the scientific will still find a visit to the Knob rewarding. Greenwich author/artist James Howard Kunstler has a series of paintings done from the top of the Knob. Take a look here. I've also seen some striking photos taken from the same vantage, although I can't remember where and by whom. One suggestion: in the fall the Hudson is sometimes cloaked in a blanket of fog and mist. Catch that at sunrise from the Knob and you could get a memorable image. Also, the contrast of the purple blooms of spotted knapweed against the black rock can be eye catching. Pick any sunny summer day. Finally you'll want to check out Michelle Vara's whimsical sculpture of Henry Knox hauling cannon. It's in the pocket park Along Rt. 4 at the base of the Knob. 

Ghostly beasts below the Knob

     For history there are so many books. You might ask the Town of Saratoga's Historian for a suggestion. Contact the office here..
Thomas Wood's Around the Town of Saratoga is filled with old photos of the area. It's in the Images of America series. To learn more about General John Stark try Stark by Richard and John Polhemus. Read it from the top of the Knob for extra points. 
  

          

  

Puddle jumper

     Old friends are the best friends. Those whom you've shared so much life with that the memories and the laughs come easily. You finish each others sentences, there's a relaxed comfort, you go way back together. If you're lucky you have several friends like that. Maybe even a few places. I'm thinking of spots you're drawn to again and again. Could be a lake or a river, a trail or simply your own backyard. It's where you've connected with nature, with the world outside yourself. It's where you feel a sense of belonging.
     For me, River Road has always been a place like that. It's mostly dirt and hugs the bank of the Hudson along Washington County's western edge. Our relationship began many years ago, back in my high school days. When some teachers "blah, blah, blah" got to be too much I'ld ask to go to the bathroom, then quickly change into shorts and running shoes before escaping out the school's backdoor. I knew it meant a trip to the Principle's Office when I came back but I didn't care. For a few hours I was free while the rest of the suckers sat at their desks in a lecture-induced stupor.

Riverside Cemetery snuggled between the Hudson and River Road

     North out of town, then across the green bridge where I saw a quiet backroad veering off to the left. Seemed like a good place to hide, just in case they came looking for me. That's how I found paradise. Water on one side, woods on the other, a gravel lane in between. A quaint hamlet, canal locks and a tree shaded cemetery. I could run for miles thru country like this and I did. 
     Even after the ordeal of school was a distant memory I kept running River Road. Biking, birdwatching and canoe launching as well. Getting to know the area's geology, its natural and human history, it architecture and the people who lived there. In short, building a deep, lasting relationship with the place.

River and road at twilight

     Which made me wonder...why hadn't I ever paddled the pond? It's near the southern end of River Road, just a short ways off Rt. 4. Just a little backwater, weedy and narrow but possibly canoe-able. No name that I'm aware of. Little more than an overgrown puddle.
     The pond is part of The Nature Conservancy's Denton Preserve. Most people visit the preserve from a pull-off along Rt. 4. Heading east from the entrance are trails, vernal pools, dramatic shale ridges and the bed of a long defunct trolley line. The rest of the preserve lies to the west between Rt. 4 and the Hudson with River Road giving access for birding and botanizing.

The pond and River Road are on the left in this map of Denton Preserve

     A culvert under the road serves as an umbilical connecting the pond and the river. When river levels are high water flows into the pond, then back out when levels drop. There's room to park a couple of cars, mostly used by people fishing at a small beach on the Hudson. You can use the beach to launch canoes onto the river or, alternately, take your chances on the pond.

This will have to do until a real beach comes along

     For most paddlers the river may be the better option. The pond doesn't exactly shout "Welcome. Happy to see you." Undeterred but with some difficulty I shoved off from some chunks of concrete rip-rap, past a half submerged tire into murky water totally covered in green. The murkiness comes from clay soil while the green turned out to be shore to shore duckweed, a tiny aquatic said to be the smallest of flowering plants.

Ready or not, here I come...

     The pond is only a few feet deep and every stroke festooned my paddle with long strands of milfoil and other submerged vegetation. But despite these shortcomings I soon found myself mesmerized. Here was nature with her hair down, a little disheveled, a little out of control. Definitely not sanitized for my viewing pleasure. Bullfrogs made the air vibrate with their loud croaks. A moss covered rock suddenly sank below the water - not a rock at all but the shell of a big snapper. Dragon flies darted about, water skimmers dimpled the surface, fish jumped and a heron flew overhead. A beaver cruised beside me suddenly slapping the water with his tail and disappearing below. An alligator wouldn't have seemed out of place - the pond has that kind of southern blackwater feel to it. 

Another green world - with yellow iris for accent

     The overwhelming green of everything was broken by patches of yellow iris and the tiny yellow blooms of bladderwort. There were pickerel weeds and bur-reeds along with white lily pad flowers. Red wing blackbirds flitted in and out of cattails. A white-tailed deer watched me from shore. The surrounding upland was lush with big trees and flowering shrubs but there was no getting there. Between open water and dry ground was a no-go zone of muck and impenetrable growth. I just stayed in the deepest water, went as far as I could go and turned around (with some difficulty), satiated by nature and surprised that my old friend River Road had kept this magical place a secret for so long.

LATER...

     Puddles have their appeal. After enjoying my River Road outing another small pond came to mind. Located alongside Rt. 4 up past Fort Miller this one has a parking lot, picnic tables and mowed lawns...the high rent district of tiny paddle spots. It also has a thick carpet of invasive water chestnut ringing most of its perimeter.. Here, as at the River Road pond, pristine does not apply.

Water chestnut showing air bladders that allow it to float on the surface

     There's an easy put-in just a few feet from parking. Look for thick beds of soft-stem bulrush and the shorter spike rush (both in the sedge family despite their names). In the shallows pretty pink flowers were blooming - possibly a type of aquatic smartweed. Also in flower were blue flag iris, a native plant unlike the yellow iris which is invasive.

     I spent a leisurely hour in a clockwise circle of the shoreline. The bank opposite the parking lot/put-in seems to be the old Champlain Canal's towpath with the slowly filling canal ditch just beyond. Actually, the pond may have been part of the canal system
(maybe a boat basin?) but I'm not sure. Anybody know the history here?

     The Rt. 4 pull-off pond (for lack of a better name) seems to be a popular fishing spot for kids and families but its wildlife and botany may also appeal to nature oriented paddlers. It makes up in convenience for what it lacks in size...a puddle jumpers type of place. 

Google Earth screen shot of Hudson River with Rt.4 to the right.

The pull-off pond is top center while the River Road pond is at

bottom right, just a narrow green strip angling away from the river.

SEEN...

A turtle depositing eggs in soft earth

Whoa down! Where turtles cross Rt. 4 

This big guy was unfazed by me or my boat. Probably not a fan of my blog either.