"I don't think we will see the sun today," said Andy, as we headed east from Perrysburg, Ohio. The 8:00 a.m. skies, totally overcast, dribbled lightly as we left the Toledo area.At Brandywine Falls, 108 steps led down to overlooks of a bridal veil waterfall. A thriving town based on water power existed here in the first half of the 19th century. The town died as Akron and Cleveland grew along the rail lines. Only some foundations and the 60-foot waterfall remain.
The falls formed after the last Ice Age as Berea sandstone protected underlying softer deep red Bedford shale. The base of the waterfall exposed rocks that had formed 300-400 million years ago.
The Frazee House, built in 1826 on Canal Road and preserved in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park as one of the older homes in the valley, exemplifies the essence of Federalist-style architecture. Stephen Frazee bought 600 acres of Connecticut Region land and left the East to be a gentleman farmer and landowner in what became the state of Ohio.
The Ohio and Erie Canal on the Cuyahoga River, completed in 1827, linked Cleveland to Akron by a water transportation system. By 1832, the Canal connected to the Ohio River and offered cheap and easy access for marketable goods. A total of 44 locks along the Cuyahoga River raised and lowered boats 395 feet to and from Lake Erie. The Federal government has preserved 20 miles of the Canal with adjoining historical points of interest along the Towpath where mules pulled canal boats. What a different world we live in today!
A large turtle posed on a sunken log. "Look," I pointed, but only some ripples marked the spot where he disappeared in the bog. A large goose preened itself in the marsh, and farther on a blue heron stood silently at the river's edge. But no beavers swam out to greet us.
The park is as varied as the landscape and history. Since it encompasses 33,000 acres along the Cuyahoga River Valley between Akron and Cleveland, it includes forests, meadows, streams, lakes, waterfalls, rock outcroppings, farm fields, historic villages and canal resources. Every turn provided spectacular photographic opportunities. But it would never have been preserved if it had not been for the efforts of John F. Seiberling, the grandson of the founder of Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company and the Akron Metropolitan Park District. Starting in the 1920's, Seiberling promoted the idea of a comprehensive park, supported by the Federal government.
He wrote, "We will never see the land as our ancestors did. But we can understand what made it beautiful and why they lived and died to preserve it. And in preserving it for future generations, we will preserve something of ourselves... There is no more worthwhile cause."
In 1996, Congressman Ralph Regula sponsored legislation that expanded the park vision. Through his work, the national park has become physically connected to local parks and 40 communities along the old Ohio and Erie Canal.
Remnants of the Conrad Botzum Farmstead reminded visitors of life along the Towpath in the 1800's, but Botzum was luckier than most with a ready transportation system for his produce.
At 4:45 p.m., without a ray of sunlight on a totally overcast October day, Blue Hen Falls blazed with color. We descended the steep trail across a foot bridge amidst a fiery understory of orange, yellow and red.
"The tree tops are bare," said Andy. But the camera lens saw only the brilliance of autumn foliage.
The lock at Hell's Half-Acre probably attracted tired boatsmen who wanted beer at the tavern. The big white house served as tavern, home and supposedly the lockmaster's headquarters, but no records indicated a lockmaster ever lived or worked here. Regardless, the colorful name stuck.
Sixty-two steps led to Bridal Veil Falls. We strolled along the wooded path and boardwalk, following the stream downhill. A memorial stone read, "Ancient saying--You can't tell how far a frog can jump by looking at it." I thought, what a great quote for a college essay.
Tinker Creek Gorge Overlook inspired gasps of awe, but oh how much more beautiful the colors would appear with blue sky and sunshine.
Workers in the 1820's cut sandstone blocks to build Lock #29, an aqueduct that carried canal boats right over the Cuyahoga River. Enterprising businessmen constructed a grist mill on the riverbank in 1832 to utilize water power to grind the corn and efficiently load the flour right onto the boats to transport it to market. Charles Thomas and Chandler Moody bought the mill in 1885. They renamed it, expanded it and kept a thriving business going until 1931, when it burned to the ground.
Peninsula Depot, built in 1879 in Peninsula Village, was restored to its 1925 appearance when the Ohio and Erie Canalway Towpath and later the railroad carried goods and passengers along the Cuyahoga River.
Today it serves the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad seasonally for tourists. In this low-key, quiet countryside, it's hard to believe that life teemed less than a hundred years ago. Everett Covered Bridge on Everett Road is the only remaining covered bridge in the county. In 1800, Ohio boasted 2,000 such bridges, the most of any state in the country at that time.
Sixty-two steps led to Bridal Veil Falls. We strolled along the wooded path and boardwalk, following the stream downhill. A memorial stone read, "Ancient saying--You can't tell how far a frog can jump by looking at it." I thought, what a great quote for a college essay.
Tinker Creek Gorge Overlook inspired gasps of awe, but oh how much more beautiful the colors would appear with blue sky and sunshine.
Workers in the 1820's cut sandstone blocks to build Lock #29, an aqueduct that carried canal boats right over the Cuyahoga River. Enterprising businessmen constructed a grist mill on the riverbank in 1832 to utilize water power to grind the corn and efficiently load the flour right onto the boats to transport it to market. Charles Thomas and Chandler Moody bought the mill in 1885. They renamed it, expanded it and kept a thriving business going until 1931, when it burned to the ground.
Peninsula Depot, built in 1879 in Peninsula Village, was restored to its 1925 appearance when the Ohio and Erie Canalway Towpath and later the railroad carried goods and passengers along the Cuyahoga River.
Today it serves the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad seasonally for tourists. In this low-key, quiet countryside, it's hard to believe that life teemed less than a hundred years ago. Everett Covered Bridge on Everett Road is the only remaining covered bridge in the county. In 1800, Ohio boasted 2,000 such bridges, the most of any state in the country at that time.
A school group of third graders stopped for a break near the bridge. "Find a separate spot and do your writing," ordered the teacher. "You may eat your fishy crackers, but you may not talk to each other. You have ten minutes to write."
"I can follow those rules," I told Andy, and I put pen to paper.
That was without fishy crackers.
At Beaver Marsh we walked a mile along the old Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, stepping where boatmen and their mules trod in the 1800's. Beavers took over when the canals were abandoned, and eventually the beaver dams swamped an old auto salvage lot to create a massive pond and marsh. We would never have known that the area was ever "civilized."
Nearby, Lock #26, decayed and green with algae, preserved the reminders of days gone by. Here, a massive flood in 1828 stalled the canal boats. The only thing left to eat for canal travelers was corn meal for pancakes, earning this lock the nickname Pancake Lock.
Two pair of mallards nibbled on algae greens on the canal surface. "Bottoms up," I joked as in unison they dipped their heads under the water.
"They mate for life," Andy reminded me.
That was without fishy crackers.At Beaver Marsh we walked a mile along the old Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, stepping where boatmen and their mules trod in the 1800's. Beavers took over when the canals were abandoned, and eventually the beaver dams swamped an old auto salvage lot to create a massive pond and marsh. We would never have known that the area was ever "civilized."
Nearby, Lock #26, decayed and green with algae, preserved the reminders of days gone by. Here, a massive flood in 1828 stalled the canal boats. The only thing left to eat for canal travelers was corn meal for pancakes, earning this lock the nickname Pancake Lock.
Two pair of mallards nibbled on algae greens on the canal surface. "Bottoms up," I joked as in unison they dipped their heads under the water.
"They mate for life," Andy reminded me.
A large turtle posed on a sunken log. "Look," I pointed, but only some ripples marked the spot where he disappeared in the bog. A large goose preened itself in the marsh, and farther on a blue heron stood silently at the river's edge. But no beavers swam out to greet us.
The park is as varied as the landscape and history. Since it encompasses 33,000 acres along the Cuyahoga River Valley between Akron and Cleveland, it includes forests, meadows, streams, lakes, waterfalls, rock outcroppings, farm fields, historic villages and canal resources. Every turn provided spectacular photographic opportunities. But it would never have been preserved if it had not been for the efforts of John F. Seiberling, the grandson of the founder of Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company and the Akron Metropolitan Park District. Starting in the 1920's, Seiberling promoted the idea of a comprehensive park, supported by the Federal government.
He wrote, "We will never see the land as our ancestors did. But we can understand what made it beautiful and why they lived and died to preserve it. And in preserving it for future generations, we will preserve something of ourselves... There is no more worthwhile cause."In 1996, Congressman Ralph Regula sponsored legislation that expanded the park vision. Through his work, the national park has become physically connected to local parks and 40 communities along the old Ohio and Erie Canal.
Remnants of the Conrad Botzum Farmstead reminded visitors of life along the Towpath in the 1800's, but Botzum was luckier than most with a ready transportation system for his produce.
At 4:45 p.m., without a ray of sunlight on a totally overcast October day, Blue Hen Falls blazed with color. We descended the steep trail across a foot bridge amidst a fiery understory of orange, yellow and red."The tree tops are bare," said Andy. But the camera lens saw only the brilliance of autumn foliage.
"I'd say we lucked out today," I told Andy.
"You got that right," he agreed. "Not a drop of rain all day once we left Perrysburg, but water, water everywhere."
No comments:
Post a Comment