Chapter 12 - Tributuaries
MoyerCreek
Discovery: The Many Faces of
Moyer Creek
2\23\03
April 19, 2002, 70 degrees, Partly Sunny, Storm Clouds Approaching
Most of the streams that flow into the Mohawk from the south are mere
trickles during the summer months, providing little in the way of scenic
beauty or opportunities to catch fish. However, in the Spring when water
levels are up and these streams are stocked with trout, beauty and fish
abound. Moyer Creek is such a stream . . . and more.
planks. Main Street Bridge is in the background.
I was elated when he suggested that we start at the Mohawk River and wade
upstream through the village to see some of the structures in and along
the creek. And then, drive up to the gorge to catch fish.
After leaving Dale's van at the bridge at Lehman Park, I drove the Jeep down to Frankfort Harbor and parked on the peninsula that juts to the Mohawk River between the harbor and Moyer Creek.
Frankfort was a small settlement on the north side of the river, but in the early 1800s the name gravitated to the growing village on the south side where Moyer's Creek provided waterpower for mills and the Erie Canal provided access to transportation and commerce. When the Barge Canal was completed in 1915, Frankfort became the location of the merging waters of the Mohawk River and the Barge Canal, and one of the finest harbors in the valley.
2/23/03This
stone abutment once carried the Old Erie Canal across Moyer Creek.
Post card provided by Chris Moyer shows how the dam and aqueduct
looked around 1910.
We stood at the mouth of Moyer Creek at 10:15 a.m.
The river was running high and muddy so there was a distinctive mud-line
between the clear creek water and the river. After making a few casts into
the mud-line, we headed upstream towards the first waterfalls, casting
to several deep runs and pools. A sandpiper flitted among the rocks, complaining
"killdee, killdee, killdee."
Just above the abandoned South Shore Railroad
crossing was the first waterfalls; a remnant of a stone milldam. In recent
years it had been faced with inclined planks, perhaps to prevent ice jams.
Sections of this facing were torn away. Although Moyer Creek is notorious
for ice flows and flooding after a hard winter, this past season was uneventful.
The fish in the pool below the dam had no interest in our lures.
After climbing the bank on the left side of the
dam, much to the consternation of a kenneled dog, we waded up the walled
creek channel into the village and crouch-walked under the Main St Bridge.
The underside of the bridge was made of concrete, steel and bisected sections
of corrugated pipe.
Just above the bridge another manmade waterfalls produced some excellent
looking trout water, but no takers. Same results just upstream in a long,
deep pool next to an unusual looking stone wall. Closer examination revealed
the stone wall and a matching wall on the other side of the creek, were
once the abutments of the aqueduct that carried the Erie Canal across Moyer
Creek. Today the path of that old canal is Canal Street.
Upstream from the aqueduct
abutments is a third waterfalls The pool below this waterfalls was a winner.
My first cast produced a 9-inch rainbow. Three more casts with a gold spoon
produced "two jump and release fish", and a 10 1/2-inch rainbow. Dale also
hooked fish that jumped free.
While Dale continued to fish, I started upstream
and discovered a 3-foot long black snake sunning on the rocks beside the
falls. Despite our antics while catching and releasing fish, that snake
didn't move a muscle until I moved in for a closeup.
Above the waterfalls the creek was shallow, its tree-lined bank eroded.
There were few pools deep enough to hold fish, so we moved quickly over
cobblestones and around slabs of concrete sidewalk, arriving at the park
bridge at 11:35.
Thunderstorms were predicted for early afternoon,
so we decided to drive up to the gorge and fish until it started to rain.
Fifteen minutes later we parked at the first pull off at the bottom of
Frankfort Gorge. After crossing Route 171, we followed a worn path to a
long pool carved in solid rock. We each caught two trout from that pool.
One was a 10-inch rainbow. While Dale fished fastwater runs and pockets,
I moved up to the next pool and caught a 10-inch brown, a 10-inch rainbow
and a 10-1/2 inch rainbow. Feeling guilty with success, I passed up the
next couple of pools, and continued upstream, catching trout along the
way. I lost track of the number of fish I caught, but it was well over
a dozen and two of them measured just shy of 11 inches.
After passing under a bridge, I waded opposite a
wall of shale and sat on a log in the middle of a cobblestone island. Cameras
ready, I waited.
In this area the shale cliffs are high and capped
with hardwoods and evergreens. Limestone layers are mixed with the shale
near the bottom of the cliffs and, along with glacial deposits of cobblestones
and boulders, form the bed of the creek. Hardwoods and hemlock grow creekside
opposite the shale walls. In the summer the creek flows under a tunnel
of leaves, but on this day the trees were just starting to bud.
High on the cliff a shadberry bush bloomed white
in the midday sun. Streamside, the green leaves of tiger lilies poked up
through wet soil. Eyes closed, I could hear the rush of current on both
sides of the island. Nature's stereo.
When Dale appeared, I took photos of him wading
along the bottom of the cliff. He had caught several fish in the runs and
pools along the way, and right on cue caught another for the camera.
Frankfort Gorge. Dale is at the bottom of the cliff.
The last fish of the day, another 10-inch
rainbow, came from the shade of the next bridge at 1:15. Our enthusiasm
for continuing upstream waned with the whiff of rotting meat. Someone had
tossed three dead deer on the bank of the creek next to a parking area
upstream from the bridge. It took only 15 minutes to walk back to the car.
After a quick drive through the gorge, noting piles of trash along the
way, we headed back to Frankfort.
Except for the dead deer and trash, our outing was
a great success. We found relics of history, caught fish and saw some spectacular
scenery. We had seen many faces of Moyer Creek . . . and the threatened
thunderstorms never materialized.
Discovery: Wild Things on Moyer Creek
April 30, 2002 45 degrees Partly Sunny, Showers Predicted
The forest floor was carpeted with skunk cabbage and trilliums.
The plan was simple. Explore Moyer Creek from Lehman
Park up to the first bridge on Frankfort Gorge Road (Route 171), and then
drive up to the Gorge to catch some trout. We started at 10:15 a.m. with
few expectations. After all we saw most of the historical structures along
the creek on our last trip and we knew there were very few fish in this
lower section. So, what could this section offer?.
There was plenty of great looking pools and runs and they may have held
fish, but they weren't interested in hardware. No matter, we made
many discoveries along the way.
Just upstream from a long wall of quarried limestone,
the creek makes a sharp turn at the bottom of a slipbank. This bank is
a major source of gravel and cobblestones that form the huge bar at the
mouth of the creek. Trees had fallen from the top of the bank, illustrating
how much "fill" had fallen into the creek this past season. A great blue
heron was standing on one of the downed trees. It flew upstream just out
of sight, and then played tag with me as I progressed up the creek. It
didn't want to leave the area. Apparently it knew how to catch fish.
that form the huge bar at the mouth of Moyer Creek.
We arrived at the Route 5S Bridges at 11:25 and spent several minutes fishing the deep pools and runs. Upstream from the bridge were several homes. Behind some of the homes the bank was covered with junk --- long established dumps ---the first we had seen on the creek.
Above the bridge the creek valley
opens up to fields, berry bushes, sumac, honey suckle and young trees,
mostly poplar. Deer sign was abundant. While Dale was concentrating on
climbing down to the creek, a mallard hen exploded from a clump of grass.
Closer investigation revealed a nest filled with eggs.
We arrived at the takeout bridge at noon. So did
the predicted showers. We hadn't caught a single fish and our trip to the
Gorge was rained out, but we had discovered wild things among the many
faces of Moyer Creek.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Frankfort, select New York, press GO!
Click on margin arrows to follow the path of the Mohawk River.
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