River of Many Treasures

By CARL E. FEATHER - Lifestyle Editor - cfeather@starbeacon.com
Star Beacon

May 06, 2008 12:11 am

— Crude hexagons flash across the silted, brown background of river rock as our canoe slices through their jiggling patterns. The dull mosaics and gentle, sluggish ride create the illusion of aquatic hitch-hiking on the back of snapping turtle.
American toads sing on the shore, and a warm breeze ripples the water, pushing our two-man canoe toward a shelf of river rock a few inches below the river’s skin.
“Draw left, draw left” instructs Matthew Smith, riding aft. A couple of corrective strokes, a slight grinding as its shell scrapes the rock, and there’s a sense of being free of not only the obstruction, but also the world and its cares.
Weatherwise, it is an ideal day to be on the Ashtabula River in a canoe. Unfortunately, a dry spell has left the stream running low, requiring frequent portages across the slippery rocks. We take each one in stride, savoring the spells of free transportation fueled by the incessant flow of water to its destiny 12 miles downstream.
“A bad day on the river is better than a good day at the office,” quips a canoeist as he wrestles his grounded craft back into the narrow channel.
Smith, the Northeast Ohio Scenic River assistant manager, organized our day on the river to raise awareness of an effort dear to his heart: designation of the Ashtabula as a “Scenic River,” a status already enjoyed by two other county waterways, Conneaut Creek and the Grand River.
A resident of Wooster, Smith has spent his weekdays in Ashtabula County the past year, doing the foot and paddle work involved in proving a river should be designated. As we glide through the water between the Plymouth Ridge Road bridge and Olin covered bridge, Smith explains that while serious pollution issues have existed on the lower river for decades, the upper stretches have remained relatively pristine. A Watershed Committee formed two year ago worked to bring the stream’s qualities to the attention of the ODNR, which resulted in the study.
This interest has been fueled by the remedial and navigational dredging of the lower river, which is to be completed this summer. Combined with a Scenic River designation, the Ashtabula, Native American for “River of Many Fish,” is positioned to reclaim its legacy character.
“We were greatly surprised at just how beautiful the river is,” says Smith, who has explored the stream’s farthest reaches.
The main river is 271⁄2 miles in length and has east and west branches. The East Branch begins its journey in a globally rare swamp, the Penn Line Fen, which straddles the Ohio/ Pennsylvania border. After a brief excursion into Pennsylvania, the branch wanders northwest through Richmond and Monroe townships for more than 10 miles before connecting with an east-west stream near the intersection of Adams and Scribner roads. That stream is born in the eastern reaches of Monroe Township.
The west branch trickles northwest from its birthplace near Richmond Center. After flowing under North Richmond Road, the branch heads north along Stanhope-Kelloggsville in search of an outlet. A mile or so after passing under the Root Road covered bridge, it joins Ashtabula Creek, just south of Kelloggsville.
The infant river heads west, flowing under the Benetka Road covered bridge, and then north, in a series of tight and broad loops. It almost loops back upon itself during a tight “S” loop or classic “ox bow” between the Olin covered bridge and the Interstate 90 overpass.

Canoe walk
Our exploration of the river via canoe began a short distance from here, at the Green Hill Road bridge in Plymouth Township. Smith, who has explored the river and its branches on foot and canoe, chose this section for its unique features and stunning beauty.
A few hundred yards into the trip, we encounter what will be the first of several portages around waterfalls. Between Green Hill and the Olin bridge, the river is like a staircase. The waterfalls are not dramatic cascades like those of the Genessee River but broad, sudden drops of several feet that add unexpected drama to the tranquil landscape.
Unfortunately, one of the most scenic of these drops is under the Plymouth Ridge Road bridge and is marred by the placement of a concrete pier in the falls.
As the canoeists gather for a break at these falls, they swap fish stories about the smallmouth bass caught in this area and at other bridges along the stream. Back on the river, Smith points out an oak tree tenaciously hanging onto the 60-foot cliff that rises sharply to Green Hill Road.
The river spreads out, follows the shale embankment and provides a spring sanctuary for the nascent plants. We attempt to shoot one of the rapids on this stretch and almost make it. As we glide past an old sycamore tree, Smith draws attention to a nest of sticks between an intersection of high branches. A red-tailed hawk soars nearby.
“We’ve seen bald eagles on these trips,” Smith says as his eyes scan the sky.
Smith watches the banks for trout lily, trillium, bluets and spring beauties. It is still early for most of these species, but the skunk cabbage is well along. The visual stench of man’s disrespect for this waterway blooms year-round, however: We pull the door from an appliance, a rusted tire rim, a piece of Styrofoam and other debris from the stream and haul it away in the canoe. The shale wall is blighted by a stream of plastic and metal refuse — out of sight, out of mind for the property owner — a gush of consumer vomit on the landscape.
Shortly after passing under the Olin Covered Bridge, we pull out to avoid the waterfall, probably the most dramatic on the entire river. Smith says that when the river is higher, to the first black mark on the abutment of the bridge, it offers an exciting ride: class 2 and 3 rapids, the only ones to be found on Ashtabula County’s rivers.
The next couple of miles, we spend more time walking the canoe than riding in it. By the time we reach the ford at Hadlock/ Stevens road, most members of this party have tired of the portages and decide to trade their wet feet for the comfort of an office.
We traveled only 3.9 miles in a little over three hours. The canoes gave us a new perspective, not as motorists crossing the river in the rush of making a living and taking rest, but rather as participants in the big scheme of things, leaves from the tree of humanity bobbing along on a river destined to an encounter with our industrial legacy.

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