MOHAWK VALLEY 2020 – WANT SOME MORE?

There is way more to the Mohawk Valley than quaint little Cooperstown and its baseball fun and games. The lush countryside running northeast, from Oneonta in the south to Albany and Saratoga Springs in the north, is more amusing than a barrel of bunnies. And it’s easy as pie to get off the beaten track, spin off down a rabbit hole, or even buy a freshly-baked pie right by the side of the road. There is enough wild nature and history, sprinkled with roadside attractions and oddball curiosities, to keep you entertained for at least a week. So, here are a few suggestions that I am sure you will find interesting. The rest is up to you.

But first, I want to try and paint a picture of how difficult it is to pigeonhole the people of this rural part of upstate New York. It’s a strange mix indeed. And it might help if you knew a little bit about the people you will encounter along the way.

Most folks are farmers — dairy, corn, and hay, with some younger specialty farmers trying to change the agricultural face of the community, selling meats, vegetables, syrups, and cheeses. And there is a sizable Amish farming community living their 1890 dreams in the midst of their more modern neighbors.

The Mohawk Valley has always been a welcoming home to artists since the 1800s, and these days you can’t swing a cat without hitting a musician, painter, poet, writer, or sculptor. Most seem to be just getting by, either living off a monthly trust fund check, social security, or freelance jobs. They love to talk about pretty much anything under the sun and seem to be quite satisfied with their lot in life. I guess friendly is as friendly does. And they definitely like their bluegrass music.

And then there are the Richie Riches from the big city who spend their summers in the Mohawk Valley, escaping the oppressive heat and smell of the Big Apple. These folks are easy to spot and have a well honed sense of superiority. The locals just ignore that silly stuff and are happy to take their money. There’s a comfortable symbiosis between the clans, like a summer love affair between the wealthy debutante and the poor caddie at the country club. Everybody knows their proper place and likes the team they play for.

Put these three distinct groups into a sharp cultural blender, flip the switch, and you end up with a very unusual concoction.

Let’s use politics as an example.

In 2016, there were lots of Trump signs posted around the farms of the Mohawk Valley. In the summer of 2020, we traveled far and wide and only came across three, and one tricked-out old golden Chevy pickup, flying a Trump flag. That said, we only saw two Biden signs, and that was in Democratic-leaning Cooperstown. But the the big news on the front page of the AllOtsego daily newspaper was the installation of a camera on the Trump billboard outside the sleepy little crossroads village of Milford that had been repeatedly vandalized. None of this is scientific, of course. But I’ve seen the same downward slide and loss of enthusiasm for Trump in rural Maryland. Sure, he’ll still probably win Otsego County. But I bet you dollars to doughnuts it will be close as hell. And that spells big trouble for America’s greatest gangster President if he can’t significantly win over rural America.

Surprisingly enough, given the conservative rural farming nature of the area, we saw many Black Lives Matter signs and banners.

I guess you might say the people of the Mohawk Valley are often not what they appear to be.

And with that said, let’s move on to some fun things to do.

Head south down the valley on NY 166 and NY 28 to the roadside village of Portlandville where you can rent a canoe, kayak, or paddle board from the friendly folks at Canoe & Kayak Rentals. This time around, on a hot, and sunny day, Inna and I paddled about twelve miles on the cow pie-infused Susquehanna River. You can go downriver a short distance to Goodyear Lake that backs up languidly behind the Collier’s Dam. But paddling a small water craft on a windswept lake filled with motorboats zipping back and forth is rarely enjoyable, so we always paddle north toward Cooperstown. It’s about five miles to a small public boat launch that you won’t find on any map, past ticky-tack summer shacks and tidy dairy farms. I do this same paddle whenever I am in the area. The rental company is first rate and super helpful. And it’s just a great way to easily escape into the wild. But, and this is important, there is no place along the muddy shoreline to get out of the boat. At about mile seven, I was in terrible discomfort and couldn’t sit any longer (I have a titanium right hip), so we beached along a wooded bank and I stood in the ankle-deep mud, trying to ease the pain from my busted ass as Inna kept asking me to sing a song.
https://www.facebook.com/inna.young/videos/10222784253095354/

https://www.canoeandkayakrentals.com/

The odd little town of Cherry Valley is a definite must see. All sorts of artists and writers have taken up residence in the area since its establishment in 1791, including Jack Kerouac and Willa Cather. Andy Warhol Superstar Candy Darling, who was the muse for Lou Reed’s infamous song “Walk On The Wild Side” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjbs7quVuD8 is buried in the historic Cherry Valley Cemetery. There are lots of theories as to why, but nobody really knows for sure. The grave draws counter-culture pilgrims during the warmer months like moths to a flame. The village became an oasis for many of the Beat poets in the 1960s, including Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Gregory Corso, and William Burroughs who barely survived their first winter there in a communal farm house — still owned by the Ginsberg Estate — and were saved by some of the locals who took pity on the poor, drug-crazed interlopers. Cherry Valley epitomizes the phrase “eccentric rugged individualist”. The town’s biggest claim to fame is the Revolutionary War massacre of 1778, when British Loyalists and Iroquois Indians wiped out almost every man, woman, and child in Cherry Valley. Those that were spared were sold into Indian bondage. But the ending of the story usually gets lost in the shuffle. In 1779, the Colonial Army’s response to the massacre was terrible and swift. General George Washington commissioned the Sullivan Expedition which annihilated over 40 Iroquois villages in central and western New York and drove the women and children into refugee camps at Fort Niagara. And for all intents and purposes, this savage act of retribution removed the Indians from that part of New York forevermore. These days, the Indians operate casinos and almost all the businesses of Cherry Valley, such as they were, are now shuttered and have for sale signs in the windows. The pandemic was the final nail in the town’s commercial coffin.

Drive over the mountains on NY 20 (which runs east to west across the entire United States), stopping along the way at the cheesy roadside attraction known as The TePee, a concrete Indian Teepee offering gifts, snacks, souvenirs, and food — all of questionable origin. This unique landmark was erected in 1950, and the sign out front touts, in all seriousness, the fact that it is “Nationally Known”. We were enchanted by a fuzzy red bush, blooming at the edge of the parking lot, resembling a fiery puffball. We later learned that it was called a smokebush. The landscape painting view of the Green Mountains in Vermont to the north was also pretty spectacular.

Take a scenic drive to the tiny village of Van Hornesville which dates back to 1775. We hiked the wooded Waterfalls Trail that begins behind the Owen D. Young Central School, a sandstone public school that looks more like a fancy private school funded by local town hero Owen Young, who founded the communication powerhouse Radio Corporation of America, and whose ancestral home now functions as the village’s administrative offices. The trail follows the musical Otsquago Creek, a tributary of the Mohawk River. There are about a mile of cascading waterfalls, some with deep swimming holes, and the ridge line where the trail runs is lined with melting limestone caves and ledges. The only downside of the hike was the horrific smell from the nearby pig farm.

The Erie Canalway Bike Path is a 350-mile trail, running from Buffalo to Albany. Most of the Erie Canal Trail follows gravel paths along the route of the Erie Canal, although some sections use local roads. The trail will take you across almost the entire state of New York, including through the cities of Rochester, Syracuse, and Utica, plus many small towns and some beautiful New York countryside. I would recommend a 20-mile paved section that begins in a parking lot next to the trail near the phantom village of Auriesville and ends in Amsterdam, at which point you will turn around and ride back to your car. Highlights of the ride include: the Scholarie Creek bridges, Auriesville Pilgrimage Lunch Area along Mohawk River, Fort Johnson on the far side of the river, and newly-renovated riverfront area of Amsterdam. The old armory fortress, now called the Amsterdam Castle, looks like something straight out of merry old England. You can’t miss it. www.amsterdamcastle.com Then cruise back to the Erie Canal Trail and follow Bridge Street a short distance north to the lovely Mohawk Valley Gateway Overlook, a serpentine bridge over the Mohawk River lined with trippy sculpture and informative photo signs, telling about the town of Amsterdam in its heyday, when the Erie Canal delivered a vast multitude of goods and services to the Mohawk Valley and beyond. The only downside to this ride are the underlying tree roots that are pushing up across the tail, making for a sometimes bumpy ride.
https://bikeeriecanal.com/

Just up the steep hill from the bike trail parking lot in Auriesville is the Our Lady of Martyrs Shrine complex — Coliseum, Kateri Tekawitha Marker, the Seven Sorrows of Mary Garden, and the Martyrs Shrine. We started our exploration by sneaking into the circular red brick Coliseum, which is filled with stadium seating like in a huge theater, wrapping around an ornate, hodge podge, wooden altar down in the middle of the ground level. But the place wasn’t open and we were quickly asked to leave by a prune-faced older lady who kept steering us toward the Visitor Center. Back outside, we walked the expansive, tree-lined grounds strewn with weird monuments, memorials, and statuary in a heat exhaustion fog. The whole place has a cult-like feel and is affiliated in some vague way with the Catholic Church. The shrine is located on the site of the former Mohawk Indian Village Ossernenon, where America’s first canonized Martyrs, St Rene Goupil (1642), St Isaac Jogues (1646), and St. John Lalande (1646), gave their lives to bring the Gospel to the New World. Essentially they started beating their bibles around the Mohawks who were having none of that nonsense, so they were tortured and then executed. But the miracle part of the show — and when Catholics anoint their saints, there are always some miracle surprises — happened in 1656, when St. Ketari Tekakwitha, the Lily of the Mohawks, was born in this same village, thus bearing witness that “the blood of the Martyrs is the seed of the Church in North America”. So sayeth the Lord. Amen. You’re all Catholics now. It is also the site of the first recitation of the Rosary — while one of the priests was being butchered — in what is now New York state. The shrine has been a very popular pilgrimage destination since 1885. And you could travel far and wide before you’d find an odder Christian roadside attraction.

We wanted to also check out the equally bizarre Wong Tai Sin Temple next door — still not sure what that red pagoda place was all about — maybe Buddhist — but by that point we were ready to pass out from the heat. When we asked the lady at the Coliseum abut the strange red temple next door, she scowled with contempt and growled, “I have no idea what that place is about.” Clearly, the Catholics didn’t like the heathens taking up residence nearby, which is reason enough for me to come back and visit the Asian curiosity the next time I’m back in the area, because anything that makes Christians squirm is worth exploring, for sure.

Auriesville, with its two enormous religious complexes, is sort of like upstate New York’s religious amusement park along the Mohawk River. Very strange indeed. And it’s FREE!

On your way back to Copperstown you should check out the mineral springs and the historic spa hotels at Sharon Springs that were very popular with rich New England Jews back in the 1850’s. The sulfur-laced water made it world-renowned for its healing properties. The spa and baths complex on the north end of the village, with its faded Byzantine-arched doorway, has long been abandoned and looks like it was hit with a bomb. But some of the stately Gothic-style homes of the once-wealthy elite still remain, and the flag-draped American Hotel and the Roseboro Hotel are still desperately holding on and open for business. There were a handful of cars in their parking lots, but no humans in sight. The sleepy little town even has a tiny bowling alley, about the size of a long garage, in a blue cinder block building. Sharon Springs is a Stephen King-style village and exists today as a fading time capsule of lost glory.

The Mohawk Valley is sprinkled with dying industrial cities, clinging to the muddy Mohawk River and the Erie Canal which both played a key role in opening up America to Western expansion. Everything moved on the Erie Canal and without it, there would have been no New York City. And the switching yard towns like Amsterdam were, at the turn of the 1900s, the hubs of the ever-spinning wheels of American capitalism. It probably seemed to the inhabitants like they were the center of the universe. And I doubt they could ever imagine it would end. But it did. Slowly, but inexorably, the commercial hubs followed the Westward Ho businesses. And with the rise of Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, and St. Louis, the need to service the east coast became less important. At the same time, the railroads expanded their network and made waterway towns irrelevant, thus sounding the death knell for the once mighty canal towns. The truck and the interstate highway system delivered the final blow, leaving the Amsterdams of America with little but a few grand old historic structures and Glimmerglass memories.

Traveling these days is risky with a viral pandemic sweeping America and the world. Ideally, you want to travel by car and stop as little as possible. That means fill your gas tank before you leave and bring along water and snacks, so you don’t need to go inside any place as you drive to your destination — other than a bathroom stop, which is tricky. But if you use your imagination, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.