Tag: river

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Naugatuck Eternal

Naugatuck Eternal (Naugatuck River, Thomaston, Connecticut)
“Naugatuck Eternal”
Naugatuck River, Thomaston, Connecticut
© 2017 J. G. Coleman

Coursing mightily after weeks of springtime rainfall, the Naugatuck River churns up wisps of whitewater as it snakes through mist-engulfed woodlands.

Over the course of a 39-mile journey from its headwaters in Northwestern Connecticut to its confluence with the Housatonic, the Naugatuck River descends more than 500 feet. Such fast-moving waters proved a boon for early industry, turning waterwheels and turbines that powered dozens of bustling factories during the 18th and 19th centuries. Of course, with that appropriation as a power source also came severe ecological decline.

Dams obstructed fish travel and decimated the fishery while factories channeled a foul stew of sewage and waste chemicals into the river on a daily basis right up until the 1960s. Mercifully, new regulations enacted in the 1970s ushered in a rejuvenating era for the Naugatuck characterized by dramatically improved water quality. Furthermore, five old dams have been removed entirely since 1999, reopening great lengths of the river to be traveled freely by rebounding fish populations.

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New Print Releases The American Northeast

Taft’s Crossing on the Ottauquechee

Taft's Crossing on the Ottauquechee (Taftsville Covered Bridge, Woodstock, Vermont)
“Taft’s Crossing on the Ottauquechee”
Taftsville Covered Bridge, Woodstock, Vermont
© 2016 J. G. Coleman

In my latest release, “Taft’s Crossing on the Ottauquechee” (above), the iconic, 180-year-old Taftsville Covered Bridge reaches nearly 200 feet across the Ottauquechee River in Central Vermont, its robust timber frame perched on massive abutments high above the rugged, rock-strewn gorge below.

Since 1807, the townspeople of Taftsville had been building bridges over the Ottaquechee River in this very spot, only to watch them get washed away by floodwaters again and again over the course of just a couple decades. The impressive Taftsville Bridge, completed in 1836, was intended to buck that exasperating trend once and for all. Today, it stands as one of the oldest covered bridges left in the United States. However, that reputation for endurance nearly came to an abrupt end in 2011 when Hurricane Irene charged through Vermont, bringing record rainfall on the heels of an already wet season.

Rivers all over the state brimmed and erupted from their banks. You’ll notice that the Taftsville Bridge is quite high above the river gorge, perhaps 30 feet or thereabouts. As the hurricane raged, though, the Ottaquechee rose so high that whitewater was crashing furiously against its siding! Remarkably, the bridge was spared and, after a few years of careful rehabilitation, reopened to traffic for its next 180 years of service.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

A Crossing in Wintry Repose

A Crossing in Wintry Repose (West Cornwall Covered Bridge, Cornwall, Connecticut)
“A Crossing in Wintry Repose”
West Cornwall Covered Bridge, Cornwall, Connecticut
© 2016 J. G. Coleman

A jacket of snow-dusted ice clings to shallow boulders along the banks of the Housatonic River in Connecticut’s Northwest Hills. Further upstream, against a backdrop of foggy woodlands and steep hills, a long covered bridge faithfully spans the frigid gorge.

At more than 170 feet in length, the West Cornwall Covered Bridge is arguably the most impressive bridge of its type left in Connecticut. Given the cost of maintenance and increasingly heavier loads it was forced to endure since the mid-1800s, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the bridge has survived to the present day.

There were low points along the way, of course. In 1945, a tanker truck broke through the bridge floor and crashed into the river below. A couple decades later in the late 60s, state officials contemplated tearing it down, but were met with vehement opposition from the surrounding community. Instead, it was reinforced with carefully-hidden steel underpinnings, ensuring the bridge would stick around for several more generations to come. The project was a marvelous success, even earning Connecticut an award from the Federal Highway Administration for exemplary historic preservation.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Luminous Collinsville

Luminous Collinsville (Dams beside the old Collins Ax Factory, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut)
“Luminous Collinsville”
Dams at the old Collins Axe Factory, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut
© 2016 J. G. Coleman

In “Luminous Collinsville” (photo at top), just one the pieces I recently released featuring the historic Collins Ax Factory, mist rises from the Farmington River as it courses through old mill dams in the post-industrial factory town of Collinsville, Connecticut. Stricken by days of brutally cold winter weather, waters behind the spillway are glazed over with ice and snow-capped bedrock punctuates the river below.

Factory Town, Autumn Hush (Old Collins Axe Factory on the Farmington River, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut)
“Factory Town, Autumn Hush”
Old Collins Axe Factory on the Farmington River, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut
© 2016 J. G. Coleman

When the Collins Ax Factory opened as a modest mill on the banks of the Farmington River in the 1820s, nobody could’ve predicted the remarkable success that lay ahead. Over the next century, as its fame grew and business soared, the company expanded its facilities at the site, brought in rail lines, built bridges over the river, constructed extensive dams for waterwheels and hydroelectric plants and served as the hub for a community that is still called “Collinsville” to this day. My piece, “Factory Town, Autumn Hush” (above), portrays the main factory building beside a large mill pond.

Gates of Collinsville (Dam regulators at the old Collins Axe Factory on the Farmington River, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut)
“Gates of Collinsville”
Dam gate hoists at the old Collins Axe Factory on the Farmington River, Collinsville, Canton, Connecticut
© 2016 J. G. Coleman

But even this industrial giant wasn’t immune to changing times. First came the advent of the chainsaw, which diminished the demand for axes. Market competition steadily increased right up until 1955 when a massive flood made matters worse by destroying the rail lines that serviced the sprawling complex. By the 1960s the factory was shuttered, ending a 140-year legacy of continuous operation that turned out millions of the finest axes and machetes that money could buy.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Pequabuck Cauldron

Pequabuck Cauldron, Autumn (Pequabuck Falls on the Pequabuck River, Plymouth, Connecticut)

In my new piece “Pequabuck Cauldron, Autumn”, serene autumn woodlands crowd the Pequabuck River as it leaps over a relict dam which blushes with the magical glow of dawn. Perpetually in a state of discord, the cool waters are forever parting ways for delicate, orderly veils or furious, crashing whitewater.

Although Pequabuck Falls emerged as a purely natural waterfall after the withdrawal of ancient glaciers from Connecticut, a crescent-shaped dam constructed in 1851 dramatically altered their appearance. What we find here today is a “composite waterfall”, one which incorporates rocky tumbles from the original waterfall with orderly cascades over 160-year-old masonry.

Old Photograph of Pequabuck Falls
Pequabuck Falls is seen here in an old photograph dating back to sometime between 1890 and 1930. Although the old pony-truss bridge has long since been replaced, the falls themselves have actually changed very little despite the passage of a century.
© Archives & Special Collections at the Thomas J. Dodd Research Center,
University of Connecticut Libraries

Marvelously varied industries have harnessed water from Pequabuck Falls since the dam was constructed in the mid-19th century. Initially operating a clock factory, the falls later drove machinery which manufactured buckles for the uniforms of Union soldiers during the Civil War. For decades after the conflict, the site continued to turn out everything from mail bags to lumber to tool handles as enterprises came and went. It wasn’t until 1913 that the trusty waterwheel at Pequabuck Falls was finally retired.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Farmington River Monochrome

Angry Farmington (Farmington River at Tariffville Gorge, Simsbury, Connecticut)
“Angry Farmington”
Farmington River at Tariffville Gorge, Simsbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

The Farmington River thunders through a dark gorge in Northern Connecticut, its swift waters boiling angrily over submerged boulders. Stark skeletons of leaf-bare trees reach skywards from the riverbank amidst dense veils of drifting fog.

This foreboding interpretation of the Farmington Valley hearkens back to early, uncertain days in the history of Simsbury. A loose confederation of Native American tribes, angered over the relentless advance of colonial settlements upon their ancestral territory, began launching attacks on the colonies of Massachusetts and Connecticut in 1675. With news that entire towns were being destroyed, the people of Simsbury felt it was best to retreat from their remote frontier village until the emerging conflict subsided. They escaped eastward to Windsor and stayed for two years, a wise decision in retrospect. Upon returning after the war, it was discovered that Native forces had burnt the empty village of Simsbury to the ground.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Demise at Indian Leap

Falls of Norwich (Yantic Falls, Yantic River Historic District, Norwich, Connecticut)
“Falls of Norwich”
Yantic Falls, Yantic River Historic District, Norwich, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

Swollen with autumn rainfall, the Yantic River slips beneath century-old bridges in the historic district of Norwich before careening furiously over a broad, 140-foot-wide shelf of jagged rock (see “Falls of Norwich” above). A peaceful stillness embraces the riverside foliage, which glistens delicately with raindrops in spite of the roaring spectacle nearby.

Known formally as Yantic Falls, this cataract has also been referred to as “Indian Leap” for centuries, a name which hearkens back to an ancient battle between rival Native American tribes of Southern New England.

The year was 1643. After losing a brief skirmish, Narragansett warriors of Rhode Island found themselves retreating through unfamiliar territory in Norwich with victorious Mohegan fighters in pursuit. One doomed band of Narragansetts emerged from the forest only to be met by the sheer cliffs at Yantic Falls. There was no escape, but rather than be captured by the Mohegans, the warriors cast themselves to their deaths in the river below.

Cliffs of Lament (Indian Leap Gorge and Yantic River, Norwich, Connecticut)
“Cliffs of Lament”
Indian Leap Gorge and Yantic River, Norwich, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

That stands as the most convincing and probable story behind the name “Indian Leap”. A more fantastic variation of the tale goes on to tell that the leading men of both tribes managed to jump the gorge and continue the chase on the other side. Since the narrowest parts of the ravine are nearly 40 feet across –an impossible leap even for modern Olympians– it’s likely that this addition to the story is pure fiction.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Schaghticoke Rising

Schaghticoke Rising (Housatonic River, Kent, Connecticut)
“Schaghticoke Rising”
Housatonic RiverKent, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

With the recent weather here in Southern New England mercifully cooling, it seems timely to remind everyone to enjoy what’s left of the summer. If there’s a lingering shred of superstition in your bones, you’ll take heed that the Farmer’s Alamanac calls for “copious amounts of snow” during the coming winter with the “coldest outbreak of the season” predicted for late January.

I produced the piece seen here along the wintry banks of the Housatonic during the final week of January earlier this year. The riverscape that morning lent a certain presence to nature’s penchant for paradox; awakening with splendor, yet still so very dormant… at once, both enchanting and foreboding. “Schaghticoke Rising” (above) was my effort at capturing that bewildering contradiction as it unfolded in the minutes before dawn.

For the curious minds out there, the title of this piece hearkens back to the earliest days of Kent when the remnants of declining native tribes across Connecticut took refuge from encroaching Europeans in the rough, wooded hills of the township. Calling themselves the Schaghticoke (usually pronounced Scat-uh-cook), this amalgam of native peoples became one of the largest indigenous nations in Southern New England. They were also granted one of the earliest reservations ever created in the New World, obtaining some 2,500 acres from the Connecticut Colony in 1736.

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New Print Releases The American Northeast

Deadwood at Goldmine Brook Falls

Deadwood at Goldmine (Goldmine Brook Falls, Chester, Massachusetts)
“Deadwood at Goldmine”
Goldmine Brook Falls at Chester-Blandford State Forest, Chester, Massachusetts
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

Bark peels from the trunk of a fallen birch wedged into the boulders of a gorge in Western Massachusetts. Just ahead, Goldmine Brook Falls descends 40 feet into the ravine amidst ancient, weathered rock faces softened by jackets of moss.

Drive through the quiet, wooded town of Chester, Massachusetts where I produced “Deadwood at Goldmine” (at top) and it might seem hard to believe that area was historically bustling with mines of all sorts. First came the early iron mines; later, in the mid-1800s, a somewhat rare, abrasive mineral known as emery became the object of commercial efforts. Yet the name “Goldmine Brook” is still a bit puzzling, since there doesn’t seem to be any record of sincere attempts at mining the precious metal at any point in Chester’s past.

While there is undoubtedly gold in the valleys of Western Massachusetts, it’s been scattered too broadly and too thinly upon the landscape by the prehistoric advance and retreat of glaciers. Suffice it to say, the amount of gold you might get after a day of panning a creek in Southern New England wouldn’t even cover the cost of driving home.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

Okumsett Fringe

Okumsett Fringe (Glen Falls near Okumsett Preserve, Portland, Connecticut)
“Okumsett Fringe”
Glen Falls near Okumsett Preserve, Portland, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

In my new release, “Okumsett Preserve”, Glen Falls glows with whitewater as it careens over a sheer, 20-foot ledge, plunging Cobalt Stream into a shallow, woodland oasis lined by mossy cliffs, gravel beds and swaying ferns.

As early as the mid-1600s, the lands surrounding the mile-long Cobalt Stream were firmly believed to be rich in various ores and precious metals. Connecticut’s first governor, John Winthrop, laid claim to some 800 acres in the area and legends tell of him camping out in the hills, assiduously mining gold and casting rings that he would carry back to his home in New London. The territory consequently received the nickname, “The Governor’s Ring”.

Generation after generation of enterprising men made countless attempts to mine the Governor’s Ring for about 200 years. Some sought gold and silver, while others set their sights toward cobalt and lead. Except for occasional veins of cobalt, most of these operations proved fruitless. By 1844, a Connecticut geology professor finally summed up two centuries of unproductive mining around Cobalt Stream: “it is a curious fact, that after all that has been done in this mine, very little is really known to the public as to the worth of the minerals located there, and whether it could be worked to any profit.”

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New Print Releases The American Northeast

Goreham’s Crossing at Pittsford

Goreham’s Crossing at Pittsford (Goreham Bridge over Otter Creek, Pittsford & Proctor, Vermont)
“Goreham’s Crossing at Pittsford”
Goreham Bridge over Otter Creek, Pittsford & Proctor, Vermont
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

As I stood upon a muddy riverbank during a warm spring morning in Vermont’s Rutland County, I watched reflections of the weathered Goreham Bridge ripple upon Otter Creek beneath a hazy sky streaked with broad, indistinct swaths of luminous blues. My piece, “Goreham’s Crossing at Pittsford”, emerged from that moment and brings together several elements which elaborate upon the sense of place wrapped up in this rustic riverscape in the Green Mountain State.

Built in 1842 and carrying traffic to this day, Goreham Bridge is one of four 19th-century covered bridges remaining in the rural town of Pittsford. That’s no small feat when you consider that the entire state of Connecticut has only three! But the town of Montgomery, about 100 miles north near the Canadian border, can justifiably be called Vermont’s “covered bridge capital”. Remarkably, seven covered bridges are scattered across the township’s 56 square miles.

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All Things Connecticut New Print Releases The American Northeast

The Old Days at Cotton Hollow

Cotton Hollow Echoes (Roaring Brook at Cotton Hollow Preserve, Glastonbury, Connecticut)
“Cotton Hollow Echoes”
Roaring Brook at Cotton Hollow Preserve, Glastonbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

“Cotton Hollow Echoes”, one of my new pieces released this week, brings us to the shady depths of Glastonbury’s Cotton Hollow, where spirited cascades along Roaring Brook serenade the haunting, overgrown edifice of a long-abandoned mill.

There was a time when this stretch of Roaring Brook was the epicenter of South Glastonbury’s industrial might. From the 1700s onward, the river was lined with mills and factories that dammed the river, harnessing its strength to animate machinery. Cotton Hollow saw the production of everything from gun powder to boat anchors to its eponymous cotton textiles.

The Brook Remembers (Roaring Brook at Cotton Hollow Preserve, Glastonbury, Connecticut)
“The Brook Remembers”
Roaring Brook at Cotton Hollow Preserve, Glastonbury, Connecticut
© 2015 J. G. Coleman

But times change; so does technology. Once modern electrical grids eliminated the need for industry to be tethered to rivers, the crowded mills along Roaring Brook were slowly silenced. Boulder dams were eventually toppled. Woodlands eagerly reclaimed the river. Today, a quiet nature preserve occupies the very riverbanks where throngs of mill workers once labored amidst a cacophony of frantic machinery.

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