Just a Placeholder

I do have another posts worth of photos, but forgot to watermark & crop over the weekend--so, not yet.

Suffice to say that while I wasn't able to see the restored canal boat while in Piqua, I did get to capture the canal as it rests now. I think you'll enjoy them.

Further more, after the rains and winds this weekend most of the leaves are down--meaning I can now go visit some sites I've been putting off.

The wedding is soon, but there's one more free weekend. We'll see what can happen...

Piqua Historical Area: Effectively Closed for Season

History. The art of remembering where you came from, so you can decide where best to go. Using the lessons learned not just by yourself, but by entire peoples, to avoid hideous missteps. Taking the facts of what happened, ferreting out the "why," and using it to color your perception of the future.

It's just cultural learning. Just like a child learns that touching the stove isn't such a great idea, America has learned that genocide, strip mining, slavery, clear cutting, and eliminating the middle class are bad things (well maybe not that last one yet...).

But what happens when a child forgets that lesson about the stove? They get burned again. When we throw away the notes for a class, we tend to bomb the test.

Eliminating funding for historical preservation, including sites designed to bring alive a piece of our collective story, is like throwing away the notes. It's all well and good if we've learned the lesson, or perhaps the lesson wasn't of too much value (let's be honest, not EVERY old building or farm needs to be preserved for posterity).

So when I see things like this...

It makes me sad. And curious. How much money can it take to actually keep this place open to the public? There were people at work--staff was still being paid or volunteered to be there when I stopped by on a warm September afternoon.

Anyone who's read "1984" is familiar with the Ministry of Truth...which essentially gets to define what's real, both now and in the past. When the people are not able to a handle on what happened--either through neglect, or designed--then we end up in a situation where the facts can change. This alters, or eliminates, the lessons learned.

That's a very long way of saying I'm disappointed that money is getting in the way of history, even in a dedicated historical preserve.

Some other photos I was able to get around the perimeter...

After this, I went and tracked down what I think is the old canal route--but that's another post for another time. Till then, keep looking around--you never know when it'll be more convenient to pave the past and put up a parking lot.

Glen Helen Nature Preserve

Yellow Springs is such a nice little town, a bustle of progressive-minded people in the middle of the Ohio farm land.  A huge part of that is Antioch University, which is still alive and kicking despite financial troubles in recent years.  If Antioch College had never started classes in 1853, it's pretty unlikely that Hugh Taylor Birch would have had cause to donate the 1000 acres of Glen Helen to the school in 1929.

Making life for this little guy a little harder, I would guess.

There's a 2 dollar fee for parking, and that lot is off Corry Street--across from Antioch. The big wood sign you see on the way to John Bryan SP is an access to the education center. No hiker parking at that location--for other guidelines on visiting (including trail maps!), check this out.

 It was a pretty warm day, but the humidity was high and the breeze non-existent down by the creek made things stifling. All the same, it all looked more than a little like paradise. It doesn't take a big leap of imagination to figure out why people stopped in the Yellow Springs area and never got around to moving on again.

I'm re-reading Stephen King's "IT," and just recently hit a minor part where Ben Hanscom shows the rest of the Losers Club how to cross the river by placing one rock at a time in the water. The funny part was I took this picture long before reaching that part of the book, and it was the first thing that came to mind. It's funny what things lodge in the reference index of one's mind.

For early August, the water was running pretty high--then I remembered we've been getting twice-a-week rain since May. Another summer I'd probably have found just a stone outcropping--"I was looking at a river bed / and the story it told about a river that flowed / made me sad to think it was dead." (From "A Horse with No Name," by America). Definitely nothing so sad here, but possibly just as poignant.

As it was, I was treated to a healthy rush of water slowly working its will on the landscape. Maybe not as impressive as the Colorado or Arkansas might be, boasting enough water to fling the weight of a raft laden with eight adults like they're made of cotton--but this is Ohio, and all things are relative.

It's pretty clear that rushing water is normal enough to do some serious work. This is a shot of the water below the falls--that is not a slight depression. I couldn't tell you how many years it's taken to create that pool, or how much of it is due to soil instead of rock being beneath the falls. But I can tell you it looks pretty magical when the sun tries piercing the depths.

Just another angle of the falls, capturing how far the rock juts over the pool beneath. It was also a chance to play with the "film speed" on the camera, and catch the water mid-fall.

The geology in Glen Helen is what makes the falls possible. These here rock wear down FAR more slowly than plain dirt, so while water washes away the dirt down stream, the rock formations are left behind. Gradually, the rock is higher than the dirt below--and you have a water fall. When you add the impact of the water falling you wind up with the deep pools beneath the falls.

Unless the water eventually finds ANOTHER rock formation under the dirt. Then the water has no choice but to spread out, and continue the work of erosion.

That's when you end up with something like this. I especially like how you can see where the layer of rock was at one point--look all the way to the right. As water wore away the dirt, there was nothing to support the rock. Between that and the constant wear and tear from the water led to pieces breaking off, pulling the edge of the falls back much further than either side.

Wildlife at Hoover Dam (Ohio)

My first post on Hoover Dam was focused mostly on the dam itself--how it got there, what it does, what it looks like. But as is the case anytime there's water, you'll wind up with wildlife.

Hoover Reservoir is well known for the fishing and birding, and my experience holds that up. Here are some of my favorite wildlife shots from that trip a couple months back.

This lil critter wasn't too sure about me. That's ok--I'd seen some of the mess he'd left below the nest and was pretty sure we didn't need to be friends.

Same story with this guy. He just struck me as being a bit dodgy, hanging out on the ledge below the dam overlook. Looking around all cock-eyed. Sketchy, sketchy pigeon.

This fellow on the other hand struck me as a dignified sort of chap, sitting in the spillway waiting on...something or other. For an Eagle Scout, I know precious little about the behaviors of most wild creatures. I'd like to say that's because I prefer to be constantly amazed by the natural world, but it probably boils down to something more mundane...like oversight or wanting to do archery instead.

That doesn't mean the natural world isn't amazing, however.

One of the most incredible things about Hoover Dam is how it doesn't really slow the birds down. I'm not saying there's been no environmental impact, but the adaptability of these creatures is impressive. Ducks, herons, the smaller songbirds that built the nests above--they've all figured out ways to take advantage of our incredible alteration of the natural order.

Considering we're the species that creates lakes pretty much whenever we feel like it, I respect adaptability in a big way. Though, I suppose there's no real reason to push that particular skill to the max, now is there?

John Bryan State Park: CCC Trash Furnace

I went camping at John Bryan State Park last weekend, hoping to take some pictures in the Yellow Springs area of a few things, the covered bridge in the Glen Helen preserve being once of them.  None of that worked out, but I did stumble across something else from the past completely by accident.

According to the sign taped to the desk at the camp office, there was an old trash furnace in the woods just a short hike away. It mentioned the CCC camp that used to be located in John Bryan, so I was intrigued.

I like John Bryan State Park a lot. It's not over-developed to be some sort of mini-resort. It's actually pretty primitive--most sites are non-electric, there aren't too many of them. No shower house. After my last few trips to state parks that are designed to capture the RV market with all the bells and whistles, it was a nice change.  Here's a brief history on John Bryan State Park.

The workmanship is what really struck me. This thing was built before any of my grandparents were born--and it looks like you could fire it up and start burning trash with it by lunch. The only clear sign of damage, aside from missing hatch covers where you feed the fire (bottom photo), was a crack on the edge of the platform surrounding the port where trash was dumped (middle photo).

Of course, the powers of erosion aren't so easily held back--the retaining wall on either side of the furnace was starting to show signs of wear--but think about that, it's still pretty well intact despite the damage.  When's the last time we had a public works project that didn't need to be at least partially redone within 5 years? And this has been sitting mostly untended in the forest for 70+ years, still functioning as designed.

I found an interesting story on the CCC and Ohio State Parks/Forests, and based on that I think the current state of the furnace would please those men who planted trees, built trails, and otherwise did the work to keep parts of Ohio wild--yet accessible to those who could appreciate it.

Not According to Plan

So on a tip from a work buddy, I started looking for an old iron furnace down in the Southeast corner of the state. I found it, but I didn't factor everything in very well.

First problem was the mud. There's a rather dry looking plain in from of the furnace (which is halfway up a small hill) which actually turns to about 6 inches of mud once you step into it.

The second issue I should have anticipated--bugs. Being out in the middle of a state forest, it stands to reason there'd be all manner of bugs. Mosquitoes, gnats, no-see-ums, horseflies, the whole works. Katie and I were the only large mammals nearby, so they weren't very inclined to leave us alone.

Heat. You'd like in July I'd realize that 4pm was probably the height of the midday heat. Well, I didn't. Sue me.

Then, the fact that the furnace is pretty well grown over from most angles, meaning a little bit of effort was going to be needed to get to where I could get good shots. However, I was not prepared to hiking and climbing. I'd only worn sandals--which were essentially useless once caked in mud. I was in shorts. I didn't have a hiking stick, or any good way to secure the camera (I meant climb--the hill to get above the furnace was pretty sheer and challenging).

I managed to get up above the furnace...but quickly realized that getting to where I needed to take pictures meant moving into the brush. Not my idea of a good time, in tick country, in shorts, with no shoes.

Getting down from that hill? Well. Let's just say I have some luck in those situations.

Long story short (too late), that post is going to have to wait a bit :-) The photos I did get will probably be up on Flickr soon.

Hoover Dam

I've always been fascinated by dams. Small, large, well known landmarks, or tucked away down a dirt access road they're all equally interesting to me. The very idea is simply bad-ass: "I'm going to stop the same force that cut the Grand Canyon." Rushing water is so difficult to contain (as any child with a stream nearby can tell you) seeing situations where its been done successfully gives me a rush of pride at being human.

Hoover Dam is just a hop, skip, and jump from where I lived several years back. I discovered it one morning after a mandatory store meeting, too keyed up to go home but still too early to really do anything. I wish I'd had a camera that day--the mist, the birds, the magic that was in the air would have been perfect for this post. However, you'll just have to settle for some pictures from this weekend.

The View South of the Dam

Hoover Dam, and Hoover Reservoir it created, were not named after Herbert Hoover. They were named for Charles and Clarence Hoover, two brothers who served the Columbus Division of Water. Clarence was a long time superintendent, and Charles the chief chemist who did a brief stint as superintendent after his brother died.

Hoover Memorial Reservoir, as seen from the bridge over Hoover Dam

The dam was built in the mid 1950's as an answer to water shortage problems in the Northside of Columbus. Existing reservoirs at the time were technically sufficient for the water needs of the city...but getting the water to homes and businesses during the summer months took more pumping power than the cities had. So the water works decided to create a reservoir upstream of the city by damming the Big Walnut Creek, and essentially letting the water flow downhill to the Hap Cremean water treatment plant on Morse Road (constructed at roughly the same time as one giant public works project).

Control tower for the intake system and gates

The project included new mains along Morse and Karl to feed this new expansion into the existing system. If you ride on Cherry Bottom Road in Gahanna and look West through the bushes, you can see where water from the Hoover Reservoir winds up--there's a point where the Big Walnut becomes a rather large concrete waterway. The lights and distinctive designs of a water treatment plant are easily seen just a stone's throw away.

One of the gates, viewed from the reservoir side

Different gate from above, but the down-river view. This one shows very well how the gates can hold back the water

Part of Sunbury Road had to be moved out of the way to create the reservoir, and evidently there were objections from Delaware County (where 2/3 of the reservoir actually lies) about having to maintain bridges in place of simple roads. But unlike Quabbin in Massachusetts (or many other examples I don't have a personal connection to) no towns were flooded out to create Hoover.

One of the intakes used to feed the Big Walnut

Where those intakes spit out

There's no electricity being generated at this Hoover Dam, and the intakes are only along the West side. That doesn't make things any less perilous to boaters or swimmers, however:

Nor does it make things less impressive for me. The construction is listed as largely compacted-earth, since there's more of it that looks like a big hill than concrete wall. That didn't stop me from finding plenty to photograph, however.

Yes, that is a hardy little plant hanging onto the side of the dam

One of the advantages to the Reservoir and having a treatment plant down river is boating, fishing, birding, and all manner of recreation has become a huge part of the Hoover Dam and Reservoir area. In addition to falling under the purview of the Division of Water, the Department of Recreation and Parks maintains jogging paths, disc golf, and marinas to add taxpayer value to the property.

It's a short drive to the Hoover Dam area: a quick run along I-270 till you find OH-161, then go East toward New Albany. Take the Sunbury Road exit, turn right and drive till you see the park signs. There's more than enough access and parking for one to enjoy an afternoon out and about.

Just one of the parking areas with access from Sunbury Road

Sources:

Genoa Township Website (especially This and That file)

Wikipedia Page on Hoover Dam

Columbus Division of Water Reservoir Map