When my old man took on his second wife, a homely lady from Greene, NY, they eventually settled a little north of Greene, but south of the town of Oxford, on the east side of route 12.
The dirt road behind my old man's wound it's way to the bottom of the Chenango Valley, and to some ruins of this canal, which I discovered upon visiting my Dad for the first time, three years after my parents divorce and our father son relationship had been estranged.
The ruins stand like a memory never forgotten, but the water flows on, renewed constantly by the hydrological cycle that refreshes as certain as age.
The Lord may have interfered in finding me a wife who grew up less than 50 miles away from that spot on the old Canal, a coincidence like so much of creation appears to those lacking in spirit.
Thanks for this writing of yours, Andy, keep on keepin on.
An amazing coincidence; what a story! How old were you then, a teenager? Lord knows I prowled the ruins of the Chenango Canal's northerly neighbor (the Black River Canal) as fourteen-year-old, pondering divorce. Seemed to be some kind of wordless metaphor there connecting my family situation with the dereliction of the old locks, though I couldn't quite articulate it then.
Some day soon I'd like to walk the whole length of all these canals. You might like to join me for a few miles if you get the chance. Nothing more refreshing than a simple canal walk -- and I reckon you could make quite an episode for your podcast about the culture and infrastructure of "proto-truckers" who drove 18 mules instead of 18 wheels.
There was a British lady, Harriet Martineau, who visited and travelled throughout the US for two years in the 1830's, and vividly described her journey on a NY canalboat.....wonderfully evocative essay, and love the photos and pictures.
Marvelous essay. I read it to my homeschooled teenage son ,who is a devotee of the Chenango Canal; we moved to its environs some 15 years ago, from the canal's ultimate terminus in New York City, and my son discovered it and has become particularly devoted to Lock 107, which he dreams of restoring.
This is the coolest thing, nothing makes me happier than hearing of young folks appreciating and admiring our State's canal history. I have another short article about canals in my archives he may also enjoy: https://shagbark.substack.com/p/life-on-the-abandoned-canal
Let him know that if he has any special requests, I'll try to fulfill them! Any spots he'd like me to visit or inspect or photograph or do a writeup on, I would. I'd be thrilled to nourish his admiration for the Chenango or any other canal!
I am going to hire a yacht charter in Los Angeles, go through the Panama Canal, up the Mississippi, through the Great Lakes to the Saint Lawrence, thence to the Hudson and finally to the Erie Canal and back again. - Marc with https://onboat.co/los-angeles-yacht-charter
Wonderful writing. You well capture the restless drive of America without missing the romance. I grew up near the Susquehanna and was fascinated by the relics of the canal age. I would follow the route with my eyes as we drove between Lewisburg and Harrisburg. Sometimes on top of the canal, sometimes beside it. Loved the faded grandeur of Liverpool and Duncannon.
Several years ago I stumbled onto the route of the Chenango on a drive between Watertown and Atlanta. The spirits of the past seemed strong.
Now I bicycle and hope to one day ride many of the towpaths as well as the rail trails, my own industry.
There is something about the works of men when they are rendered in stone.
Excellent writing. And I do love me some canals. They're similar to railways in a lot of ways, if perhaps a bit more baroque in mouthfeel. The most important similarity to me is that they're both forms of infrastructure which generally uplift the surrounding terrain. The railroad gets away with it because it has a minimal impact most of the time, and when it does impact the terrain it's in the form of magnificent viaducts and tunnels. Whereas the canal is simply a man-made river, and a river is always a beautiful thing.
Britain has mostly preserved her canal infrastructure with a system of trusts and volunteer groups. They're not working canals any more, but at least they still exist. A better writer than me could probably turn this little contrast into something more extensive on the difference between the American and British mind/spirit
London is a canal lovers dream and the Grand Union Canal its finest example. Years ago Sabrina and I used to live in Little Venice which is where it meets its sibling, The Regents Canal
When my old man took on his second wife, a homely lady from Greene, NY, they eventually settled a little north of Greene, but south of the town of Oxford, on the east side of route 12.
The dirt road behind my old man's wound it's way to the bottom of the Chenango Valley, and to some ruins of this canal, which I discovered upon visiting my Dad for the first time, three years after my parents divorce and our father son relationship had been estranged.
The ruins stand like a memory never forgotten, but the water flows on, renewed constantly by the hydrological cycle that refreshes as certain as age.
The Lord may have interfered in finding me a wife who grew up less than 50 miles away from that spot on the old Canal, a coincidence like so much of creation appears to those lacking in spirit.
Thanks for this writing of yours, Andy, keep on keepin on.
An amazing coincidence; what a story! How old were you then, a teenager? Lord knows I prowled the ruins of the Chenango Canal's northerly neighbor (the Black River Canal) as fourteen-year-old, pondering divorce. Seemed to be some kind of wordless metaphor there connecting my family situation with the dereliction of the old locks, though I couldn't quite articulate it then.
Some day soon I'd like to walk the whole length of all these canals. You might like to join me for a few miles if you get the chance. Nothing more refreshing than a simple canal walk -- and I reckon you could make quite an episode for your podcast about the culture and infrastructure of "proto-truckers" who drove 18 mules instead of 18 wheels.
My old man lived near Oxford from 91-2000.
I reconnected with him in 93, so I would have been 14 when I first laid eyes on the ruins of the old Chenango.
There was a British lady, Harriet Martineau, who visited and travelled throughout the US for two years in the 1830's, and vividly described her journey on a NY canalboat.....wonderfully evocative essay, and love the photos and pictures.
This read like a stream of poetry - fresh, clear and powerful.
Marvelous essay. I read it to my homeschooled teenage son ,who is a devotee of the Chenango Canal; we moved to its environs some 15 years ago, from the canal's ultimate terminus in New York City, and my son discovered it and has become particularly devoted to Lock 107, which he dreams of restoring.
This is the coolest thing, nothing makes me happier than hearing of young folks appreciating and admiring our State's canal history. I have another short article about canals in my archives he may also enjoy: https://shagbark.substack.com/p/life-on-the-abandoned-canal
Let him know that if he has any special requests, I'll try to fulfill them! Any spots he'd like me to visit or inspect or photograph or do a writeup on, I would. I'd be thrilled to nourish his admiration for the Chenango or any other canal!
Just ran this by my son and he said, "Just Lock 107." : )
I will go!
Cool! Let us know when. I'll send you my email.
Thanks, this is wonderful! As a kid who's out of step with his generation, he will take this to heart. You should come to Lock 107 and do a meetup!
I am going to hire a yacht charter in Los Angeles, go through the Panama Canal, up the Mississippi, through the Great Lakes to the Saint Lawrence, thence to the Hudson and finally to the Erie Canal and back again. - Marc with https://onboat.co/los-angeles-yacht-charter
This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve read by you so far. Thank you for sharing your words with us!
Thank you so much! Much more to come. God bless.
That last paragraph. Jefferson and Appleseed. Beginning again with joy, even while knowing the futility of our works in time. So good. We MUST build!
Wonderful writing. You well capture the restless drive of America without missing the romance. I grew up near the Susquehanna and was fascinated by the relics of the canal age. I would follow the route with my eyes as we drove between Lewisburg and Harrisburg. Sometimes on top of the canal, sometimes beside it. Loved the faded grandeur of Liverpool and Duncannon.
Several years ago I stumbled onto the route of the Chenango on a drive between Watertown and Atlanta. The spirits of the past seemed strong.
Now I bicycle and hope to one day ride many of the towpaths as well as the rail trails, my own industry.
There is something about the works of men when they are rendered in stone.
Excellent writing. And I do love me some canals. They're similar to railways in a lot of ways, if perhaps a bit more baroque in mouthfeel. The most important similarity to me is that they're both forms of infrastructure which generally uplift the surrounding terrain. The railroad gets away with it because it has a minimal impact most of the time, and when it does impact the terrain it's in the form of magnificent viaducts and tunnels. Whereas the canal is simply a man-made river, and a river is always a beautiful thing.
Britain has mostly preserved her canal infrastructure with a system of trusts and volunteer groups. They're not working canals any more, but at least they still exist. A better writer than me could probably turn this little contrast into something more extensive on the difference between the American and British mind/spirit
London is a canal lovers dream and the Grand Union Canal its finest example. Years ago Sabrina and I used to live in Little Venice which is where it meets its sibling, The Regents Canal
As a southern New Englander canals are foreign to me. Appreciate the education. Good stuff out there.
Great stuff! I love the education I get from your writing.
Ive seen the canals of england... once used for commerce ... now just leasure.