Cuyahoga cleans up its act Outdoor enthusiasts, wildlife return to Cleveland’s ‘Burning River,’ soon to be an official Ohio Water Trail
BURTON, Ohio — Gripping my coffee cup in one hand, I haul a kayak out of my friend Peg’s truck with the other. Paddles? Check. Sunscreen? Check. Credit card? Check.
We’ve taken the 40minute drive from Cleveland’s eastern suburbs to the headwaters of the Cuyahoga to spend the morning paddling downriver.
The Cuyahoga, you ask? The same river that caught fire thanks to an oil slick in 1969, a high-profile fail that helped perpetuate the city’s unfortunate nickname, “Mistake on the Lake?”
Indeed, the very same one.
Once the poster child for industrial waste — and a rallying cry for the nascent environmental movement — the Cuyahoga has cleaned up its act, becoming a symbol of the city’s rejuvenation and a popular draw for outdoor enthusiasts.
The river’s rep as a worthwhile place to paddle is only likely to get stronger. That’s because the Cuyahoga will soon become an Ohio Water Trail, joining a dozen other trails designated by the state’s department of natural resources. The trail status is set to become official at a ceremony slated for Oct. 4 in Cuyahoga Falls. New paddling brochures, maps and riverside signage are aimed at making the waterway a better, safer place to play.
“We’ve gone from telling people to stay away from the river to actively inviting them to come and recreate on the river,” said Pamela Barnes, a spokeswoman for Cuyahoga Valley National Park, where the river flows for 22 of its 100-mile-long course. “It’s a complete turnaround. It’s incredible.”
Having recently moved back to the Cleveland area after 20 years in Manhattan, it seemed appropriate to christen my return with a trip along the newly clean Cuyahoga — on the semicentennial of its famous fire, no less.
Named for the Mohawk tribe’s word for “crooked river,” the Cuyahoga starts in northeastern Ohio’s Geauga County, near Burton. It takes an odd, Ushaped course, flowing south through Cuyahoga Falls and Akron, where it veers abruptly north toward the national park. From there, it journeys through a handful of towns before cutting through downtown Cleveland and emptying into Lake Erie.
The Cuyahoga River Water Trail is divided into different segments, with some being more difficult to paddle than others. The circuitous section that runs through the national park, for example, can be tricky for beginners to navigate, Barnes said.
My friends and I opted to tackle part of the easternmost segment, dubbed by water trail organizers as the “scenic” route. We drove to Eldon Russell Park near Burton to put our vessels in the water. (A good place for paddlers wanting to spend the night is the 17-room Red Maple Inn in Burton, a 10-minute drive from the park. Rooms start at $159 a night on weekends and include an Amish breakfast.)
“It’s the most pristine section of the river,” said Barnes, noting that this route on the Upper Cuyahoga, which comprises the first 25 miles of the river, was designated a state scenic river in 1974. “It’s extremely popular with paddlers due to its constant flow and gentle current.”
And so, summoned by a morning chorus of birds, Peg, Mark, Mike and I crawl into our kayaks and set off downstream. Our goal is to kayak a few miles and glide into The World Famous Iron Horse Saloon for lunch, before heading back upstream to our putin point.
The segment of the river down which we paddle is relatively narrow, flanked by unspoiled wilderness. The topography includes sandy knolls formed by melting Ice Age glaciers known as kames. These knolls support forests of beech, maple and oak, as well as a gorgeous strain of native white pine. The recesses left by the melting ice, called kettles, are home to rare wetland plants and more trees — elm, ash, silver maple, white oak. In autumn, the trees collectively create a kaleidoscope of color with blazing reds, vibrant oranges and sunny yellows.
“Heron, 3 o’clock!” shouts Mike, his voice piercing the still morning air. Off to our right, a great blue heron perches proudly on a log at the river’s edge, as if he’s guarding the river like a sentry. After the cleanup of the Cuyahoga and surrounding habitat, these majestic creatures have come back to nest in this once-polluted area. Since the 1970s, blue herons and bald eagles have slowly reappeared along the river, their numbers now believed to be in the hundreds.
“Returning wildlife is a big part of the river’s turnaround,” Barnes said. “The blue heron, bald eagle, river otter — you wouldn’t see any of them if there weren’t fish for them to eat in the river.”
After about two hours of paddling, we reach our lunch spot. The Iron Horse is a casual restaurant serving burgers, wings, walleye and a good selection of craft beers, with a porch that’s especially welcome for river-going patrons. (It’s also home to Crooked River Adventures, one of two canoe and kayak rental outfits on the Upper Cuyahoga. Camp Hi Canoe & Kayak is the other.) My walleye sandwich is fresh and tasty. We’re back in our kayaks within an hour.
As we make our return toward Eldon Russell Park, more kayakers join the fray. We spot a couple canoeing with their Australian cattle dog, a group of guys fishing from their kayaks, and a clique of bikini-clad teenage girls texting as they paddle.
I ask Peg how many miles we’ve traveled. “Not sure,” she says. “Maybe 8 or 9.” Her guess was as good as mine. One of the benefits of the Ohio Water Trail designation is that the trail maps will include river miles, says Andrea Irland, an outdoor recreation planner at the National Park Service.
“The water trail designation will make for a safer experience on the river overall,” Irland said. She noted that maps available online and at the national park visitors center, among other places, will identify the 24 public put-in spots along the river and help boaters pinpoint where they are in case of emergency.
“We had 26 rescues in Kent this summer,” Irland said. “There’s swift water down there and some strainers (like tree roots that let water through but obstruct boats). This map will help people ID where boaters are if they need to call for help.”
For today, though, the only call on the river is that of a belted kingfisher flying overhead, its wild rattling cry unmistakable to anyone who’s heard it.
Heading upstream, we catch a glimpse of our feathered friend hovering over the water with its rapidly beating wings, plunging headfirst into the current to grab a fish, then raising its head in triumph.