“TRAVEL IN LOCAL SPACES”
“Chittenango Falls State Park”

by Jessica Kuzmier

     I like waterfalls. I don't see them all too often, unless you count the creek near my backyard going over a one foot indentation a waterfall (hey, that makes for good rapids in the early spring after a snow melt). There are a lot of natural features near where I live: rolling hills, open pasture, woods that seem to go on for so long you think that deforestation is a myth. But the one thing that I don't have is waterfalls. That means I have to travel to see any.

     Fortunately, upstate New York is such that many waterfalls abide in it. There is, of course, the renowned Niagara Falls, and there are other wonders such as the Ausable Chasm. But I was looking for something more in the center of the state. No problem, New York has plenty of cascades to pick from in its middle section. So now, choose one and go for it.



     I'd been to Kaaterskill Falls a year earlier, which is one of the major waterfalls in the central New York area. There are some parks also in the Ithaca area that contain waterfalls with names like Buttermilk and Lucifer, which sounded quaint but didn't quite suit my mood. Cazenovia is home to Cazenovia College, and also Chittenango State Park, which contains the appropriately named, Chittenango Falls. I got conflicting reports from reading my atlases and guides about Chittenango Falls. The guide claims the falls are 167 feet high, where my DeLorme atlas boasts of a 134 foot cascade over Onandaga limestone. One can get very confused reading up on these things. But whether it was 134 or 167 feet, I figured it was fairly significant.

     In fact, one time I had driven past the falls unexpectedly after driving up north and decided to take the eventful road home instead of the interstate. It was on a state highway that seemed to have been cut into a forest. Being a passenger at the time, I was looking at all the greenery whizzing by, when suddenly I saw a waterfall. Certainly, being a change of scenery, I took notice. I found out later that it was Chittenango. My spouse and I made plans to see the waterfall up close, but always found something else to do.



     So, we finally decided on seeing the waterfall before Memorial Day 2004. Except that it wasn't as easy to go as we thought. Mother Nature seemed to be handing a strong hand of discipline by not allowing us to go with her unpredictable weather moods. Seeing that the waterfall was a couple of hours away, we wanted to have as good as weather as possible. It wouldn't do much good to drive to this place and get stuck in a hailstorm and have to drive over a hundred miles back in it. Of course, in the springtime you couldn't really count on the weather to cooperate.

     Which it didn't, at least, right away. The first day we planned on going, the whole valley as far as we could see was fog. On the Weather Channel, our region was depicted with a stubborn yellow patch symbolizing fog that went from our home, past the waterfall, practically into Canada. The fog wasn't going anywhere fast, and neither were we. The next time, it rained until noon. The sun came out just in time to make fun of us: hah hah, you can't go. So great. The next time, it was fog until ten o'clock and then it was a great day. Just late enough that we didn't want to go. So hah hah again.



     Finally, the fourth time we headed to the waterfall, just after the fog lifted and before any storm clouds could come and threaten us. A quick picnic lunch was gathered, the dog was scooted in the vehicle, as well CD, GPS, and DVD. Now that we were all alphabetized and organized, we could leave. We had the directions from the few times we had planned this outing, so we didn't even have to figure that out at this point. At last, we were going to go.

     Since Chittenango Park was on a state highway, the drive up was fairly direct. There were no unmarked roads called Local Road on the GPS that we had to find hidden behind a row of pine trees. Along the way, we passed by Colgate University in Hamilton, SUNY Masonville, and Cazenovia College. Colleges and universities comprise a lot of the industry in upstate New York. I'd have to say that none of the towns really could be classified as college towns. A couple of pizzerias, delis, and gas stations comprised these hamlets. There were probably a few bars that I missed in my observations. Colgate University looked like a monastery. I don't know the history of it; maybe it was some kind of seminary in a different era. Of the three towns, Hamilton looked like the largest. Masonville only seemed to exist because it was on the federal highway, US 20. US 20 is the North's version of Route 66, stretching from Boston to the Pacific Ocean by Corvallis, Oregon.



     As it turned out, both the atlas and the guide were right about the height. Chittenango Falls actually consists of two falls: one is 134 feet, which is the top fall, and a smaller fall that leads to the creek. All waterfalls are part of a larger body of water, at least all the ones I have ever heard of, but I'm no earth scientist, just a hiker. The water body that Chittenango Falls is part of is appropriately named Chittenango Creek. When you drive to the falls on NY 13, the creek meanders on the side of the road, alternating between your left side and right side, depending on the bend in the road.

     When we got to the park, it was definitely looking good for a nice private hike. We were there in late May, after the colleges let out and before the Memorial Day rush. The day had gotten hotter, and the sun was at full noontime strength. It would have been a great day for wading in the falls, but the signs explicitly forbade that luxury, even though there were no fences preventing you from walking into the rapids at the top of the falls.



     If you wanted a sedentary day out with the family, you could still enjoy the full beauty of the falls. There was a park-like stretch of grass and trees that paralleled the falls. From there, you could catch a glimpse of the rapids rushing over the gorge to where it pooled before going over the second hurdle. Walking away from the drop, against the flow of the current, there was a sidewalk that led to a bridge. The bridge was designed for you to get to the other side of the creek. Or you could stand at the underpass where the sidewalk ended, and watch the creek that way. So you could get your nature and remain comatose at the same time if you so desired.

     But you could also get a good strenuous hike from your Chittenango experience, which is what my spouse, dog and I opted for. Our waterfall guide rated its listings on hiking difficulty, using a "boot system": one boot for gentle paths, to four boots for toughest ones. Chittenango was rated at four boots. Certainly not for the trip I previously described: Chittenango earned its difficulty rating when you decided to go down to the foot of both falls, which is what our entourage decided to do.



     The path began with a sign warning: "Caution: Watch for loose and falling stone. Steep grade. Slippery when wet. No food or beverage in gorge." It was innocuous enough at the trailhead, consisting of a dirt path that began a downward descent. But where the navigation got tricky was when rocky, uneven steps appeared, with a fairly steep drop on the edge of some of them. It probably wouldn't have been a great idea to run a marathon on these steps, at least not on the first try. I was glad to be there during a fairly dry season, because it made the steps less slippery. After you maneuvered one set of rocky stairs, after a short way on a winding dirt path, more rocky steps appeared, and it went on like this until it reached the bottom of the falls; proving that Chittenango was worthy of being rated at four trail boot difficulty. I was glad that we were the only people we had to deal with on the stairs. Getting out of the way for those who were faster or coming the other way would have without question made something that was fairly difficult into an annoying task requiring patience and making sure you didn't fall over a cliff in the name of etiquette.

     It probably took us about a half hour to get to the bottom. When we did, we saw only one person, a woman with her large dog, which got the attention of our loyal pooch. Fortunately, the canines were able to greet each other from afar, and the woman and her dog headed up the other way, leaving us with an exclusive full view of the falls.

     Watching the falls was like meditation in motion. The rhythmic pulse of the water, on and on, movement without stopping, made you feel like you feel like this was the way life was, and anything else that you thought was real was just a figment of your imagination. The noise of the falls was its own silence, because it muted all other sounds, except for the occasional bird that crossed your path. Mostly what you heard was the singing of the rapids as the water cascaded from high above and crashed to the rocks not far from where you stood; entertainment at its best. Its ability to overpower the senses was a reminder that the falls had been there long before I as a human had been there, and unless I came with some bulldozer, would be there long after I left, indifferent to my comings and goings, singing the same song on its gorges.



     We headed up a walkway on the opposite side of the bridge. With my dog on a leash wanting to pull me fifty miles in any given direction to smell the scenery, I was glad that the way up had a lot of boulders on each side to balance me. I could lean forward anytime things got a little on the steep side. The walkway was similar in structure and terrain to the path down, except now we were going up. You could stay on the main path, or take the smaller paths that wound around to private seats and views. On one of these capillaries, here was something that looked like a concrete ladder with water running over it. I had no idea what it was supposed to be, but I assumed that it was some kind of dam. For what, I wasn't sure.

     It took us about an hour to get to the top. I was glad that the path was as tree-covered as it had been, because the sun was at its peak both in brightness and heat. Some more people had arrived; we went for a short hike at the top of falls, which led to a grassy area that looked like a dried up swamp. The trail didn't really lead to anywhere in particular, though you could stop at various parts of the creek's banks. After exploring that area and seeing some of the wildflowers in the area, we came back and had a quick lunch in the parking lot; none of the picnic areas by our van was in the shade anymore.

     After that, we packed up and began the long trip home. A nice long drive was a good thing for the re-entry phase. There was no inclement weather on the way back. Finally, we had gotten to the falls, and no major storms had gotten in the way. To me, it had certainly been worth the wait.