The Ledges
“Midway along the eastern boundary of Allegany County, New York, where some of the westernmost tributaries of the Susquehanna River start their journey to the sea, lies the Town of Almond. .” so begins the
descriptive narrative of our beloved hometown.
It continues, describing the area as “rugged country” with “high hills reaching toward the sky and the deep valleys lying at their feet. . Through these valleys flow as many streams, alternately peaceful and
submissive, angry and violent. The northward-flowing Canacadea Creek tumbles down through Whitney Valley on its way to join the Canisteo at Hornell. McHenry Valley and Karr Valley, with streams by the same names, extend northeasterly and easterly across the southern and central portions of the town
with their waters forming a junction at a scenic spot known as the ‘Ledges’’ and then flowing as a single stream another half mile to join the Canacadea at Almond Village.”
One might think these words are from a travel brochure, touting the area’s magnificent countryside. Not so! They are from the pen of the late John Reynolds, found in the introduction to his book, ““The
Almond Story,” and they are a perfect description of the beautiful area we call home.
The “scenic spot known as the ‘Ledges’’'was the site of our recent annual “fall picnic”, and as we sat on the rocks and enjoyed the simple beauty of God’s creation, memories of childhood days spent there began
to come forth from my husband, Lee A. Ryan. “I lived in the brown shingled house next to the pea vinery in the 40’’s, and we loved to come up to the Ledges to play. My dad always had a big garden, and we had to get our weeding finished first – but then we could go! We would ride our bike up to the
Ledges where there were lots of fun things to do: We could go swimming, lift up rocks to try and grab the crayfish, skip rocks, and fish for suckers and horndays with our bamboo poles and safety-pin hooks, and play cowboys and indians in the sycamore trees. Of course, we had to keep working on
damming up the creek to keep the swimming hole deep.”
His enthusiasm prompted mentioning of the topic to various other folks, and elicited myriad stories and memories. Craig Braack, an Almond native son who now serves as Allegany County Historian, writes: “The
Ledges was practically my second home. Rob Torrey and I trapped up there many years when kids and there's no doubt in my mind I could find the places where we made our ‘cubby sets’ for 'coons. Many a fall/early winter morning I was late for the first bus due to running our trap-line. Mom was not
happy about this outdoor stuff at all and the late school days were most trying for her. I can still hear the icy silence. One can only imagine Audrey's feelings at the same time.
Upon occasion, Rick Rawleigh and I would trap together which leads me to one particular Sunday morning. Of all days, we caught a skunk in one of our leg-hold traps and he was none too happy about his
predicament. Nor were a few of the nearby people when I eventually showed up at Church. As I recall, Mom banished me to the balcony that morning.
Many years ago I recall Charlie Sharrett talking about the great fire back in probably the '20s or '30s that burned off most of the Ledges as we knew them then. No doubt he was right as I recall seeing many,
many big, burned out stumps,” he shared.
The Ledges were great picnic grounds, frequented by folks for generations. Bernice Burdett remembered her sister-in-law taking a camper to the site in the 20s, enabling her family to lazy days there. Others
talked about picnic tables, now long gone, near the flat “shale rocks.” Sharon Mason Barron, upon the mention of the Ledges, immediately remembered going there with picnic lunches and being amazed at Roger Washburn’s favorite sandwich: peanut butter and ketchup!!
A tradition started by AACS fifth grade teacher Mrs. Doris Paine was enjoyed by many: Sally Smith Doty shared this: “I never went to the Ledges, but I do remember going to Doris Paine's house for a picnic and
swimming in the water hole at the end of the Ledges.
““At the end of the school year Doris always took her fifth grade class to her house for a picnic and swimming. This year (2002) we were invited to the Gillette's reunion at Dave and Marshelle Gillette's house
and everyone walked the Ledges up to route 86. Everyone who grew up in Almond remembered going to the Ledges when they were kids, good time had by all,” she related.
“The Ledges was just a great place to go,” Dale Lorow recalled. “There were always 15 or 20 there having fun. No matter what you did during the day: play baseball, basketball, or football, you always ended up
at the Ledges. It was fun just walking . . . looking at the rocks and the formations they were in,” he writes from his home in Florida.
A generation later, his son, Doug, was among those still enjoying the place in the 70s. “I have many fond memories as a kid heading up to the Ledges to swim. I remember going there and watching the ‘older
kids’ getting a running start from up above the swimming area, wearing old sneakers and running as far as possible over rocks, jumping out as far as possible and doing a cannonball. Couldn’t wait till I was old enough to do that!” he remembered. “Many a summer spent at a most enjoyable place. Also
damming up the area with rocks, as I‘m sure many before me had done. Later on in life taking hikes up through the Ledges – a most beautiful area.”
Even later, his niece, Kelly Taft Krause and her friends “would spend hours there swimming and ‘laying out’ on the rocks. I remember it fondly,” she writes.
Some mothers relate that they worried, concerned that it might be a dangerous place – and they may have been right! “I recall the waterfall behind Weitzels where the water snakes would stick their heads out
and enjoy the flow. I teetered on a flat rock one day and suddenly a huge snake came out and bit me right on the big toe and disappeared back underneath just as suddenly,” Dick Baker recounted.
He also remembered a very sad day at the same location: “A family named Yost owned the Weitzel house in the 30s and one of their children drowned in the creek where the swimming hole was. I still remember the
mother’s screams and cars tearing up McHenry valley road past our house at the time.”
Mike Coleman, now a resident of New Jersey, was in town in July for the annual AACS alumni banquet. As spokesman for the class of 1977, his memories of growing up in Almond were very entertaining. He writes in
an e-mail: ““I also have fond memories of the Ledges. It was the best easily accessible swimming hole we had along the miles of creeks (cricks) we haunted as children. We used to ride our bikes up there on hot days and cool off in the waters and look for crawdads, frogs and minnows.
If you travel a bit further upstream, there was an indentation in the rock wall quite high up. We found a large and long rope and tied it to a tree at the top of the hill just above the opening. We threw the
rope down over the opening and it reached to the ground. We would climb up (by we, I am thinking Mike Barney, Steve Reitnauer, Brian Granger and myself) the rope and into our ‘cave’. It was there, that someone from below (name purposely omitted) threw a rock up and it hit me in the mouth, breaking
two front teeth.
Then if you travel even further up the stream, just around the bend a bit, there was a very nice spot. The shore widened considerably on the left side and made what was our version of a beach. Behind that was a nice pine area. We used to camp out up there as teens. It was just a
great spot. The Ledges area is really a great little place. Very scenic and you can get a nice feeling of seclusion,” he shared.
Several mentioned their “favorite” places, and described vivid memories at each point. The “highbanks,” a rock cliff approximately 100 feet high was located directly across from this “beach”. Lyle Barron
relates the story of his brother, Dale, running from their Karr Valley home through the field with their dog, “Skippy,” who inadvertently came to the edge of the highbanks while still running full tilt! “Poor Skippy couldn’t stop, and he tumbled over and over down that bank! He limped the rest of
the summer – but he got over it,” Lyle laughed.
Lee still vividly remembers the skeleton of a deer, lying at the base of the cliff in the creek – a casualty of the highbanks.
Many others mentioned the “hogsback,” with Dick Baker giving this description: “My understanding of the ‘‘hogsback’’ is that whole ‘mountain’ between the Karr Valley Creek and the Turnpike Road. Coming from
West Almond, if you look down from the expressway to the right across from Wightman’s gravel pit, you can see where the “hogsback’ extends down to the creekbed. There used to be a footpath all the way to the top, very close to the edge of the cliff. I know at least one person was reported to have
fallen there. Fatal or not, I do not know,” he divulged.
The Ledges also provided a place where unusual “treasures” were found, it was revealed. Phil MacMichael shared this: “I can add a little about the Ledges when I was very young. Probably in the early 1930s but
not sure what exact year. There was a place so shaded from the sun all year that ice would usually remain till mid summer before melting completely. My uncle ‘Nellie’ and dad would take us up to get enough ice to take home and freeze some homemade ice cream in the old hand cranked freezer. It took
quite a lot and of course some salt to melt it and make it freeze the creamy mixture mom made, and a lot of cranking. I believe it was in June. I know it was a summer month because we did the work out in the yard where the water could just run out of the freezer as we worked. They wouldn't waste the
good ice we had to buy for our ice-box because it cost so much. That was GOOD ice cream especially when mom let us lick the ladle too. Vanilla, I'm sure. Probably the only ice cream we had in those days, compared to later when a nickel would buy you a big two scooper.”
Another “treasure", according to Dick and Bob Baker’s grandmother, the late Lizzie Greene, was a gas well located at the foot of the “hogsback” with gas piped to the village at one time. She related that it
was abandoned, but when she was a teenager in the 1890s, it could be lighted by dropping a lit match in it.
Others, spending most of the summer there, recall anticipating certain times when juicy berries could be found: “Your e-mail did bring back memories for me as well. As a kid I used to walk up the creek into
the Ledges and go follow the creek all the way to Karr Valley road. I remember when my dad and a couple of us would go to the Ledges and pick berries in the fields. We did a lot of swimming up there as well. Had stone fights around the layers of rock--pretty stupid looking back. It's likely to be
more peaceful now that were gone. Thanks for the memories . .”
Of course, humorous stories of “Ledges escapades” abound, and it would take volumes to contain them. The great story-teller, Dale Lorow, writes this: “I remember Ron Coleman, Bob Decker, Don Biehl, and myself
worked at the pea vinery and at the end of pea season everything had to be cleaned. Mr. Torrey told us to clean the screens so we took them over to the Ledges, put them under the waterfalls, and went hunting. After a couple of hours of hunting we remembered the screens. We ran back, ran a brush over
them, and took them back. Mr. Torrey said, ‘That’s the cleanest they have ever been!’ We thought, “Thanks to the Ledges!”
Craig’s “best memory” of the Ledges happened in the early 50s, when as a boy of about 8 or 10, he convinced his Dad that they should economize by cutting their own Christmas tree. “No doubt, Dad asked
permission before we started out. At this time Dad was probably about 50 or so with very bad legs and back, which I just couldn’t understand. My Uncle Charlie Rudolph got wind of our little venture and wanted to go. Bear in mind Uncle Charlie was at least 70 and had never met a chair he hadn’t
liked. Sunday finally came, lunch was finished and we gathered the tools of our trade, which of course Dad had to carry: saws, axes, etc to fend off the anticipated wild creatures in addition to the job at hand. In the beautiful Ledges in pursuit of our ‘holy grail’ with the security of two adults
on a beautiful but cold winter was as idyllic a scene and experience ever painted by Norman Rockwell.
Several hours passed and I was still having a grand time trudging up one hill and down the next. No doubt Uncle Charlie was threatening to sacrifice me and Dad probably wouldn’t have objected. One can only
imagine the thoughts running through Mom’s mind back home with no idea of where we were. Problem was we simply couldn’t find the right tree. Dad said something about it getting dark and they were cold. He let me select a tree that could only be described as the finest ‘Charlie Brown Christmas tree’
ever seen by the eyes of man. Now the tree I selected was on top of the hill roughly behind Lions Park today. Several hundred yards away was a tractor trail down the hill at a much less steep angle than the hill right in front of us. In retrospect, we should have gone the extra distance and taken
the trail.. However, Dad and Uncle Charlie were relieved we finally had our tree and I was delighted with it. Dad mentioned something about hot chocolate back home and I went straight down that hill like a shot.
With tree securely in hand, about halfway down the hill I looked back up as I sensed I was alone and it was getting real dark. Just starting their descent. Dad and Uncle Charlie were gingerly picking their
steps on this snow-covered 45-degree death trap. I can only assume Uncle Charlie ‘found’ a flat but icy rock, as the only thing I heard was this death-defying ‘‘ahhhhh’’ as he slid by at an ever increasing rate. All I saw was the boots in the air so not wanting to damage my precious tree in trying
to stop him, I simply stepped aside. Dad and I eventually joined him at the bottom for a slow walk home. I remember dad saying, ‘Good thing you don’t understand German.’”
Dick Baker tells about a “little green building next to the creek behind where Keith Weitzel’s trailer is that was exactly like the one down at the bridge by the former Red Barn. Flood control project, I
guess, and Els Sick had the job of taking readings there periodically. There was a cable car across the creek there. I suppose they went halfway across and dropped a line down to test the flow or volume. Must have had something to do with the Corps of Engineers before the Almond Dam was built,” he
explained. Dale remembers the cable car this way: “The first ones to the Ledges with a girlfriend used to ride back and forth on the car – I don’t know why that was fun, but we did it all the time! ”
Although enjoyed for generations by local folks, most probably don’t even realize that the Ledges is private property, generously shared by the landowners over the years. Hugh Wightman, whose family purchased
Sand Hill Farms in the 40s, is the current owner of all the Ledges property way down to the junction of the McHenry and Karr Valley creeks just off the McHenry Valley Road. “Originally the area was nine farms, which were consolidated into the S.S. Karr farm,” he explained. The construction of I-86
in 1972 cut the farm into two parts, and made the Ledges area accessible to them only through the sluice pipes under the road or via a rather inconvenient right-of-way from the McHenry Valley Road. “We felt that the reason I-86 went through there was so that people could see the Ledges from the
highway. Plans were made for the highway during the LBJ administration, and that was during Lady Bird’s program of highway beautification,” Hugh explained. ““We didn’t even know anything about the road coming through there until the survey crews started cutting down trees on our land. I called the
NYS DOT to find out what was going on, and then they finally asked for permission. They told us if we wanted to fight it, we could, but they could take the land by eminent domain,” he went on.
Commenting on the freedom with which people consider the property as public land, he said: “We don’t mind when people use it – we just get concerned when risky activities take place there.” He went on to tell
about reading a story in the newspaper some time ago about the ROTC training recruits in rappelling, and recognizing the location in the photo as their property: the Ledges! A phone call to the instructor ended that dangerous exercise.
The inevitable construction of Route 17 (now I-86), spring thaws with its raging flood waters, and “Father Time” have made major changes in the once popular spot. The swimming hole, once over eight feet deep,
is now only a wading pool. The creek continues to move closer to McHenry Valley Road, dangerously taking out nearly thirty yards of bank behind the Weitzel home. The cable car and little building are gone. So are the people, for the most part. In the days before TV, computer games, the internet, and
more sophisticated lifestyles claimed a child’s time and energies, the Ledges played a key role in Almond’s summer activities. Today, there is only an occasional visitor to the place that once rang with kids’ voices.
Thoughts of the place bring sentimental yearnings, and a bit of homesickness. Mike Coleman, although gone from this little town for 25 years and now living in a metropolitan area, sums up his memories of the
Ledges this way: ““Thank you for reminding me of it. It's just another reason that I love Almond the way I do.”
Craig Braack concludes this way: “Sadly, the best part of the Ledges was sacrificed for Route 17. The upper two-thirds more or less, and certainly the prettiest, is now gone: under the roadway,
the price we pay for progress. But thanks, dear friend, for asking me to recall my memories of the Ledges. Thanks for the marvelous trip down memory lane to a magical place called childhood.”
