Crooked River Valley

Ohio Theme Month

Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks

Chocolate-brown, oily, bubbling with subsurface gases, it oozes rather than flows. “Anyone who falls into the Cuyahoga does not drown,” Cleveland’s citizens joke grimly. “He decays.”

—Time Magazine

The great question of the ’70s is, shall we surrender to our surroundings, or shall we make our peace with nature and begin to make reparations for the damage we have done to our air, to our land and to our water?

–Richard Nixon

Perhaps the poster waterway for pollution, the Cuyahoga River famously caught fire.

It’s a striking image. Burning water should be impossible; water helps put fires out.

Saying the Cuyahoga caught fire undersells the severity of the situation. A 1969 conflagration caught the attention of Time Magazine and the rest of the nation, but the river had burned more than a dozen times before. We had turned our rivers into sewers, letting them drain off industrial, agricultural, and human waste. Much of the Cuyahoga’s 85 miles was nearly devoid of life. The only thing that survived was a species of cyanobacteria.

The blaze at the sunset of the 60s flipped a switch for the nation. Fire on the water pushed a collective will to create the Environmental Protection Agency and the Clean Water Act. The latter featured a directive to make waterways swimmable and fishable; a low but necessary bar.

Once the prototype for pollution, the past half-century has transformed the Cuyahoga from oil slick to the poster waterway for rejuvenation and cleanliness in the midst of urbanity. In 2000, this once-maligned river even became the centerpiece of its own national park.

The origin of the word Cuyahoga is as murky as its 1960s waters.

Indigenous cultures have inhabited the river’s banks for hundreds and, likely, thousands of years. One etymology places the name to mean “Crooked River,” coming from the Mohawk Cayagaga. The only problem with this notion is that the Mohawk never lived in the region. Another native word, the Senecan Gayó’ha’geh, could be the genesis, meaning “jawbone,” “on the chin,” or “place of the jawbone.” The aural similarity and the river’s distinct V-shaped course lend some credence to this idea, but the Seneca inhabited spots closer to Lake Ontario than Erie.

However its name congealed, the Cuyahoga does resemble a jawbone. With an origin near Lake Erie, it flows south before abruptly jutting northward to empty into the Great Lake. Along the way, it passes through the metropolises of Akron and Cleveland.

An extraordinary clean-up effort transpired after the 1969 fire, led by Cleveland mayor Carl Stokes.

Citizens and government entities physically removed debris and contaminants. Polluting sources were sequestered. Slowly, the sludge cleared and the wildlife returned.

In 1974, President Gerald Ford signed a bill that created the Cuyahoga Valley National Recreation Area. In 2000, it became Cuyahoga Valley National Park, the first such unit in Ohio.

The park is unique; it’s a weave of gorgeous nature and humanity. Two major cities bookend the unit, while small towns, a railroad, a canal, and various other modern creations inhabit the valley. Nestled next to each other are the core of American cities and waterfalls, wildflowers, and wildlife.

More than a hundred waterfalls dot the park. The largest is Brandywine Falls, which plummets 65 feet over Berea Sandstone.

Numerous rock outcroppings create glorious ledges and talus caves.

The Ohio and Erie Canal traversed the land through the park. A 20-mile towpath allows a visitor to inspect the artificial waterway and its locks.

The Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad is one of the best ways to experience the valley’s superb fall foliage.

World-class birding brings tourists from afar, as nearly 250 avian species make the park their year-round home or migrate through it.

Most National Parks in the United States are located away from major population centers, and for many people, that attribute is a draw. But Cuyahoga Valley National Park demonstrates that proximity to cities doesn’t necessarily mean an absence of beauty.

Allowing visitors a respite from urban life without requiring them to travel long distances is a boon.

Helping to preserve nature in non-traditional locations, helping to reverse the damage humans have imposed on landscapes, Cuyahoga Valley expands the definition of what it means to be a National Park.

It’s also a stark reminder that we can make things better. Half a century ago, one could rightly call the Cuyahoga a cesspool. Sometimes environmental issues seem too large to tackle, but this river in northeastern Ohio teaches us that we can make profound impacts if only we have the will.