Closest I've gotten yet! I surprised two, possibly a mated pair, when I walked behind the substation on Water Street across from McWane International.
Went to the access on Southside to photograph the River. Surprise! The river is already beginning to freeze over.
The closer we get to the bridges the more the ice dissipates, until we finally arrive at the spillover dam.
An awfully cold perch for a Franklin gull. It's actually fishing, dipping and occasionally dunking for a meal.
Now we are looking for signs of Fall. The Autumnal Equinox occurs Monday, the 22nd.
Bittersweet is a very early color-changer this year. It's really trying to take over this tree. At my parent's home in Massachusetts, we used to go into the woods and rip it out, before it could harm our favorite trees.
There are a lot of flowers that come out just in time for the Equinox.
But these little woods are already stripped of much of their foliage. I think they say that early leaf dropping is a sign of severe stress. Wonder what it is?
On the city side of the levee, it is still mostly summer. The lovely blue water isn't that at all; it's an incredible algae bloom. This is a buggy swamp.
Just below the Sewer District, the flood plain is given over to goldenrod.
Staghorn sumac, pushing the envelope of early autumn.
Here is a picture you can trust. When the hillsides just begin to change, Fall is not far off.
I went alone to visit Newtown Creek on Labor Day and had such a good time, that I invited the HuggaMutt the very next day.
Everything is misty and gray at first, but it all burns off by about 10 o'clock. We still aren't able to cross the darned trestle on our own. Can't stand the gaps in the beams.
The creeks never stops looking gorgeous. Unfortunately, we met a lone person who was wandering through the woods. 
Not an egret, although I've heard tell they are in the area. This is a white Great Blue Heron. All the markings are there, but it is white where the others are blue-gray. When it flew away, the wings were all white nearer the body, and still had the black banding near the wing tips.
Three specimens of Pescator chemungis, in their native habitat.
That turned into a bright sunny scorcher. No matter, since I would mostly be in the shade. Not so, however. There are plenty of sun-drenched paths. Fortunately they usually run back into the woods.
And then it is a pretty, shady hike. But the trail I needed to walk was very, very long. To visit the River, even from above, would take me about 45 minutes. Not to mention 45 minutes back.
When I finally saw the Chemung, I had to fight the vertigo. The drop is breathtaking. I was already tired, and it was a struggle to continue walking. Good thing I had my fortified camera pod, because I really needed to lean on something.
No kidding. Looking out over the river, I could see that where the rocks began, the trees stopped.
Finally. Fitch's Bridge.
Still, it was worth the trip. Looking north, one can follow the river all the way out through big Flats. I took one last shot that focused on the opposite bank, zooming in a bit:
Looking straight across, there are pretty farms and some fairly impressive homesteads. Wonder if some of them are new since my last visit?
To the visitors from the stargazette.com blog, welcome to RiverHag's main site. You may recognize the name of the owner of these fields, the Janowski family. Their farm goes way, way back in time, at least to the beginning of the last century.
Nearly all the land that is now the Gateway area of the Chemung River used to be part of their farmland. Of course the various floods changed the topography again and again, but it was still the Janowski's until the Army Corps of Engineers turned it into a protected area.
I don't know if they also owned Jones Island, pictured here. Lately, we can cross the river onto the island, if we don't mind getting our feet wet.
A very beautiful Saturday morning beckoned, so I drove over the Walnut Street bridge down to Hudson Street. I actually wanted to check out Rorick's Glen and see how the river looked from there.
All in all, though, the views are still breath-taking. Stalwarts who stayed the course after the flooding have a day to day reward of lovely Chemung River sights and ready access to pretty fair trout fishing.
How could the grass have gotten so tall so soon? Can't even see Ellie in the picture! This is the way to the wooded part of the strand on the north side of the Chemung, still in Elmira, west side.
Strange bedfellows? I hope not. At first I thought I was seeing a common merganser and her mate. Just as soon as the drake turned into the sunlight, it was clear he was a mallard. No other ducks anywhere close. Just buddies, I guess.
And finally, a green heron. Yeah, despite the reddish brown breast and neck, this is the common green heron. He refused to turn around for a shot of his back. He never took his eyes off me.
Just a little spot that would be perfect for fishing. There are tracks all over this place that look at first glance like a cat's. But the nails are sticking out like a dog's. What would that be?
This tangle will completely hide the shore the next time I return to the Gateway area. I love the tangles, because they shelter the banks from the hot summer sun that intensifies as it comes off the water.
In this photo we can barely see the city of Elmira and its bridges. Behind me is the strand of woodland, and behind that is a power substation, Route 352, and The Kennedy Valve plant.
Same spot, looking southwest with Dunne field in distance, upper right.
This is Newtown Creek, looking west to the Chemung River. Because I am acrophobic, I cannot cross the former railroad trestle to get to the water in the top center. Maybe someday, if I can con someone into visiting the creek with me.
Right now I am delightfully alone, and able to catch a picture of a lone duck, who also thinks he is delightfully alone. He is already quacking in photo, just noticing me as I snap the shot. He then moves on, complaining loudly.
I had hoped that by now (April 15th) there would be lots of greenery, and a chance to plow my way to the River. In fact, I do follow some of the already trodden paths. Unfortunately, there is so much dry knotweed reeds, it is difficult to find my way. And all the feeder creeks are still swollen, making some areas impassable.
No such luck. I am terrified of the height, at least as afraid as Ellie was. I stop, frozen on the spot, and will have to take pictures from here. I can see the path that everyone, especially fishermen, must take at the other end, but...
I am way too afraid of the height. This is not a photo of the sky. What you see is the reflectionof the sun and clouds through the trees above the water of the creek. I can barely move enough to get off the darned bridge.
Underneath is another story. I absolutely love the grafitti here, but it is too offensive to photograph. Suffice to say that it is a bunch of racial and misogynistic and anti-law enforcement crap that is so badly misspelled that it points up the low-class ignorance of the authors.
Well, for heaven's sake, it's almost pretty. Not quite, though.
A pair of wood ducks in a small swampy inlet next to the Chemung itself.
And finally, a caution to anyone interested in walking down by the creek itself. It is very swampy. Wear waterproof hiking boots. Someday I'm bringing a brave soul with me to take my hand and walk me across the trestle to the other path...blindfolded, of course.
