About two and a half years ago I planned to capture three unvisited counties at the far northeastern corner of Ohio. Unfortunately it didn’t happen due to a snowstorm that dumped about a foot of snow on the target area. So instead I changed my plans and focused on Michigan’s thumb.
Now, finally, I had my chance as we drove back from Michigan after my older kid’s graduation from college. We decided to follow Lake Erie’s shoreline rather than the Ohio Turnpike so we could grab that blank spot on my County Counting map. I needed three counties out there: Ohio’s smallest county (Lake), Ohio’s largest county (Ashtabula), and Ohio’s most unpronounceable county (Geauga). I made up that last superlative but I still don’t know how to pronounce it properly. Some say “jee-AW-ge” but that’s a complete tangent. Anyway, thanks to this detour, I’ve now visited every U.S. county bordering Lake Erie, and that makes me happy. It has no intrinsic value beyond that.
Entering Ashtabula
The county is named Ashtabula and so is its largest town, as well as the river that flows into Lake Erie at the same location. Clearly people here have an affinity for all things Ashtabula. Supposedly Ashtabula means “always enough fish to be shared around” in the Lenape language of the original inhabitants. We saw no fish.
Instead, we found a quaint downtown of late 19th Century storefronts although not much seemed to be happening on a Monday evening. Most everything was closed. I guess this is more of a weekend destination — not too far from Cleveland, Ohio or Erie, Pennsylvania — and we didn’t match that pattern.
We had our choice of a local bar or a surprisingly nice steakhouse, and little else if we wanted to eat. Well, I guess we could have backtracked to Interstate 90 for Waffle House if we really wanted (it’s been known to happen). However, steak seemed like the better choice that day. We save Waffle House for important occasions like Christmas.
Point Park
What do you do in a town mostly closed when you don’t want to sit around a hotel room all evening? Take a walk of course.
The last Ice Age deposited mounds of glacial till at the edge of Lake Erie. Here it’s called Ashtabula Till and it formed a series of bluffs along the shoreline. That actually mattered to us because the town built a park atop the bluff adjacent to the river. So we walked up the stairway to Point Park (map) to look around from an elevated perch.
Coal Arch
From Point Park, a visitor can see the harbor and the Ashtabula River, and even Lake Erie off in the distance. I also spotted a lighthouse marking the mouth of the river. Unfortunately I didn’t have my good camera so I couldn’t add it to my lighthouse collection even though I could see it pretty clearly with my eyes. It’s basically a dot on the left side of the photo, above. I found the overall view to be rather… industrial? That’s probably a charitable description.
The large structure arching over the river is a conveyor belt designed to move coal (map). Until recently, trains pulled up and dumped railcars filled with coal at the base of it. The arch then moved it to the docks. From there freighters carried cargo to distant places wherever it was needed. Ashtabula was a very busy commercial port in previous decades although less so now.
Unfortunately, the Norfolk Southern railroad consolidated its coal operation elsewhere and wanted to dismantle the arch. By that time it had become as something of a landmark so the city bought it in 2021 to preserve its iconic skyline. Think of it as a smaller, less imposing, steampunk version of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis.
Ashtabula Lift Bridge
However, nothing compared to the 1925 Bascule-style lift bridge connecting Ashtabula across the river (map). It works on the same principle as a drawbridge on a medieval castle. That cubic structure hovering above the left side of the bridge is a massive block of concrete about the size of a house. It’s a counterweight that swings down as the bridge lifts up, like this image I borrowed from Wikipedia’s Bascule Bridge page.
During the summer months it operates 24 hours a day and it opens on the half-hour when needed, or by appointment during the rest of the year. Numerous pleasure boaters use the Ashtabula marina so it gets regular use. But it wasn’t summer and I didn’t get to see the bridge lift. That makes it almost worth returning someday because I’ve never seen a bridge quite like this before.
Swarm of Bees
Well, the bridge never opened so I had to find excitement elsewhere. Fortunately we stumbled upon this big swarm of Western Honey Bees on the move. The coal arch appears at upper left and the bascule bridge appears at upper right. But neither of them was undulating with a seething mass of bees. They were generally docile so I got reasonably close although I still played it safe with the camera.
Cloven Hoof Brewery
I felt I’d earned a beer after all that apiary excitement so we stopped by Cloven Hoof Brewing on the way back to the hotel. I’m surprised it was open actually, after practically everywhere else downtown was already closed for the evening. Well, yes, it was open but also very quiet. So I ordered a crowler to go and enjoyed it when I returned to the hotel. I figured that was good enough to earn another waypoint on my beer hunting map.
They named one of their beers after the most infamous event in the town’s history, the Ashtabula bridge disaster. Back in 1876, a bridge collapsed as a train crossed it, resulting in a massive loss of life from the fall and an ensuing fire. Things have been considerably quieter in Ashtabula since then.
Covered Bridges
I knew that Ashtabula County had some covered bridges but I didn’t know they had 19 of them and even published a formalized covered bridge trail. Several are modern structures including the Smolen-Gulf Bridge, the longest covered bridge in the United States. I imagine Ashtabula uses these bridges as a tourism draw, but that wasn’t why we were here. Sure, it was a welcome bonus but it wasn’t the primary purpose for our detour.
Also, we didn’t follow the trail and we visited only 3 of the 19. They happened to fall along our general path as we left Ashtabula on the way home. They all crossed Mill Creek in Jefferson Township at various places and it added maybe fifteen minutes to the overall drive.
Doyle Road Covered Bridge
First we encountered the Doyle Road bridge (map). This one was genuinely old, having been built in 1868. We drove right on through it on a path towards the next bridge.
Giddings Road Covered Bridge
And that next bridge appeared on Giddings Road (map). It’s a modern structure, built in 1995. I’ve seen several contemporary bridges like this and I’m not sure how I feel about them. Obviously coverings today no longer serve the original purpose of protecting a bridge deck from weathering. Modern ones are basically sheds built atop a normal concrete overpass. But they look pretty so that goes a long way.
Netcher Road Covered Bridge
The final bridge appeared on Netcher Road (map). This was another modern bridge, dating to 1998. It looked a little fancier than the others, with Victorian accents included in its architectural details. That was a nice touch.
I find so many interesting places when I go County Counting.
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