Sunday, September 6, 2009

Between a Rock and a Hard Place on the Chagrin River

In 1885, Chagrin Falls blacksmith and artist Henry Church carved an image into massive sandstone rock that sat along the Chagrin River. Feeling the need to artistically represent the hardships that Native Americans had -- and were -- enduring at the time, his sculpture featured a snake encircling a woman. Titled "The rape of the Indians by White man," Church's work soon became known as Squaw Rock (GPS coordinates, map).

Nearly 125 years later the name, and the sculpture, remain. Now a part of the Cleveland Metroparks (the "Emerald Necklace" of parks that encircle the city), Squaw Rock is a part of a short, but tricky, path that skirts the Chagrin River as part of the South Chagrin branch of the Metropark. Nestled in a valley between the cities of Solon, Bentleyville and Chagrin, the South Chagrin Reservation is a popular park that features paved walking trails, bridle paths, hiking trails, an arboretum and plenty of open places for recreation.

The sixth-tenths of a mile loop is not aerobically challenging, but the path along the river is narrow, sloping and unpaved. It is not handicapped accessible, but there are plans to make it so (it is hard to imagine how this will be accomplished). Many like to bring their dogs and/or wade in the shallow Chagrin River, which can be tricky with the shale and sandstone rocks that when wet or mossy can be treacherous footing. What often looks like a good foothold can often be a teetering rock. Despite the mild risk to your health, the location is relaxing. It is hard to fathom that, paradoxically, less than a quarter of a mile in either direction are roads of bustling suburban traffic.

The upper path winds through hemlocks, pine, maples and oaks. The climate of the shaded woods offers an array of wild flowers, ferns and fungus. There are several vantage points along small bridges to view down into the valley. These bridges ford the ditches that nature has developed to drain storm water into the river. At one location you can read signage about the story of the rock with a glimpse over the ridge to the rock below.

Like many other places in Ohio, the geology of the area features jutting limestone and sandstone that time and weather have artistically worn into an array of shapes. Descending the river basin along the carved steps is not difficult in typical weather, but should be undertaken with caution in rain or ice. The paths, however, can lead to a trip or twist of the foot if you are not watching.

Before ascending back to the parking area there is a horseshoe falls area. Dropping perhaps 20 feet or so over a series of jagged shale, the falls cascade more than plunge. It is a popular place for hikers to wade and even attempt a swim. The river is rarely more than half a foot deep in most places, but at the base of the falls there are depths of 3 to 4 feet. A few brave souls sometimes jump from one section of the falls into the river, inadvisable as it would apparently seem.

Squaw Rock itself has survived the elements remarkably well despite being a sandstone facing. While the images today are hard to decipher in photographs, and only a little easier in person, a photo postcard in 1912 reveals the beauty of the work in its relative youth. As the postcard's title shows, even a scant 30 years past its incarnation the site was referred to as Squaw Rock.

But the rock is not without controversy. While part of the region's geographic vernacular for generations, a Cleveland Plain Dealer story in July of 2008 pointed to the reshaping of the American landscape by diminishing the use of Indian pejoratives. Over the last decade over 150 "squaw" names have been dropped in favor of terms less culturally offensive. The use of the word squaw has a demeaning, if not vulgar, history. But there are no plans to change the name of the rock.


That leaves Squaw Rock both figuratively and literally between a rock and hard place. In three separate centuries local inhabitants have used the same moniker for the landmark, firmly entrenching the name in local history. Yet the wider history of the nation, and desires to right the wrongs of cultural insensitivities beckons. The delicate sandstone sculpture has withstood the elements of wind, rain and river, but will it withstand history?

- J.

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