Baby boomers who grew up in River Valley towns have lots of stories to tell about the Connecticut, most of them negative.

The river, in the post WWII era, was off-limits for kids and totally shunned by their parents. But the kids, especially restless teenagers propelled by a twisted fascination, always managed to find their way down to the big stream.

That was the problem — what was in there. By the mid-20th century, the Connecticut was earning the reputation among experts as the nation’s ‘best landscaped sewer.” Traditional spring runs of shad and Atlantic salmon had disappeared along with the other wildlife species they supported. By the 60s and 70s the river, for many of us, was for subversive activities shrouded in a youth-inspired “To Kill a Mocking Bird” aura of mystery and danger.

Townsfolk had largely turned their backs on it. Though they may have accepted it as the inevitable by-product of job-generating industrial growth, it was a foul-smelling embarrassment beyond salvation.

Before industrialization desecrated its water and killed its wildlife, the Connecticut had been the mainstay of the River Valley’s prosperous agricultural and shipbuilding economy. The river’s meandering curves allowed the creation of hidden coves, some natural — some man-made, where shipbuilding activities were safe from the scrutiny of British naval forces and the unpredictable rage of the river during flood seasons.

With the region’s heavy industry on the decline and the environmental movement emerging, the 1980s brought a new appreciation of the Connecticut. Organizations like the Connecticut River Watershed Association and the Nature Conservancy led the way. Joined locally by the Connecticut DEP, Great Meadows Trust and the Connecticut Audubon Center of Glastonbury, they started to reclaim the river and the meadows along its banks.

Enter Silvio O. Conte, a 16-term U.S. Congressman from Pittsfield, MA. In 1991, Conte, an avid naturalist, introduced legislation to protect the Connecticut and return spawning salmon to the river. The refuge created by that legislation was renamed in his honor in 1997. The Silvio O. Conte National Fish and Wildlife Refuge stretches the river’s entire length through four states; protecting not only the fish and fauna but, in cooperation with state and local organizations, landowners and individuals, its vastly varying watersheds.

All the valley towns now view the Connecticut as a lifestyle amenity and are beginning to acknowledge it as an important economic asset with some towns even banning new construction within protective zones. Today there are lots more stories for the baby boomers to tell. But the ones they’re telling their grandchildren have happy endings.
The first one is about the eagles. Extinct about three decades ago, several families now nest along the shoreline. Kids are learning about herons, snipes and woodcock. There are “field trials” in the meadows with elegant horses and pedigreed dogs racing across the open land. Hobbyists fly colorful remote-controlled model airplanes above the flats. Boaters docked in coves and the river’s edge venture out for a relaxing evening cruise or a refreshing swim on hot summer days. Canoes and kayaks are a common sight and reproductions of vintage riverboats full of tourists cruise from Essex, Middletown and Hartford. Of course, there are fish stories too — about 50-inch stripers, trophy largemouth, shad runs and the reintroduction of the Atlantic salmon.

Then there’s the revelation that our River Valley is a very unique part of the 410-mile long Connecticut River Valley that stretches from northern Vermont to Old Saybrook. The big stream we took for granted shifted with the floods, scribbling a distinctive signature of oxbows and meanders in the sediment deposited by what was once a glacial lake. An Ice Age glacial-rift dam at Rocky Hill created 175-mile-long Lake Hitchcock, which covered the fertile floodplains upriver. The dam ultimately gave way, releasing a flood that carved out the narrow fjord-type formation that drops off heading into Middletown and onward to the Sound. From this point southward, the river responds to tidal changes, tying it ever closer to the sea.

At East Haddam, the landmarks Gillette Castle and Goodspeed Opera House, both public attractions, are perched above the river where they’ve stood for over a century. The castle is the centerpiece of Gillette Castle State Park. Built between 1914 and 1917, some say it was designed to resemble the fortress of Robert LeDiable of Normandy who was the father of William the Conqueror. A Hartford native, railroad buff and, most notably, a famous actor known for his role as Sherlock Holmes, William Gillette cherished the castle and the river views from this site 200 feet above sea level. Today the park and Gillette’s three-mile-long model rail system give visitors a glimpse of his lavish lifestyle.

Goodspeed Opera House, which predates the castle by a quarter century, was built by William H. Goodspeed to accommodate his many enterprises and his love of the theater. At river level, the Victorian-style gem housed a store, offices and riverboat passenger and freight services. The upper floor housed the theater. As riverboat traffic declined, so did the theater. During the early 1900s it became a militia base; in the 50s and 60s it was a State of Connecticut Highway Department storage facility. In 1959, The Goodspeed Opera House Foundation acquired and reclaimed it as a theater. Goodspeed would revitalize musical theater and win Tonys and special awards for regional theater and for its contributions to musical theater. Goodspeed stages performances year-round and tours are available.

Two ferryboats still carry foot passengers and cars between Rocky Hill and Glastonbury on the Upper River, and Chester and East Haddam in the Lower Valley. The Rocky Hill-Glastonbury Ferry, in operation since 1655, and the Chester-Hadlyme Ferry that first plyed the river in 1769, have the distinction of being the two oldest ferry lines in the U.S. Today’s Hadlyme crossing is made aboard a 65-foot, open-deck craft built in 1949. The Rocky Hill ferry consists of an open flatboat and a diesel-powered towboat. Both provide fun and convenient trips across the “big river” on a seasonal schedule.

At its mouth, at Essex and Old Saybrook, the “river meets the Sound.” Here the estuary is unsullied and the tidal marshes and wetlands unspoiled by the development typically associated with maritime commerce. The Saybrook Point and Lynde Point Lights stand sentinel over the ever-shifting sand bar that spared Old Saybrook from becoming a major port city, blocked the river from deep-draft ship traffic and protected the estuary and wetland ecosystems from destruction. The International Ramsar Convention Treaty named them a “Wetland of International Importance,” and in 1993, the Nature Conservancy designated the tidelands a “Last Great Place,” one of 40 biologically important ecosystems in the western hemisphere. As for the towns— they retained an historic persona of tidy coastal charm and remain connected to the river and the sea in an ageless, elemental way.