The North Branch of the Black River cuts through a patch of evergreen and down into some highly folded rock. The walls are moderately undercut, deeply contoured and scarcely 15 feet apart at the broadest. It’s a premier low water spot because it’s so tight, anything other than low levels will be awfully fast. Water is beautiful and clear.
Bennett Hammond grew up in nearby Brownsville. Forty years and countless cigarettes later, he found himself lying in a Boston hospital bed recovering from quadruple bypass and thinking about Twenty Foot.
“We’d jump off the highest place you could, the 20-foot jump where you couldn’t even see the water. Jumping from that height where you can’t see the water -- even though you know it’s there -- you could call it a metaphor for life.”
Ten months after his surgery, Hammond decided to revisit this part of the river to renew his faith for the first time since he was 16.
“It’s just a miracle that it hasn’t been ruined," he said toweling off.. "A miracle that it hasn’t been changed. The trees are a little thicker around the middle, but so are we all.”
Copyright Running Water Press 2002