Girdling the waist of New Jersey like a shimmering sash is a historical and natural wonder whose fame is long overdue.
It is the Delaware & Raritan Canal. It was the busiest and most important canal that most people never heard of and is now the busiest state park and longest bike trail that many people don't know.
For 175 years, it flowed from New Brunswick to Trenton and along the Delaware River south from Frenchtown, a waterway of immense significance and still the most intact 19th century canal in America. Yet it was poor step-child to the engineering ingenuity of the Morris Canal, or the pioneering spirit of the Erie Canal.
Sometimes called the "mystery canal" because few documents survive of its building and century of service, the D&R Canal is finally getting some respect. This summer, a series of anniversary programs will promote the canal credited with bringing the Industrial Revolution to New Jersey and the unique park it has become.
"The D&R is a phenomenal resource, but it was overshadowed by the fame of the Morris Canal, which doesn't even exist anymore," said archeologist Brian Morrell, president of the Canal Society of New Jersey. "The D&R is a true treasure."
Completed in 1834, and originally 70 miles long, the canal was designed as a shortcut between New York and the anthracite coal regions of northern Pennsylvania. Cargo was shipped down from the mines, across river, down to Trenton and up to New Brunswick, where it was ferried across the Raritan Bay to New York.
It was the last piece of the inland waterway and a jewel of America's 19th-century canal system, which stretched 5,000 miles across 28 states.
The D&R cost $2.8 million to build, with a vast the human toll: hundreds of Irish laborers died along its banks -- victims of a cholera epidemic -- and, legend has it, are buried where they fell.
The D&R quickly surpassed the Morris and even the Erie Canal, transporting nearly 3 million tons of cargo a day at its peak, historians say. Deeper and wider than some other canals, it could accommodate tug and steamboats as well as yachts. Its locks were the first in America to be automated.
It was used to transport troops during the Civil War. As late as World War I, soldiers patrolled its banks while the canal was used to ship military supplies along a route safe from German subs, historians said.
"Celebrating the history of the D&R is celebrating the history of New Jersey," said Vicki Chirco, resource interpretive specialist of the 35-year-old D&R Canal State Park. "And it is still the source of drinking water for more than 1 million people and an immense natural resource."
As technology advanced, the canal fell to the more efficient railroad system. The D&R closed to commercial traffic in 1932, but was reborn in 1974 as a National historic monument and a long-narrow ribbon of greenway that stretches through four counties.
The locks no longer work, but the "linear park" that includes the canal and towpaths along its banks offers 58 miles of biking, hiking, canoeing, fishing, bird watching and serenity.
The main canal path now stretches 36 miles from just east of New Brunswick to northwest Trenton. The feeder canal route runs 22 miles along the Delaware River to just north of Frenchtown. A section of the canal was paved over in Trenton, but Chirco said there are plans to eventually make the paths contiguous.
The park combines lush stretches full of wildlife with sections that pass through historic towns such as Lambertville and Stockton. Some sections border shopping districts and restaurants. Others pass by abandoned mills and farmhouses, through Washington's Crossing and along waterfalls.
There are an 625 species of plants found along the D&R Canal and 230 species of birds, including herons and bald eagles, naturalists said. Wildlife includes beaver, mink, fox and muskrat. The canal supports catfish, perch and bass and is stocked with trout.
As a youngster, Charles Adams, 94, remembers he was "fascinated by the boats coming down the canal, especially the yachts with their tall masts." Nevertheless, he shrugged when it closed and ignored the canal for a half century, until a knee injury forced him to give up his favorite summer pastime of surf fishing.
"A friend brought me to the feeder canal which is easier to walk, and it's great," said Adams, of Columbus, Burlington Co. "I'm feeding myself and my friends. I caught 50 trout so far this season."
Stephanie Wilder, 30, discovered the canal park shortly after she moved outside of New Hope, Pa., from upstate New York five years ago.
"I'd bike along the Delaware Canal on the Pennsylvania side, but the bugs seem a lot worse on that side, maybe because the water doesn't move so much," Wilder said. "So I rode across the bridge at Lambertville and just kept going."
Wilder said she asked her cycling friends in Pennsylvania why they hadn't mentioned the D&R and "I was amazed that they had never visited it. They just figured that Pennsylvania had to be better than New Jersey."
Ralph Ferdinando, 51, grew up in South Jersey, but never heard of the D&R until he was in his 20's. "Then I caught my first trout there, and I was hooked."
Work took Ferdinando far away from New Jersey for years, but when he returned to the Cherry Hill area a couple of years ago with a new bride, he headed back to the fish at D&R State Park, his wife in tow. They said they are drawn to the "solitude and the sound of the water."
Beyond history and ecology, water supply and land use, the D&R is simply a corridor of verdant beauty tucked away in the belly of a very overdeveloped state.
"I was surprised to see this much nature in New Jersey, " said transplanted Texas native Lynne Ferdinando. "Who knew it was this pretty?"
Anniversary events include concerts, parties, guided walks and bike tours. An exhibit of historical pictures from D&R Canal Commission archives and contemporary artwork selected by the 175th Celebration Committee will be at the Johnson Education Center in Princeton through August 14 and Stockton in September.
For more information on events, visit the canal commission website at www.dandrcanal.com.