What a transition! After miles of hiking in the near-wilderness, we spent the other day biking along the highways and byways of Orange County. And guess what...it was still the Long Path! The previous section of the Path is the 10-mile trek over Schunemunk Mountain, which we did last year. The contrast was no less vivid from our Shawangunk hike last week. This was a whole different ballgame.
Our expedition began at the Hil-Mar Lodge in Salisbury Mills. This brought back happy memories of stumbling down Schunemunk to the Lodge, what seems like a long time ago. We parked in the exact same spot, and unloaded our bikes. Hmmm. I thought we swore not to do any more "round-trip" expeditions. What happened to the "car at either end" plan? Maybe we ran out of bike racks. Anyway, how hard could it be to bike along nice paved roads in lovely Orange County?
We began to find out the answer to this question as cars and trucks whizzed by us on Clove Road. They were going really fast, and we had no shoulder to ride on. Kinda scary. Soon enough we turned onto an old abandoned road, and things got more pleasant for awhile. Up a hill and down the other side. Past a beautiful pond, with turtles basking on a log. Silent Panther sped ahead on his hybrid bike, perfect for the rough pavement. My old beach bomber got a run for its money. Luckily, all seven gears were working.
Uh-oh, back on the public streets. Woodcock Mountain Road was just paved, and the drop off the edge of the road is precipitous. We did not want to end up in that ditch, so we had to switch sides a few times to avoid speeding cars. Does everyone drive too fast up here? Well, the scenery is beautiful, and the farms are still in business. At the corner of Route 208, a big sign welcomed us to Washingtonville. There was a huge cornfield, and cars going even faster.
Luckily, we soon turned off 208 onto Horton Road, which was more relaxing. We were getting quite a workout with the hills, and started to question our goal of 9 miles. Left on 94, past the Blooming Grove police station. I feel safer already. A quick right on Tuthill Road...hey, there's a deli. That could be useful in the future! Left on Cherry Hill Road, and down into a valley. There's a pretty stream, and a wide floodplain. Everything is under water, thanks to the rainiest month of August that I can remember. Around and down and left on Hulsetown Road, and...
You've got to be kidding me...it's the longest uphill climb in the universe! You never saw such a hill! It just keeps going up and up and up. All the Long Path Guide book says is "go straight." I think it should say "Warning! Longest uphill climb in the universe!" No way the old beach bomber was making it up this hill. (Or maybe I am out of shape. You can try biking up that hill and let me know). Anyway, it wasn't easy pushing that beast up that incline. Did I mention that it was about a thousand degrees, and very humid? Whose brilliant idea was this?
Finally back in the saddle, along route 51, down hill, then up alongside a beautiful stream full of rapids. Right turn on Goshen Road, and there's a scenic bridge over the stream, and a private park. The church nearby makes this park available to visitors. Thanks, guys; we really needed a break. Silent Panther and I ate crackers and drank water in a nice shady picnic spot. I explored the bank of the stream, and watched the water race around a tight curve. Bedrock jutted out all over, and the rocky islands were covered with moss. What an amazing place, wild and wet. Two teenagers rode by in the back of a pickup truck. Is that legal in Orange County? It worked out pretty well, because they went to the church, fired up their instruments, and played some heavy metal music. If that song was from the service, then I want to join that church!
Just ahead, the railroad crossing marked our 9-mile destination. We can park a car here next time. And guess what; two cars would be nice...one at each end. Because, we did not do that today, so now we had to bike 9 miles back to the car! I must admit, the endless downhill was much more fun than the endless uphill had been. We ended up at the bottom, looking out over Tomahawk Lake, our hair blown back, and ridiculous smiles frozen on our faces.
The highlight of the return trip was the Blooming Grove Deli. What an oasis! What a lifesaver! The nice lady made us sandwiches, and we found cool drinks. Maybe Orange County is okay after all. After a much-needed rest, we saddled up and pushed back to the Lodge. We were both exhausted, and needed a lot of stretching to work out the leg cramps. 18 miles is one thing on a rail trail, but it is a different story when hills and highways get involved. I will have more sympathy for the bikers that come through our town, but I still don't understand why they insist on riding next to each other, in the middle of the lane. It's nice to get home alive.
We have 3 more sections of "road walk" left in Orange County, then it's back to the Shawangunks, and then the Catskills. Onwards and upwards! And back into the woods as soon as possible.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Shawangunk Ridge Trail Adventures
It’s a nice day for a hike. Let’s do a chunk of the Long Path along the Shawangunk Ridge Trail. We’ll save the Orange County portion for a bike ride at a later date. Off Route 17 in Sullivan County, up a gravel road. No one out driving, but lots of pickup trucks in the yards. It’s always amazing how quickly you can get to a truly rural area. Why did a Smart Car just go by? Wurtsboro is a land of contradictions.
Ditch the car, stride into the woods, cross into another dimension. The Green Zone. The trees are very lush and happy; lots of rain lately. The woods don’t have that dry, brown August thing going on. Electric-colored fungi are poking up randomly, and all the berries are big and juicy. We sample blackberries, blueberries, huckleberries and wintergreen. Uh-oh…somebody else had the same idea, and they left an enormous chunk of scat on the trail. Definitely could be a black bear. Judging by the size of its calling card, it could be as big as a Smart Car!
Out on a ledge, with a great view of the ridge across the valley. Nothin’ but trees. In the bottom of the valley, however, there are a couple of strange things. An enormous rectangle? The Long Path Guide book says that it is a Kohls warehouse. It’s really big. Next to that is a tiny airport. We watch gliders getting towed behind airplanes, then being released to swoop around and float slowly down to the runway. Where did humans get this idea? A sharp cry reminds us; it’s a red-tailed hawk soaring on thermal air currents. We wonder if the hawk’s scream will scare a little critter into making a crazy dash across the clearing. We find several little critters, but they are bright orange salamanders, and they ignore both us and the hawk.
Oddly, we are following blue plastic disks, instead of LP blue blazes. The disks lead us down into a valley with a maze of streams flowing around and under the massive root systems of beautiful trees: birches, cottonwoods and maples. The streams appear and disappear suddenly at the bases of trees; tiny pools are full of tinier frogs; the burbling sounds join to form a watery symphony. Major Tom loves this spot, and Silent Panther is even more impressed. My feet are soaked, but I am still smiling.
Up the other side of the valley, there are memories of fire all around us: some trees blackened and dead, some with charred trunks but new leaves sprouting forth in odd places. Lots of undergrowth taking advantage of the increase in sunlight. We use burned sticks to draw our signs on a rock. Silent Panther draws his footprint (claws out), and I draw the shape I found on a rock carving years ago: two curving parallel lines approaching an ellipse. I think it is a symbol or a map, but an expert on petroglyphs said that it is a coincidence of natural weathering. I gave the rock to the Ramapough Lenape, but I have adopted the symbol as my sign.
The next summit is covered with more blueberries than I have ever seen. I eat hundreds (or at least dozens). There are pitch pines and scrub oak, and more bear scat. We look around nervously. The woods seem really quiet all of a sudden, and we are pretty creeped out. As we sneak around the curving trail, we are confronted with an awesome sight: a huge mountain in the distance. “Mt. Doom!,” whispers Silent Panther. The LP Guide suggests that it is actually our first glimpse of the Catskills, but I am not so sure. Definitely a spooky vibe.
Down again, toward Roosa Gap, and we are getting very tired. The climb up to Ferguson Road is tough. Must be snack time. Reaching the road, we find it hard to believe that we have only hiked for 3 miles. I guess we have to hike back about…3 miles. Next time, we will bring two cars, so we don’t have to double our hiking distance. After popcorn and granola bars, we feel a bit stronger. I hang my socks up to dry, which helps a little. Silent Panther sneezes, and is answered by some small furry critter, who lets out a burst of mammalian static. Another sneeze, another screech in response! What the heck was that?
Must be time to start stumbling back. The downhill is not so bad, and we cross Roosa Gap in short order. Climbing the other side is more of a challenge. I’m slowing down, and SP is getting farther ahead; I guess he is in better shape than me. By the top of the ridge, I am really dragging. Even trudging down through the burned forest is not too cool; we have been discovered by clouds of gnats. We start to have a negative attitude toward this whole expedition. It is taking us from 9 til 5 to hike three miles, including driving and re-tracing our steps. Feeling sore and tired and hot and soggy and then…
We are floating up the hill! Those gliders have nothing on us; we are borne aloft by the wings of the hikers’ high! No more pain or fatigue. SP says that his legs feel very heavy and very light at the same time. I wonder if my brain is releasing endorphins; my feet do not seem to touch the ground. The last few hills and valleys pose no challenge at all. Our moods lift, and we laugh and joke for the final mile. Everything seems possible, and we talk about upcoming expeditions.
I stop to pick a cup of blackberries for the family. As we glide out of the woods and onto the gravel road, the Smart Car comes driving back in the opposite direction. What a bizarre coincidence. I wonder what he was doing for his 9 to 5. He probably went more than 3 miles. Oh well, we feel good, and we can highlight another chunk of the Long Path on the map on the wall of SP’s room. That was fun…let’s do some more next week.
Ditch the car, stride into the woods, cross into another dimension. The Green Zone. The trees are very lush and happy; lots of rain lately. The woods don’t have that dry, brown August thing going on. Electric-colored fungi are poking up randomly, and all the berries are big and juicy. We sample blackberries, blueberries, huckleberries and wintergreen. Uh-oh…somebody else had the same idea, and they left an enormous chunk of scat on the trail. Definitely could be a black bear. Judging by the size of its calling card, it could be as big as a Smart Car!
Out on a ledge, with a great view of the ridge across the valley. Nothin’ but trees. In the bottom of the valley, however, there are a couple of strange things. An enormous rectangle? The Long Path Guide book says that it is a Kohls warehouse. It’s really big. Next to that is a tiny airport. We watch gliders getting towed behind airplanes, then being released to swoop around and float slowly down to the runway. Where did humans get this idea? A sharp cry reminds us; it’s a red-tailed hawk soaring on thermal air currents. We wonder if the hawk’s scream will scare a little critter into making a crazy dash across the clearing. We find several little critters, but they are bright orange salamanders, and they ignore both us and the hawk.
Oddly, we are following blue plastic disks, instead of LP blue blazes. The disks lead us down into a valley with a maze of streams flowing around and under the massive root systems of beautiful trees: birches, cottonwoods and maples. The streams appear and disappear suddenly at the bases of trees; tiny pools are full of tinier frogs; the burbling sounds join to form a watery symphony. Major Tom loves this spot, and Silent Panther is even more impressed. My feet are soaked, but I am still smiling.
Up the other side of the valley, there are memories of fire all around us: some trees blackened and dead, some with charred trunks but new leaves sprouting forth in odd places. Lots of undergrowth taking advantage of the increase in sunlight. We use burned sticks to draw our signs on a rock. Silent Panther draws his footprint (claws out), and I draw the shape I found on a rock carving years ago: two curving parallel lines approaching an ellipse. I think it is a symbol or a map, but an expert on petroglyphs said that it is a coincidence of natural weathering. I gave the rock to the Ramapough Lenape, but I have adopted the symbol as my sign.
The next summit is covered with more blueberries than I have ever seen. I eat hundreds (or at least dozens). There are pitch pines and scrub oak, and more bear scat. We look around nervously. The woods seem really quiet all of a sudden, and we are pretty creeped out. As we sneak around the curving trail, we are confronted with an awesome sight: a huge mountain in the distance. “Mt. Doom!,” whispers Silent Panther. The LP Guide suggests that it is actually our first glimpse of the Catskills, but I am not so sure. Definitely a spooky vibe.
Down again, toward Roosa Gap, and we are getting very tired. The climb up to Ferguson Road is tough. Must be snack time. Reaching the road, we find it hard to believe that we have only hiked for 3 miles. I guess we have to hike back about…3 miles. Next time, we will bring two cars, so we don’t have to double our hiking distance. After popcorn and granola bars, we feel a bit stronger. I hang my socks up to dry, which helps a little. Silent Panther sneezes, and is answered by some small furry critter, who lets out a burst of mammalian static. Another sneeze, another screech in response! What the heck was that?
Must be time to start stumbling back. The downhill is not so bad, and we cross Roosa Gap in short order. Climbing the other side is more of a challenge. I’m slowing down, and SP is getting farther ahead; I guess he is in better shape than me. By the top of the ridge, I am really dragging. Even trudging down through the burned forest is not too cool; we have been discovered by clouds of gnats. We start to have a negative attitude toward this whole expedition. It is taking us from 9 til 5 to hike three miles, including driving and re-tracing our steps. Feeling sore and tired and hot and soggy and then…
We are floating up the hill! Those gliders have nothing on us; we are borne aloft by the wings of the hikers’ high! No more pain or fatigue. SP says that his legs feel very heavy and very light at the same time. I wonder if my brain is releasing endorphins; my feet do not seem to touch the ground. The last few hills and valleys pose no challenge at all. Our moods lift, and we laugh and joke for the final mile. Everything seems possible, and we talk about upcoming expeditions.
I stop to pick a cup of blackberries for the family. As we glide out of the woods and onto the gravel road, the Smart Car comes driving back in the opposite direction. What a bizarre coincidence. I wonder what he was doing for his 9 to 5. He probably went more than 3 miles. Oh well, we feel good, and we can highlight another chunk of the Long Path on the map on the wall of SP’s room. That was fun…let’s do some more next week.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Happy Earth Day!
In celebration of Earth Day, Silent Panther and Major Tom decide to traverse four peaks in the northwest corner of Harriman Park. This is our last section in the lower portion of the Long Path. After this, we will be biking up in Orange County, heading for the Shawangunks. With Spring coming late to the Ramapo Highlands, today’s hike feels like an ending and a beginning.
Uh-oh. There is frost on the deck when I wake up this morning. It has been a long, cold Winter, but frost on April 22? Wow. Last night’s clear skies must have let all the warmth escape. Early sunshine brings the temperature up into the 40’s, then the sky covers with gray clouds. Hey, at least we won’t be sweating too much.
We get dropped off on the side of route 6, west of the intersection with route 293. Cold, tired and stiff. Only half-awake, we don’t talk much. Trudging into the woods, we are confronted with ominous military warnings. Looks like we will be walking along the border of West Point Military Reservation. Some distant rifle shots emphasize the point. Okay, I guess we will be sticking close to the trail.
Sometimes we hike for hours before we are transported into an altered state. Today, it happens immediately. Both of our spirit animals make their presence known as we crest the first ridge. My vulture sweeps low overhead, freezing us in awe. He has one feather missing on the left wing, just like the first vulture I bonded with on West Hook Mountain. I briefly entertain the impossible thought that it is the same bird.
Silent Panther is focused on the cliff across the valley. There is a sizable cave, about right for a family of big cats. We don’t explore closer, out of a healthy respect for both felines and the U.S. Army. I wish for the hundredth time to see a bobcat in the wild. I have heard them yowling at night, a sound that froze my blood. As for panthers, the experts say that they do not live in New York state, but there are stories…
The remoteness of this location adds to the feelings of wildness and raw beauty. It seems like people rarely come here. As we hike five miles today, we only see one other human being. Much of the path is covered in a thick carpet of moss. It would be rapidly destroyed by the boots of hikers. We walk softly, enjoying the cushioned bounce. The mountain laurel is starting to think about blooming in a few weeks. The trout lilies are everywhere, but only showing blossoms on a few South-facing slopes. Wintergreen berries from last Summer are still delicious. Thousands of acorns are splitting open, showing their red insides as they sprout. The skunk cabbage is poking up in the wet areas, with a couple of brave frogs peeping nearby. The sound of a machine gun is not from West Point, but from a woodpecker. All is right with the world.
There is a spectacular waterfall on the east slope of Blackcap Mountain. The rock face, almost vertical, is coated with a thick layer of moss. The water starts as a free flow, but the green carpet absorbs so much that the water is conducted silently and invisibly, till it drips out the bottom. We stand in silence for many minutes, watching all the variations in color and texture and flow. It’s a remarkable place.
Across route 293, we climb Brooks Mountain. Whoever laid out the Long Path here was in a real hurry. No time for switchbacks, just head straight uphill! We are out of shape and exhausted. On the positive side, the Hikers’ High really kicks in. We stop for a snack on top. Then down the other side, with a beautiful view of Lake Massawippa to our right. The Long Path Guide book describes the lowland that we are about to cross as “a classic U-shaped post-glacial valley”. As advertised, we come to the outlet stream from the lake, but that’s when things get ugly.
The promised log bridge is nowhere to be seen. Major Tom makes a calculated risk on a jump to a slimy rock. Bad idea. I pull myself to shore, cold and wet, with a throbbing ankle. Silent Panther chooses a better spot to cross, then takes five steps and twists his ankle! This is the low point of the day. All of a sudden, civilization seems very far away. No cell phone signal. Well, we would tough it out anyway.
We are faced with a steep climb up Howell Mountain. Not much fun on bad ankles. We decide to stop for lunch. The ice pack numbs everything, and we plan our final assault on Long Mountain. The sandwiches taste great, and our state of mind improves. Who needs ankles anyway? It is a beautiful day, and we are out in the woods. Onwards and upwards! There is a great view from the top of Howell Mountain, and our spirits soar.
Down, down, down into Deep Hollow. We pass striped maple trees, rarely seen in these parts. Several streams snake across the bottom of the hollow, some rocky and some with sandy bottoms. We cross much more carefully than before, inching across a fallen red oak. One more major uphill climb to the top of Long Mountain. Wow, what a panorama. The best view ever of Popolopen Torne, probably the coolest peak in the park. There’s Perkins Tower, on top of Bear Mountain. Stockbridge to the South, and a beautiful lake below. For the millionth time, I am grateful to the people who had the vision to preserve this magical landscape.
On down the final slope, our pain forgotten, we talk about the challenges ahead. There is still a lot of Long Path waiting for us. It’s only April, and everything seems possible. Harriman Park did not let us go easily, but we are ready for our next step.
Uh-oh. There is frost on the deck when I wake up this morning. It has been a long, cold Winter, but frost on April 22? Wow. Last night’s clear skies must have let all the warmth escape. Early sunshine brings the temperature up into the 40’s, then the sky covers with gray clouds. Hey, at least we won’t be sweating too much.
We get dropped off on the side of route 6, west of the intersection with route 293. Cold, tired and stiff. Only half-awake, we don’t talk much. Trudging into the woods, we are confronted with ominous military warnings. Looks like we will be walking along the border of West Point Military Reservation. Some distant rifle shots emphasize the point. Okay, I guess we will be sticking close to the trail.
Sometimes we hike for hours before we are transported into an altered state. Today, it happens immediately. Both of our spirit animals make their presence known as we crest the first ridge. My vulture sweeps low overhead, freezing us in awe. He has one feather missing on the left wing, just like the first vulture I bonded with on West Hook Mountain. I briefly entertain the impossible thought that it is the same bird.
Silent Panther is focused on the cliff across the valley. There is a sizable cave, about right for a family of big cats. We don’t explore closer, out of a healthy respect for both felines and the U.S. Army. I wish for the hundredth time to see a bobcat in the wild. I have heard them yowling at night, a sound that froze my blood. As for panthers, the experts say that they do not live in New York state, but there are stories…
The remoteness of this location adds to the feelings of wildness and raw beauty. It seems like people rarely come here. As we hike five miles today, we only see one other human being. Much of the path is covered in a thick carpet of moss. It would be rapidly destroyed by the boots of hikers. We walk softly, enjoying the cushioned bounce. The mountain laurel is starting to think about blooming in a few weeks. The trout lilies are everywhere, but only showing blossoms on a few South-facing slopes. Wintergreen berries from last Summer are still delicious. Thousands of acorns are splitting open, showing their red insides as they sprout. The skunk cabbage is poking up in the wet areas, with a couple of brave frogs peeping nearby. The sound of a machine gun is not from West Point, but from a woodpecker. All is right with the world.
There is a spectacular waterfall on the east slope of Blackcap Mountain. The rock face, almost vertical, is coated with a thick layer of moss. The water starts as a free flow, but the green carpet absorbs so much that the water is conducted silently and invisibly, till it drips out the bottom. We stand in silence for many minutes, watching all the variations in color and texture and flow. It’s a remarkable place.
Across route 293, we climb Brooks Mountain. Whoever laid out the Long Path here was in a real hurry. No time for switchbacks, just head straight uphill! We are out of shape and exhausted. On the positive side, the Hikers’ High really kicks in. We stop for a snack on top. Then down the other side, with a beautiful view of Lake Massawippa to our right. The Long Path Guide book describes the lowland that we are about to cross as “a classic U-shaped post-glacial valley”. As advertised, we come to the outlet stream from the lake, but that’s when things get ugly.
The promised log bridge is nowhere to be seen. Major Tom makes a calculated risk on a jump to a slimy rock. Bad idea. I pull myself to shore, cold and wet, with a throbbing ankle. Silent Panther chooses a better spot to cross, then takes five steps and twists his ankle! This is the low point of the day. All of a sudden, civilization seems very far away. No cell phone signal. Well, we would tough it out anyway.
We are faced with a steep climb up Howell Mountain. Not much fun on bad ankles. We decide to stop for lunch. The ice pack numbs everything, and we plan our final assault on Long Mountain. The sandwiches taste great, and our state of mind improves. Who needs ankles anyway? It is a beautiful day, and we are out in the woods. Onwards and upwards! There is a great view from the top of Howell Mountain, and our spirits soar.
Down, down, down into Deep Hollow. We pass striped maple trees, rarely seen in these parts. Several streams snake across the bottom of the hollow, some rocky and some with sandy bottoms. We cross much more carefully than before, inching across a fallen red oak. One more major uphill climb to the top of Long Mountain. Wow, what a panorama. The best view ever of Popolopen Torne, probably the coolest peak in the park. There’s Perkins Tower, on top of Bear Mountain. Stockbridge to the South, and a beautiful lake below. For the millionth time, I am grateful to the people who had the vision to preserve this magical landscape.
On down the final slope, our pain forgotten, we talk about the challenges ahead. There is still a lot of Long Path waiting for us. It’s only April, and everything seems possible. Harriman Park did not let us go easily, but we are ready for our next step.
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