Walking the Aqueduct Trail

I worked with Marc one Wednesday a couple of weeks back, then Corrie and I went up to Dobbs Ferry for a barbecue on the Hudson across from the train station down the street from where they live. Our friend from SLO-town, Tami, whom we visited in Munich and whom is doing some contract work out here-abouts in Westchester, joined us. The barbecue was nice, the weather nicer. Tami took the train as we were packing up back to Yonkers, and Corrie and I spent the night at Marc and Linda's. Corrie got to wake up a little later than normal, since the commuter train comes directly to Grand Central Station, and Linda was off to work by 6 am. Marc and I had some time, and he offered to take me on a walk of the Aqueduct Trail on that Thursday afternoon.

The trail runs along the top of the actual aqueduct that brings water from the Catskills and farther north, the Adirondacs, down to the bustling City. Along the trail are these possibly-exhaust chimneys, making it easier to find the trail if one loses their bearings.

Eventually we came upon the Lyndhurst Conservatory, a few miles north of Dobbs. Apparently, it had been a grand green-house, with plants from all over the American landscape. Now, it was a white-metal skeleton hanging over its original floor-plan. The photographic plaques give a visitor an idea of what originally lay there, but now the erstwhile beds are overrun with local vegetation and the occasional weed.

We continued on from there, north, and at a point the trail looked disheveled. We continued on past this point for a ways, as the guardrail went from orange-caution plastic fencing to a newly constructed post-and-heavy-wire setup. Eventually there was a large metal gate to our right, or east (since we headed north, and the Hudson flowed down a ravine to the west, our left), and we conversed about what lay beyond this serious fence, or rather, what was being protected from us. This gave us a laugh.

Eventually, the path deteriorated to mostly untenable past a bridge over a small creek. Below the bridge was a large pipe that spanned the creek, emerging from the soil and then back into the soil on the opposite side. I thought it would be a great place for some pictures, so I climbed down onto it, and carefully snapped away.

When I was done, I looked up and noticed Marc talking with a suit, who had been stationed on a second foot-bridge higher than the one we had passed. We were informed that we were trespassing, that the trail wasn't open yet, and that we'd better be on our way, since it was his ass if we got hurt. Later Marc told me that the gentleman had asked Marc if I was with the EPA, as I had on sturdy cargo-shorts and boots, and had been taking pictures of the creek. Again we had a laugh.

On the way back to Dobbs, we passed by a castle that had been built by some megalomaniac in the thirties (I think?), but was now part of an almost thriving tourist business. We took some more pictures and headed back to Marc's.

We saw lots of naturiffic things along the way--deer, hedgehogs, more deer--but my photos don't do them justice. There was a large swooping tree that one could enter through an opening in the canopy, look up at the majesty, and probably take a nap on the flowing trunks and limbs. The house that Corrie and lived in at Palm Street in San Luis could have fit inside...alas, again the pictures didn't come out very good.