Two New Nearby Trails

(Part of the new trail at Kaaterskill Falls, seen from the viewing platform)

Bill and I planned two days to explore two of our favorite places, neither of which we had visited in quite a while.  We designated one day to walk the new Skywalk, a two-mile trail that crosses the Hudson River.  Our second adventure would be to hike the new trail and stairway alongside Kaaterskill Falls in the Catskills.  We had read about both of these trails and were eager to give them a try.


We began the Skywalk from Olana, 19th-century artist Frederic Church's home, continued across the the Hudson River on the Rip Van Winkle Bridge, ending at Cedar Grove, the home of Thomas Cole, Hudson River School founder and teacher of Frederic Church.

(Olana, home of Frederic Church in the late-1800s)

Although we had been been to Olana off and on over decades, so much had changed.  A grant in recent years enabled needed improvements both inside of the house and out.  And now, instead of one house tour, there are many tours to choose from, each with a different focus.  We chose the downstairs house tour and the upstairs tour, but there were others such as a garden and landscape tour that we might want to check out another time.  Rain came down in buckets on this mid-June day, so indoor tours held more appeal.

(the porch view across to the Catskills)

The rain still came down heavily as we prepared for the walk.  Museum staff advised that we not take the steep dirt path from the house to the bridge in the deluge. Instead, they suggested that we begin from the parking lot at the eastern end of the bridge.  We took their recommendation, parked near the bridge, donned a full set of rain gear, and stepped out.

(the Rip Van Winkle Bridge crosses the Hudson River)

Views of the Hudson River and the Catskill Mountains are this walk's big attraction.  Although rain clouds shrouded the mountains, we could look down on the gray river and into the woods directly below.  We know the area well, and could see the mountain view in our mind's eye. 

(The Hudson and islands from the bridge)

Walking on the historic Rip Van Winkle Bridge, built in the 1930s, had not been encouraged in the past.  Now, as part of the Skywalk, it is notable as the connection between the two artists' houses.  In Cole's and Church's day, a ferry would have taken them back and forth across the river.  The two friends often drew and painted together, sometimes on top of the hill with its river view, where Church eventually built Olana.

(What's a little rain?  Bill is dressed for the day.)

After arriving at the western end of the bridge, I decided to walk the Cedar Grove property just far enough to see that Cole's "new studio" had been built.  Besides its historic accuracy, the new studio houses contemporary art.  I had been dismayed on my previous Cedar Grove visit to see modern art mixed with Cole's furnishings within the house.  The house has now been returned to the style of Cole's mid-19th century era.

(Cedar Grove, Thomas Cole's house in the mid-1800s)

From house to house, the Skywalk is two miles, four round-trip.  The bridge itself is one mile.  It's possible to walk just the bridge, parking at one end or the other.  Based on our experience, we highly recommend the Skywalk and spending time visiting the homes of Frederic Church and Thomas Cole.

(the lowest part of the falls along Route 23A)

We had cloudy but far better weather for our second adventure. 

Kaaterskill Falls drops 260' and can be very dangerous.  Fatalities or serious injuries are not uncommon.  In the mid-1970s, when Bill took me to the falls from college, we could and did walk anywhere, including behind the falls in the amphitheater high above the base.  In addition, at the very top of the falls, we could literally put a hand in water before it tumbled below.  Greater use and an increasing number of deaths demanded that changes be made to safeguard visitors.

(The beginning of the trail rises from Route 23A)

Some changes were made in the late 1980s.  Those changes essentially prohibited people from accessing the highest level of the falls.  Not surprisingly, people continued to take risks. 

Last summer, in 2018, $1.25million in upgrades at the falls included a 200-step stone stairway built to get people safely to each of the three levels of the falls.  Visitors can still take chances and get hurt, but warning signs are everywhere, and, if people stay on the trails or on the immediate rocks, fewer accidents should occur.

(A wooden stairway was our first introduction to the new design)

From the Route 23A parking area, rubbly stones begin the trail.  Just beyond, a wooden stairway is built over what was a dirt scramble when we clawed our way up more than 40 years ago.  And above that, we encountered our first set of stone stairs.  We were totally impressed by the precise construction of this stairway, each stone perfectly placed.

(The first set of stone stairs)

And the view at each level?  Astounding.  The new regulations and construction did not detract in any way from the beauty advertised by the Hudson River School painters in the early 1800s.  We were glad that hikers are again able to see the entire set of waterfalls.

(This series of waterfalls still inspires artists and photographers)

Today, in the "instagram age," estimates are that an average of 1000 visitors come on every summer weekend day to enjoy Kaaterskill Falls.  We saw only about 20 or 30 people on our mid-June day.  But, alas, we did see a group of teenagers hiking in flip-flops with beach towels, intending to swim, and we saw people partway across the amphitheater in a bent-over crouch behind the waterfall, but most people didn't take chances. 

In the close-up picture, you can see two people sitting on the ledge.  I was glad that they appeared not to be continuing to the steeper more-slippery section.

(The upper falls is magnificent)

(A close-up of the other photo shows people behind the falls)

Bill and I continued up above the falls on more stone steps to a level summit path.  We learned that hikers are encouraged to park at the site of the Laurel House on top of the escarpment, rather than at the base on Route 23A as we had.  By parking at the top, hikers avoid the 2/10-mile walk along the road.  They also begin with the highest views and can decide how far down they want to go, rather than starting at the very bottom planning to go the entire distance to the top.

(The upper falls from the new viewing platform)

The rocks at the very top of the falls, which were popular photography locations, are now completely off limits.  Instead, a platform has been built a short distance away.  From there, the view is fabulous.  I definitely didn't miss peering over the top to see below.  Bill and I give this new trail an A+.

(Kaaterskill Clove from the viewing platform)

In the Catskills with Mr. Map-man

Some of my regular readers will remember my post "Catskill Ramblings," from June 2011,when Bill and I attempted to hike the paths of the Hudson River School painters, places we had been to decades before.  That day the fog had been so thick that we could barely see the edge of the rock.  A couple of weeks ago, we decided to make a return trip.

Parking at the trailhead on Schutt Road, near North Lake in Haines Falls, we had a perfect, clear, mid-Spring day. As we signed in at the kiosk, we were confronted by a nice couple who were vacationing in the Catskills for a few days.  They were confused about where they were and where they wanted to be, pulling out directions that they had printed off their computer before they left their Pennsylvania home. Map in hand, Bill did the best he could to point them in the right direction for the hike they hoped to do.

(Bill checks the map in front of the Layman monument)

Even though we had been to this area before, and Bill grew up very near here, he had researched every road and trail before we came and had his map collection with him.  Studying the maps is part of the fun.

We were headed for the famous Escarpment Trail and some of its most picturesque locations.  Our first stop was the Layman monument, built to honor Frank Layman who died in 1900 fighting a forest fire here. Frank could have been one of Bill's family members, Layman was his grandmother's maiden name. When I first met Bill, it seemed like everyone, alive or dead, was related to us in some way.

(one of many views along the Escarpment above Palenville Pass)

Rock cliffs abound along the Escarpment and offer 180 degree views.  No wonder many wealthy resorts were built here such as the Laurel House, Kaaterskill House, and the huge Catskill Mountain House.  Most of them succumbed to fire long ago, but evidence that people enjoyed this area at that time is still here.

We could still read some of the names etched into the rock.  C.W. Morris did a good job of giving his name a permanent place when he came in 1916, and then again in 1917 and 1923.  Was C.W. a young man, who, between 1917 and 1923, went off to France during World War I?  Perhaps, in 1923,  he returned to this overlook with his sweetheart.

(C.W. Morris, 1916-17-23)

As we hiked along the narrow path, passing wild blueberry bushes in bloom, I suddenly smelled spices, and heard a sizzling sound.  In minutes, we arrived at the point where the narrow path opened to the wide ledge of Inspiration Point.  So close to the path that we literally had to step around them, about a dozen Chinese people were crouched on the rock cooking a full course meal!

One man stirred a wok over a flame, quickly tossing meat, the source of the sizzling sound and the smell.  A woman took noodles out of a large container.  Each participant sat on a short collapsible stool with containers of food, plates, glasses, and utensils laid out on a large blanket.  This was one luxurious, albeit highly illegal, picnic. We continued walking along the rock as they delved into their feast.

(A multi-generational family having a feast on the ridge)

Farther along, Bill and I found a spot to sit and eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and apples.  Inspiration Point is large enough for all of us.

(Bill on Inspiration Point)

As we continued on, I couldn't help but compare this area to the Adirondacks. Whereas northern trails consist of black dirt from decayed hemlock and balsam needles, and the rocky paths seem not much different from stream beds, the Catskills have red earth with flat shale rock. Walking on this trail of naturally crushed stone between hardwood trees just coming into leaf, I could imagine Thomas Cole, the founder of the Hudson River School of painting, hiking here with his flute and his sketch pad.

(parts of the Escarpment trail are very inviting)

I got ahead of Bill for a while, as we became mixed in with two couples and three dogs.  One man stepped back to ask Bill, "Do you have a map? We're hoping we can find a trail to the parking area without having to walk all the way to North Lake."  Bill pulled out his map and they discussed options. I heard one of the women ahead of me, say, "Oh yeah, Pete doesn't know where we are, Mr. I-know-everything-about-the-Catskills!  It's good he found that man with the map."  Apparently, Pete's guidance had worn a little thin.

(Eventually, we reached views to the Hudson Valley in the East)

I kept hiking, dodging the dogs, ages 15, 11, and 5.  The 15-year-old kept his head down but trudged on.  At the intersection, posted with a nice array of DEC trail signs, we stopped to wait for Bill and Pete.  "I hope Pete is learning something from Mr. Map-man," the woman said.

When Pete and "Mr. Map-man" arrived, the signs gave them new fodder for map study.  Bill told the others which trail they should take, and then he and I continued on our way.  This group was from New Jersey, and they did not even have internet directions like the Pennsylvania couple we had met earlier in the day.  I was surprised that so many people would hike without maps.

(Mr. Map-man saves the day)

Our final destination before heading back was Boulder Rock, left by long ago glaciers.  Once again the ridge offered views across the valley.  We returned on a different trail making a nice loop of about 6.5 miles total.

(Boulder Rock)

As we neared the parking lot, we saw the Chinese family just ahead, jovial and chatty after their feast. The men carried full-sized backpacks with their kitchen gear and whatever food was left, as well as all of the individual stools they had sat on.  The women carried nothing.  Both men and women appeared to be experienced hikers, equipped with proper clothes, boots, and trekking poles.  At the parking lot, they climbed into a 15-person van and drove off.

Before completely leaving the area, we decided to walk to the top of Kaaterskill Falls.  Kaaterskill Falls is generally seen from its base, a half-mile walk in from Route 23A in Palenville Pass. Here at the top, a short trail leads to its rocky ledge where water drops 260 feet. This is not for the faint of heart; in the course of a summer, it is not unusual to read about someone falling to their death on one of the trail-less areas alongside this cataract.

( Water tumbles over Kaaterskill Falls, with tiny people on the path below)

A group of Asian students offered me a spot on the rock where they were sitting. Bill, a bit leery of heights, stayed back. Not only was it fascinating to watch the water cascade over the rocks, but I loved seeing people far below who were hiking into the base from the road. After I took a couple of pictures, Bill and I walked upstream along the creek and past the foundation of the Laurel House, within sight of the top of the falls.

We ended our afternoon, with a stop at the nearby camp store for a Perry's ice cream cone. At home, Bill perused his maps, comparing them to the book description.  Then Mr. Map-man put the book and maps away.  We probably wouldn't hike in the Catskills again until later in the year, when the tourists left and chilly weather returned.

Catskill Ramblings

If, as existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre believed, life after death happens only when someone remembers the deceased, then my parents-in-law, Bob and Mary Ellen Traver, have been alive these past couple of weeks. Pictured here is the single flower from Mom Traver's peony, a plant that my sister-in-law, Mary Jo, and I dug up and split five years ago when the family home in Prattsville was sold. Mary Jo's plant also offers only one single bloom each Spring.


In mid-May, Mary Jo and I managed to get together for a trip to Thomas Cole's house, Cedar Grove, by luck on the first clear blue-sky day after weeks of torrential rain. In the car, heading south, we chatted about our kids, books, music, work, and events since we had seen each other last. In familiar territory, we had no trouble finding Cedar Grove.



Thomas Cole painted wild Catskill mountain vistas in the early 1800s, and is considered the founder of the Hudson River School of painting, a genre which gave credibility to American Art in the early decades of the United States. Once a farm of hundreds of acres reaching from the hills to the Hudson River, Cedar Grove now consists of only a few acres. Despite being tucked between a synagogue, a busy street, residential homes, and the Rip Van Winkle Bridge, the home and views from the wide porch drew us instantly into Cole's time and art.

A large window inside the house echoed this porch view. How often had Thomas Cole gazed upon the mountains at all times of day and season, studying the light for his next painting? Mary Jo and I were sure we could find inspiration of some kind if our livingrooms and porches faced such a scene.

Eventually Cole moved his work to a studio (below) on the property where he could focus on his work away from the hubbub of an active household. And when he wasn't in the house or studio, he would hike through the forests, playing his flute and carrying a sketch pad and pencils.

In the visitor's center, we were fascinated by an "Art Trail" pamphlet that showed many of the sites painted by Hudson River School painters. The locations were familiar to us. Mary Jo had even taken her parents on a short walk to one of the sites long ago. Over the years, Bill and I had been to almost all of them.

A bend in the Catskill Creek was listed as the Artist point closest to Cedar Grove. We had driven over the bridge past this viewpoint a hundred times, often to visit Mom T. at the nursing home in Catskill.

Mary Jo and I remembered the area as unimpressive, but, Thomas Cole's painting fresh in our minds, we decided to check out the spot anyway. We parked the car at a nondescript abandoned pub and crossed the bridge to see the view better. We were both shocked. Had it always been this beautiful? Why had we not paid more attention to this scene over the years? We both knew without saying it, that visits to an ailing parent had consumed our focus.

We decided to drive the short distance across the Hudson to Olana, also on the Art Trail and home to another Hudson River School painter and student of Thomas Cole, Frederic Church. From Olana's hill-top setting, the Hudson River curved below backed by clear blue mountains. No question, art imitated life for these artists.

On the way home, Mary Jo and I stopped at Stewart's for an ice cream cone. I went for a chocolate variety. Mary Jo ordered butter pecan, Dad Traver's favorite and a favorite of hers as well.

By now, I was pretty hooked on the Art Trail

and decided that Bill and I needed to go back to

some of the locations in the pamphlet that we had hiked before we were married.

The Sunday after Mary Jo and I had made the trip to Cedar Grove, Bill and I headed west into the Catskill Mountains on route 23A. Every stretch of this road brought back memories. Dad T. had driven a privately contracted U.S. Mail route stopping at post offices from Grand Gorge to Saugerties. Narrowly hugging the side of the mountain, the road was often treacherous. Still, its beauty was, and is still, unsurpassed.

I met Bill during our freshman year of college. The following fall, we went to Prattsville for a weekend and chose to accompany Dad T. on his Friday evening drive through Hunter and Tannersville. I was in awe of the fall foliage, the rock-bound narrow road, and rolling farmland. On the way back to Prattsville, we stopped to pick up a pizza for dinner in Tannersville, the closest pizza shop in the Northern Catskills.

By the following spring, again visiting from college, Bill and I fit in our first Catskill hike, a walk to the site of the Catskill Mountain House. I remembered a comfortable path through the woods, and a view looking down on North and South Lakes, with the Hudson far beyond. Not long after, Bill took me to Kaaterskill Falls.

Now, thirty-five years later, I wanted to see these places again, for old-times-sake, but also from the perspective of the Hudson River School painters. Our first short hike this day would be to Kaaterskill Falls. A kiosk at the trailhead showed both the pencil sketch and the final painting that Thomas Cole created from this location.

Today's weather was gray and damp. As we approached the falls, we heard the roar of water running fast from recent heavy rains. Bill and I talked about our trip here long ago when the water came down in a thinner stream and the trail went much higher alongside the falls. Our old hiking book encouraged walking on the narrow ledge that went underneath the falls for a more dramatic experience. At the time this was part of the thrill, but not today--the trail ends at the base with danger signs in bold yellow.

Back at the car, we continued on to the trailheads in the North-South Lake area, pulling into the DEC parking lot just before the state park entrance. Over the years, Bill and I had hiked in the Catskills regularly, but we had never been back to some of our early outings. It seemed amazing that we could return to these same landmarks after so many years and life-experience together. I re-emphasized to him that the Catskill Mountain House site had been our first hike.

Bill studied all the trail signs next to the parking area that listed the lakes and the sites of various hotels, now long gone, and said, "I don't think we hiked to the Catskill Mountain House that first time. I think we hiked to the Kaaterskill House."

Say-what??? "But it was always the Catskill Mountain House. I would have remembered if it was a different but similar word," I blurted out, stunned. I even had photographs with the name written on them.

"Oh well, I might have said Catskill, but, back then, I was into it being Kaaterskill with a 'K.'" Clearly, my teenage charm and beauty had overwhelmed Bill's ability to differentiate details!

He added, "Anyway, you're into the Hudson River School places today, so it doesn't really matter."

The fact was, I could tell right away that we had not hiked the trail to the Catskill Mountain House before, because most of the walk was on paved state park road. We looked at the trail for the Kaaterskill House and that seemed to fit our memories better. Apparently, I was not going to revisit our youth and a destination on the Art Trail at the same time.

"It may even have been the Laurel House," Bill said, now studying our maps. In my innocence, I had trusted this guy?

A heavy layer of fog descended on the mountain as we set off walking the two miles of park road to get to the half-mile trail to the Catskill Mountain House site. One of many huge Victorian hotels offering a view across the mountains, the Mountain House, and others like it, had enticed city dwellers to come by train for fresh air, relaxation, and renewed health. Most of these vacation spots for the wealthy had burned down in the first half of the twentieth century.

Today there would be no views. I could hardly even see Bill on the trail ahead of me. Now and then we stumbled upon a sign indicating that we were still going in the right direction.

When we reached the summit, a few people sat on the rocks having a picnic in the fog. Even though it was not actually raining, water dripped from our hair and eyebrows. We could only imagine the view across the valley.

In fact, we could imagine it well because it was basically the same view we had seen from many other places in the North-South Lake trail system. And who's to say those Hudson River School painters weren't also at those locations recapturing the beauty of the lakes and valley below on canvas?

Eventually, we drove back to Route 23A, again remembering Dad T. and the mail truck. For years he had driven the mid-day route to Saugerties with his Saint Bernard dog, Holly, in the passenger seat. Postmasters at each town along the way greeted them both; and just about lunch time, they hit the McDonald's in Saugerties, each getting a Big Mac.

Today, we went by the old house, now hardly recognizable since the new owners took down the pines, adding on and redesigning its shape. Over the Schoharie Creek and up the hill we climbed to the town cemetery where we found the family stone. Bill and I pulled away a few high grasses; I would be sure to tell Mary Jo that "2010" had been properly etched into the granite.

We took the back road home, over the ridge above the valley and the town of Windham. I had never tired of this ride in all the years we had driven it regularly. Today huge lilac bushes stood in full bloom at every farm house, and blossomed profusely in fields where farm houses must have once stood.

At home, I decided that we should have some butter pecan ice cream. I make it from the Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Cookbook. Before even mixing the cream, the pecans are browned in a stick of real butter. Wouldn't Dad Traver have loved this? I made the mix, chilled it overnight, and then put it all in my ice cream machine the next day. Rich and creamy with sweet butter and nuts.

And yesterday, Mom Traver's peony bloomed.