Hiking In The Bronx: The Hudson’s Secrets

According to a recent scientific survey involving a dozen of my Facebook friends, when one hears “The Bronx”, one tends to think of (in no particular order) The Yankees, Attractive Puerto Rican females, unpleasant smells and traffic. Outdoorsy stuff like hiking doesn’t really come to mind, but that’s exactly what I did. When the weather gets nicer in the spring, I often like to frolic gaily in the wilderness. I like to take little half-day getaways on the weekends and explore the (to me) unexplored. I’ve found some pretty cool stuff in the past by just aimlessly driving away from civilization in any direction for an hour or so. But since gas prices are nearing five US dollars, I don’t really allow myself to drive aimlessly anymore. Trips must always have a direct destination and a purpose. So I compromised on spontaneity and settled on visiting Wave Hill in The Bronx. It was a nice day so the sun worshipers were out in full force and the line for the parking lot was terribly long. I couldn’t be bothered to wait, and so as any self-respecting New York motorist would do,  I drove on past the entrance. I had already been to Wave Hill a handful of times in the past, so I really wouldn’t be missing much. The ancient winding road that led me away from Wave hill and towards the Hudson river was surrounded by secluded homes and dense vegetation (for New York City anyway). After about a quarter mile, the homes disappeared and there were just trees. It was time for a new expedition!

I found a suitable parking spot near what looked like a rustic trail entrance (A), and began to explore. The very first thing I noticed was how quiet everything was. The wind was barely blowing and I was a good mile from any kind of human inhabitation, so you could really hear a pin drop! A large boulder was placed at the path entrance, presumably to deter vehicles from entering. I walked about 300 feet on the trail uphill and I came upon a large man made structure half buried in the ground and engulfed by tree roots.

Upon closer inspection, I determined that it must be the remains of a swimming pool. But there was no sign of a house, or any kind of dwelling remains anywhere within the vicinity. It’s as if there was once a pool built in the middle of the woods, and after abandonment and years of neglect, erosion and nature had taken its toll. I wondered how old the pool was and who had swam in it. I imagined children splashing and a greasy-haired father smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper beside the pool. Perhaps the mother was bringing out some snacks for the kids? And then I heard a car pass by  in the distance with loud rap music. *Poof* Back to reality.

A dozen or so feet from the swimming pool, I found a large, charismatic tree with some protruding stumps that could only be described as breasts. And that’s not just the man in me equating bulbous forms in nature to bosoms. They really looked like boobies. Every stump even had its very own nipple. After giggling immaturely for a few seconds, I hiked on.

About 100 feet away towards the north, I found a large tree that had been broken and had fallen over at a perfect 90 degree angle onto a slope (B). Its unclear to me what brought the tree down, but like the pool, it also looked to have been dead for quite some time. The majority of the horizontal section had been hollowed out by weather and perhaps insects. However, it was still sturdy enough for a couple of adults to stand on. It would make for a nice make-out bench.

Satisfied with having found everything old and interesting in this section of woods, I exited the path at the same point I had entered and proceeded to walk North on Palisade Avenue. There was a whole other set of woods I wanted to check out on the west side of the road, but most of it was fenced off. I found an old railroad maintenance building (C) about 300 from the boulder with an opening in the fence. Great! I could get down to the water from there. I navigated another narrow trail through thick vegetation until I descended upon the Amtrak railroad line and the Hudson river. (D)

I took a moment to ingest the scenery and then a Train whizzed by from the north, probably heading to Penn Station. I wanted to get to the other side of the tracks and down to the water, but that meant having to actually cross the tracks.

Normally when crossing railroad tracks, I experience a small level of angst. The kind of uneasiness that excites me a bit at the thought of danger. But all 4 pairs of these tracks also had an electrified third rail to power the train, so if I decided to cross, I’d be flirting with death 8 times on my round trip to and from the water 35 feet away. After about a minute of hesitation and nervously looking for oncoming trains, I decided to go for it. I hadn’t paid a Bridge toll, spent gas money and hiked through rough terrain to turn back now. I took large exaggerated steps over the third rails, as if I was stepping over tipped cows. I didn’t even want my jeans to come remotely close to getting zapped.

A half hour later I was safe at the other side. I went down to the water and walked over the algae covered rocks glistening a bright green in the afternoon sun. There were some ducks in the river, but I also encountered an impostor resting on the electrical line steel dunnage. I questioned who had brought him there and what possessed them to do so.

About 700 feet south, I noticed an overpass structure. I thought I’d walk over to it in hopes of using it to return to the other side of the tracks without having to practice Tai Chi over the third rails. As I got closer, I noticed that there was in fact a staircase descending from the overpass onto my side of the tracks, but it went straight into the river. (E) Oh and it didn’t have any steps either.

The whole steel structure was corroded with rust. It obviously hadn’t seen any use in decades, but what was it’s original function? Maybe it lead to a pier, but I didn’t find any evidence of old posts or a deck. Maybe it led passengers straight onto a ship? But the river seemed too shallow to accommodate a vessel that would have a deck at that height without having equal depth below the waterline. Whatever it was, it was old and decrepit, intriguing and photo worthy. After once again carefully negotiating the track crossing, I would be on my way.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Hiking in The Bronx. (or similar semi-urban area that doesn’t require me to spend 30 dollars on gas)