Two Days, Five Trails
in
Central Harriman State Park
Taking more vacation time, on Thursday, Oct. 1, I landed at
a parking lot on Rte 106 in Harriman State Park at the trailhead for the
Victory Trail. I loaded up my pack,
camera, cell phone, and trekking poles and started at 1:10 p.m. on a familiar
route that Fr. Jim Mulloy and I have used often.
A quarter mile south brings the hiker to the crossing of the
Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail. I turned
westward, climbing gently on a path I last traveled in 2008. I met a couple coming east, and we greeted
each other. Then the trail started up
Parker Cabin Mountain. I met another
couple coming east, nearing the end of a long loop hike, they said. Near the mountain’s summit, I saw a couple of
guys resting off the trail, and we greeted each other.
When you finally get to the summit of Parker Cabin Mountain
(over 1100 feet), there are fine views to the south and the west.
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| Looking west from Parker Cabin Mt. |
I leaned my poles against a large boulder
while taking some pictures. Suddenly a
woman of mature age popped up from the other side of the boulder, startling me
a little. She said she’d heard me and
wanted to make sure the noise came from something with 2 feet and not 4. That was worth a chuckle. She was snacking on an apple, and I observed
it was a great spot to stop for a snack.
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| Lake Skenonto from Parker Cabin Mt. |
Then a steep descent.
When the trail leveled off (as much as these do in Harriman), I passed
the crossing of the trailhead of the White Cross Trail before coming to the
White Bar Trail, 1.1 miles from my turn onto the RD Trail. I headed south on the White Bar, another
trail I hadn’t been on since 2008.
The White Bar has a few ups and downs but isn’t as strenuous
as the RD was. Near where the White
Cross intersects it, there were power lines down, presumably from Isaias a few
weeks back.
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| Downed power lines near intersection of White Bar and White Cross trails |
The White Bar passed beneath
wires still up. Open woodlands gave way
to thickets near a swamp, but we’ve had not much rain and the trail wasn’t
mucky. After a little eastward bend of
the White Bar, you can see a well-worn unmarked trail going north toward Lake
Skenonto, which I’ve used a few times in the past and planned to use on the
morrow.
Another bend in the trail, southeastward, brings one to an
intersection with the end of the Triangle Trail, coming from Lake Skenonto and
Lake Sebago. From there it was just .2
mile to the Dutch Doctor shelter, my destination for the day, reached at 4:20
p.m., a bit more than 3 hours from car, and about 3.35 miles of moderate
hiking.
The shelter was dirty and cobwebby, as it was when Fr. Jim
stayed there on June 23-24. There was also
a lot of litter both inside and out, unlike our earlier stay. There are spots where water seeps in from the
rear wall or the ceiling, but enuf dry spots for me to put down my pads and
sleeping bag and settle in. Then I took
my water purifier and headed for a nearby brook.
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Late-day sun hits trees in front of Dutch Doctor
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Camped at the brook were 2 chaps—with a fantastic set-up of
tent, large tarp under which a hammock was strung up and, I think, place for
meals, and a good fire going with a log windscreen set up in front of it. They were friendly guys as we exchanged some
conversation before and after I pumped 3 liters of water into my Platypus bags.
Back at the shelter, I put water to boil on my stove and
prayed Evening Prayer. My freeze-dried
meal was chili mac with beef; the “mac” component was definitely al dente,
requiring more time to soak than the package indicated. I washed it down with Crystal Lite and
followed it with some trail mix and dried apricots. All in all, a satisfying dinner even if not
exactly a chef’s delight.
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| Sunset, from Dutch Doctor |
I hung up my bear bag with my remaining food and the trash,
and hunted up firewood. At dusk I laid
and lit the fire in a small pit in front of the lean-to under the
overhang. Dutch Doctor’s main fault is
that it doesn’t have an actual fireplace within. I don’t know whether there was a wind causing
it, or the shelter somehow drew the smoke, but I nearly got smoked out. Eventually the smoke became tolerable (and
maybe I had some drier wood). So, in
front of the fire I read from an issue of America and then Night
Prayer. Clouds were gathering, but some
stars were still visible, and a full moon gave some light outside.
Around 8:45 p.m. I turned in, not exactly comfortable on a
wooden floor, even with 2 pads under me.
At least I was warm in my sleeping bag.
The weather forecast was for rain after midnite, and sure
enuf, rain came; it rained steadily right past dawn. When it was light enuf to see, I went out (at
6:20) to visit Mother Nature and to bring in the bear bag. The bag itself was wet, of course, but the
contents were dry, thanks to their packaging or and a Ziplock bag for my
oatmeal.
I celebrated Mass,
then had oatmeal, nuts, and apricots for
breakfast—and coffee, of course. I
prayed Readings before breakfast and Morning Prayer after. Wearing rain pants, I packed up everything,
put on my rain jacket, put the rain cover over the pack, and off I went in the
rain at 9:19 a.m.
That was a little later than I’d hoped, as I was eager to
get to Tom Jones shelter by noon before the expected Friday crowd of campers
would show up. The unmarked trail toward
Lake Skenonto is labeled as unmaintained, and it lived up to that. There were a lot of big trees down across it,
Isaias’s legacy, but the trail has been well enuf traveled that it wasn’t
difficult, and I covered its mile (approximately) by 10:00, reaching the lake
and a segment of the Triangle Trail.
About .3 mile north, the Victory Trail comes in from the
west and follows the lakeshore north by northeast while the Triangle continues
north to go over Parker Cabin Mountain (where I’d crossed it yesterday). The Victory Trail along the lake climbs, then
dips at the north end, where there’s an easy approach to the water.
Across the lake at a favored camping place
were 2 tents, and at least one person was stirring over there. I spent about 20 minutes pumping a gallon of
water for my 2 Platypus bags and canteen; there’s no water on Tom Jones
Mountain, so I’d have to tote with me whatever I’d need for lunch, supper,
breakfast, and cleaning.
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A smashed utility pole along the Victory Trail near Lake Skenonto
|
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| Swamp full of cattails with pines beyond, along the Victory Trail |
The Victory Trail tended uphill as it ran north from the
lake, especially as it approached the edges of Tom Jones Mountain. One spot was really troublesome, not because
of steepness but because a huge tree lay across the trail as the trail
scrambled up a short rock face. I had to
get on my knees to get under the tree—carrying 40 pounds of backpack—and then
try to stand up in very narrow confines, which I finally managed, and then
continued to step up the trail. In retrospect,
it would have been worthwhile to take the pack off and then muscle it back on.
The Victory Trail, as often as I’ve hiked it, never seemed
quite so long—in part because of the weight of my pack with a gallon of water
in it, and in part because I was in a hurry to get to the shelter. Worse, my glasses kept sliding down my nose,
due to the moisture. Several times I
took them off and put them into my camera case, but anytime the trail got a
little uncertain, I had to put them back on to discern a trail blaze.
The rain had started to ease up, at least. But at last I’d covered the 1.9 miles from
the Triangle crossing to the RD crossing where I’d been yesterday. Coming down the mountain was a couple who
said they’d misread their map and gone the wrong way—east up the mountain
instead of west, as I’d done yesterday.
And off they went on a long loop route that would take them, eventually,
to Lake Skenonto and then up the trail that I’d just taken.
I, on the other hand, started up the trail they’d just been
on mistakenly. The climb up Tom Jones
Mountain on the RD is short, just .2 mile, but very steep (all the worse with a
full pack!). Was I happy when I reached
the top! Shortly, the shelter was in
view, about 100 yards off the trail below the ridge on the east side. It was about noon and the sun was making an
effort to come out (as had been forecast).
No one was there, to my relief. There was, however, an amazing amount of gear
within: at least 4 chairs, a cooler, a
grill, food, cooking implements. I
didn’t know whether someone had left it and gone hiking, or someone had left it
for some future visit.
So I didn’t rush
to settle in, just to get lunch ready (ramen noodles, trail mix, nuts,
apricots, hot tea). The shelter itself
is in a sorry state—lots of leaks, a hole in the roof, and the rest of the
ceiling not looking good. At least there
wasn’t a lot of litter around.
I collected and cut firewood—my Sven saw is great! I relaxed in one of those chairs, reading
(after Daytime Prayer). Then, around
2:00 p.m., hikers began to show up:
first 4 youths from Brooklyn, without any gear, water, or map, “looking
for a place to camp.” We talked a little,
and eventually they departed back up to the ridge. (Later I discovered they had friends coming
up with tents and at least one cooler, and they settled in nicely on the west
side of the ridge.)
A couple showed up with a dog. He (Andrew) and the dog (Winston) were from
Hoboken, she (Ashley) from Norwalk, all friendly. He’d been there often and had a favorite spot
to pitch a tent and get a good fire going.
He was hacking at wood with a hatchet; I offered my saw, but he
declined, liking the exercise he was getting.
A younger couple came up from NYC—the guy (Dee) from the
Bronx and the gal (Emma) from Brooklyn.
He’s a veteran camper, she a rookie.
We talked a while, and I invited them to come to the shelter when I had
the fire going after sunset. They did,
and they brought marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars—s’mores!
Before the fire and the s’mores, of course there was
supper: freeze-dried sweet and sour
chicken and rice, along with the usual Crystal Lite, nuts, trail mix, and
apricots. I said the Rosary, then went
up to the ridge to watch the sun set.
Not spectacular this time.
Quite a few other folks, almost all guys, eventually showed
up and pitched tents or tarps here and there—including one guy on Saturday
morning right on the trail from the shelter back to the RD. “Do you realize you’re right on the trail?”
“I had no idea.” (That’s a very big
no-no in camping etiquette.) Everyone
was mercifully quiet and respectful of social distancing. The only loud sounds were the trains running
off to the west near Rte 17 and some jerks running motorcycles up and down Rte
106 well after dark.
After the s’mores, I helped Dee hang their food bag up with
my bear bag, and they retired to their tent.
I sat by the fire and read from America for a while, then Night
Prayer, and went into my bag around 9:00 p.m.
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| "Blood moon" from Tom Jones shelter |
It was a chilly nite, and eventually I put on additional
clothing to stay warm enuf in my bag. As
usual, I didn’t sleep very well and did a lot of turning over. So at dawn I was ready to rise; it was
6:30. I celebrated Mass and went to
fetch my bear bag.
Happily, there weren’t any bears. One deer at Dutch Doctor—not a threat to
one’s food; and lots of chipmunks around Tom Jones, definitely a threat.
Breakfast, the same as yesterday. Overnite my iPad had expired; it shouldn’t
have, but maybe the cover wasn’t completely shut. So no Divine Office before I packed up. Happily, I’d brought my breviary in the car,
so could attend to that later. And I was
back on the trail at 8:11 a.m. Needless
to say, the descent of Tom Jones was much easier than the ascent had been (and
my pack much lighter)—12 minutes down (carefully) to the Victory Trail, and
then 9 minutes (gently downhill) to the parking lot.
End of another hiking and camping saga!
Photos: https://link.shutterfly.com/6xTnCs1riab
