[Journal entry for October 4-5, 2009; AT in Harriman Park]

October 4, 2009. At dusk, Dallas drops me off along Seven Lakes Drive in Harriman State Park, at the Hurst Trailhead by Lake Tiorati. The full moon is just rising and the evening is quiet, still and beautiful – and surprisingly warm. I walk down to the lakeshore and sit on a rock outcrop, gazing out over the lake. The moon is reflected twice by the lake, once as an orb in a patch of still water and again as a bright patch in a rippled section. I then walk up the Hurst Trail a half mile or so, navigating by flashlight, to Fingerboard Shelter, which is on the ridge crest. The shelter is in use. Rather than disturb its occupants, I pick out a grassy spot, behind the shelter and nearby and oak stand and set up the Tent-of-Death (so nicknamed by my kids because of its poor cold-weather performance), and go to sleep to the sound of falling acorns. I awake around 1AM. The moon has risen high enough that the whole area is illuminated. I am surprised how well I can see. I take some time-exposure photos. The camera reveals that the moon-lit sky is actually as blue as the day-lit sky, black though it appears to my eyes. I’m surprised, yet should not be. The underlying physics of scattering is the same in both cases, only the intensity of the source is different. I then return to bed.

October 5, 2009. The morning is clear. The sun, at 7:30 AM is still below the level of the trees, and my tent site is in shadow. The Tent-of-Death is a bit damp from dew. I drape it to dry over a rock ledge that is higher up on the hillside and in bright sun. I then make my breakfast of rice and eggs and instant decaf coffee. After packing, I don my backpack and start north on the Appalachian Trail (AT). I have hiked the first segment, up to Arden Valley Road, just a week or so ago, when I visited the rock formation called the Lemon Squeezer. The AT follows the ridgeline of Fingerboard Mountain northward, through open glades floored by rock pavement and decorated with fern and blueberry, and through low, open woods. It continues to follow the ridge crest after crossing the road, passing a small maple swamp, now in fall colors. It then turns east and descends into a valley, crossing a stream via a wooden footbridge. The stream originates in a nearby cattail marsh. I walk over to it and admire the fall colors; the tan of the cattail stems, the reds of blueberry bushes and the oranges of maple trees that grow along its edges. I stop at the bridge to filter two liters of water. My supply has been depleted by breakfast. Shortly afterward, I cross Seven Lakes Drive.

This section of trail is fairly flat and mostly through open woods. I come to William Brien Memorial Shelter. Nobody I know likes this shelter, though I’m not sure why – perhaps because it lacks a view. It’s in a grassy glade, has a big fire ring, and is next to a large rock outcrop. The AT ascends this outcrop and makes its way eastward, gradually ascending Black Mountain. The AT reaches an overlook on the eastern flank of Black Mountain where the view is superb. I can see Silvermine Lake and neighboring hills. Most of the woods are still green, but here and there, and especially around the lake shore, are brilliant fall colors. The top of Black Mountain has broad rock ledges that afford great views, first south to Jackie Jones Mountain and its communication tower, then east to West Mountain, and finally, through openings between trees, north to Bear Mountain and its observation tower. I descend the eastern flank of Black Mountain and cross the busy Palisades Interstate Parkway.

The lowlands between Black and West Mountains are drained by the meandering Beechy Bottom Creek. I cross it by a wooden footbridge and then start my climb of West Mountain. I pass a ranger’s truck, parked on a woods road just before I begin the steep section, which follows a wide gulley up the western flank of the mountain. The trail here is mostly on angular rocks, requiring my full attention. I pass an abandoned pillow – full size and fairly clean - and wonder about the thought processes of its former owner. Finally, after much huffing, I reach a wide, sunny ledge that affords a great view back westward. I have lunch sitting on the rock ledge. Afterward, continuing northward along the ridge crest of West Mountain, I meet a Park Ranger, who I suppose has hiked up from the vehicle parked below. She is a rare find; only the fifth ranger I have ever met walking in Harriman Park, in twenty-five years of my own wanderings there. I say hi, but if she knows any part of the story of the pillow, she is not telling. I also sight a medium-sized bird with an extremely-forked tail that I cannot identify.

The views from the ridgeline are spectacular. Though the trail hugs the western edge of the ridge, I get occasional views of the Hudson River valley, on the east side, from high spots. A final overlook, just before the trail descends back into the woods, affords a great view of Bear Mountain. Unfortunately, the sun is not cooperating at that moment with my photography. Bear Mountain is shadowed beneath an enormous cloud and I cannot afford the time for it to pass. The day is growing late and I’ve a considerable distance yet to cover. The descent down to the valley is steep and is followed by a wooded section of trail that again crosses Seven Lakes Drive.

Shortly after, I begin my ascent of Bear Mountain. One section of the trail parallels a paved road, Perkins Memorial Drive, which is cut just below an enormous, steeply-sloping bare rock ledge. The tan granite rock is stained in interesting patterns of black and white - by minerals leached out of the soil, I guess. The trail the re-enters the woods and winds through a grove of especially large laurel bushes. It exits into the developed section of the summit right below the observation tower. Numerous people, both adults and children, are walking about, enjoying the view. I buy myself a PowerAide at a vending machine and drink it by the overlook, admiring the view of the Hudson River valley, to the south. I then head down. The trail is much eroded here, I guess from being so popular, and I must be very careful.

The trail leads to a wide grassy field by Bear Mountain Lodge. The view of the hill called Anthony’s Nose, on the opposite shore of the Hudson River, is splendid, especially lit up in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun. I walk along the shores of Hessian Lake, eating an ice cream, bought from a vending machine there. Many people are about, including many Orthodox families in traditional garb. I fill up my water bottles from a handy faucet, mostly to save the time required to filter stream water. The AT then crosses Route 9W via a pedestrian tunnel, winds its way past animal cages at the Bear Mountain Zoo, and finally crosses Bear Mountain Bridge. The zoo is closing as I enter; I have no time to look at the animals, but I catch a glance at a coyote and an otter as I zip by. Even so, I guard has to unlock the north gate for me to let me out.

I stand on the pedestrian walkway of the Bear Mountain Bridge, alternately peering into the water of the Hudson River far below and gazing southward to Hook Mountain, far to the south. A tanker is steaming past. It’s now about 4:30 PM. I’ve hiked 22.7 km in 8 hours and 20 minutes. With this hike, I’ve finished this year’s goal of hiking the New York / New Jersey portion of the Appalachian Trail. It’s taken me five separate hikes, totaling 22 days.