[Journal Entry for February 25-26, 2009] I had to detour through the town of Tuxedo in order to reach the Ramapo-Dunderberg trailhead, owing to the closure of Route 106 just west of Kanawauke Circle.  A bridge across a stream has been down for a rather long while.  I’ve been told that the delay is due to a dispute between the State Parks Department and the State Highway Department over who should pay for its repair.  It’s pretty silly!  The afternoon was really gorgeous, with a clear sky and a temperature right at freezing.  A little bit of patchy snow is left on the ground. I headed north along the Ramapo-Dunderberg trail, a route that leads steeply upward, onto a long, sparsely vegetated ridge that is part of the Bald Rocks area of Harriman State Park.  The southern terminus of the ridge is one of the many sheer, south-facing glacially plucked cliffs that dot the park.  Big rock walls abound, some mottled with moss and lichens and some with overhangs and shallow caves.  The walk along the ridge crest is just wonderful.  The rock pavement is smooth, and the path winds betweens islands of bushy vegetation and glacial boulders.  Some of the boulders are erratic - sandstones and quartzite set onto the gneiss bedrock. The area seems to have burned recently, for I encountered occasional sentinels of charred pine trees (some surrounded by healthy samplings). The view to rolling hills to the southern and west is unobstructed.  You can see as far as ten miles in some directions.  The trail passes two small ponds, set between bedrock outcrops.  The presence of water on top of a high ridge always amazes me; I would have thought that it would seep out down some crack.  Yet these little ponds are quite common in the park.  The ridge is broken by one small, wooded valley.  One ascends what might be called a natural staircase on the north side.  I fondly remember meeting a way-overloaded boy scout in this spot many years ago.  His bulging pack was clanking noisily from pots, frying pans and a kettle that were loosely strapped to it exterior. The ridge north of the valley has many elongated patches of bare bedrock whose surface is corrugated from differential erosion, with what appears to be quartz veins standing up an inch or so above the more-easily eroded gneiss.  The Bald Rock shelter is north of this area, in a second patch of woods.  It is unique among the Harriman park shelters for being constructed from enormous slabs of gneiss, each six feet high and three feet wide, as contrasted to the smaller fitted-stone of most of the other shelters.  Two men and a dog were occupying it, and had erected a tent within it.  I camped a little north of the shelter at the same fire-ring I have used on several other occasions.  The ground around it is grassy and flat – good for sleeping, and the area commands a nice view of the eastern horizon.  I took of my pack and spent an hour or so walking about, collecting fire wood.  I was content to gather a pile of dead fallen pine branches, most no more than an inch or so in diameter.  While I wanted a bonfire, I wanted it to burn down quickly.  I have no need for one when I’m asleep, and its flames pose a fire hazard if unattended.  I encountered a herd of whitetail deer on my outing.  I then began to cook my dinner on the little MSR stove that I had brought – macaroni and cheese with tuna, chicken noodle soup and tea.  The stove seemed rather hard to start.  Unfortunately, I spilled most of the soup when I tried to pick up the pot, whose handle had become scorching hot.  After eating, I walked up to a bare part of the ridge crest, drinking my tea and watching the sunset.  Clouds were beginning to move in from the west (as indeed had been predicted), making colorful bands on the western horizon.  Venus shone prominently, fairly high in the western sky. After it was fully dark, I returned to my camp and lighted my bonfire.  John from Paramus, one of the guys staying in the shelter, wandered by and he and I chatted for a while.  He is an avid hiker and angler, and often fishes for striped bass off of Piermont Pier, which is just a mile or so from my house.  He also mentioned to me that a comet was said to be visible, but that he had searched for it in the sky in vain. Afterward, I unrolled my sleeping bag, put it on a tarp laid over the grass, and slept.  The night grew cloudier, though once I awoke to stars, so the clouds must have been in bands. One of the clear bands was aligned with the eastern horizon, making the dawn rather colorful and the sunrise visible.  I arose and cooked breakfast. The temperature was 22 degrees Fahrenheit. Now, in the morning light, I was able to see that a critical piece had become loose and fallen off the stove.  It functioned flawlessly once I replaced it.  I ate oatmeal, scrambled eggs and tea.  I then packed up and headed out.  I encountered a very large sandstone erratic boulder, but concentrating on the geology, I managed to miss a turn in the trail and wound up circling around almost to my starting point on a windy side trail.  Once back on track, I found my way back without incident.  A little snow had begun to fall, but none had accumulated in the interval before I reached my car.  About fifteen hours, overall.