[Journal entry for January 31, 2019; Black Rock Forest, Cornwall New York] The morning is sunny and very cold. My car’s thermometer reads Minus Three Fahrenheit as I leave my home in Tappan New York at 8AM and drops a little as I drive north to Cornwall New York. I am surprised at the amount of snow in the Highlands, for the ground in Tappan is bare. I stop at the pull-out along Route 9W by Storm King State Park. Snow is clinging to rocks and trees on the big cliff of Butter Hill. I continue on and park at the hiker’s lot on Reservoir Road. The car thermometer now reads Minus Five.

The new pedestrian path that was being built below Reservoir Road is now complete. I am the first person to walk it since last night’s snowfall, which has left four to six inches of powder on the ground. The path is set below the road and is more shaded. Though I had no thermometer, I judged that the temperature along the path was even colder than the parking lot, for my hands were getting cold, even though I was wearing thick gauntlet–style ski gloves. I kept them in my coat pocket, except when operating the camera. Except for my hands, I was adequately warm. I was wearing two fleece sweaters on top of a thermal undershirt (in addition to the coat), heavy pants over long johns and a fleece balaclava.

I crossed Mailey’s Mill Brook via the footbridge and walked the Reservoir Trail (blazed in blue) long the brook. The snow has coated the rocks in the brook, making them look like eggs, and clings to the bushes, twigs and the trunks of trees, making them wider and more visible. Ice must have fallen before the snow, for some twigs glistened in the sun. I cross the brook again via the Stillman Trail (blazed in yellow), returned to Reservoir Road and take it to the dam on Upper Reservoir. The surface of the reservoir is a featureless white sheet and the hills around it are dusted in white. I then take White Oak Road to Aleck Meadow Reservoir. Its surface, like that of Upper Reservoir is soft white; pretty without being particularly interesting. In contrast, the snow-covered bushes and conifers along its shore are complexly beautiful.

I take the Stillman Trail over to White Oak Road. The Sphagnum Pond outflow stream crosses the road near the trail intersection. I poke around it pools for a few minutes. Needle-like ice crystals have grown on the ice that coats the pools. I follow White Oak Road as it parallels the brook, making a few short detours down to pools along it course, and to wetlands on tributary streams that feed it. I connect with Continental Road as I pass the big White Oak tree, and follow it to the spur trail that offers a view of Sphagnum Swamp, a broad wetland along the Sphagnum Pond outflow stream. I judge that the weather has not been cold enough to allow me to walk out into the swamp, especially since the snow is now hiding whatever imperfections are underneath. But by walking on hummocks of grass, I am able to venture a few yards past the end of the trail, to a small beaver lodge at the edge of the open area. I then walk Sutherland Road, which parallels the edge of the swamp. I take one detour down to the edge of the swamp. This is something that I have tried to do in summer, but was thwarted by the tangle of bushes along its shore. Today, with the vegetation clear of leaves, I can see paths leading through the branches. Unfortunately, I do not repeat my success by the beaver lodge, and get my feet wet when I slip off a grass hummock. Not the smartest thing to do when the air temperature is about Ten Fahrenheit. I decide to make for the Stone House, where (at the very least) I can dry out my socks.

I walk the Sphagnum Pond dam to the White Oak Trail (blazed in white). I can’t resist a quick detour down to the Phil Faurot Birding Platform, a short puncheon that extends out into Sphagnum Swamp, on the opposite side from Sutherland Road. I sight no birds, but even in winter the view of the marsh vegetation is interesting. I then rejoin the trail and take it through spectacularly beautiful woods – snow coating the ground and every bush – back to Continental Road and the Stone House.

The Stone House is a two story hiker’s hostile, about the size of a small house and made entirely of beige-colored stone. It was unlocked and with a welcome sign, so I entered and went upstairs to one of the bunk rooms. There I took off my shores and rung a surprising amount of water out my socks. They were woolen, so I judged that they would still have some insulating quality, even though some residual dampness remained. I considered lighting a fire in the hearth and drying them out completely, but decided against such an effort, because of the time. The dorm room was dry and comfortable but cold, for the house is unheated except for the hearth. After a while, I went outside and sat behind the woodshed, with a pile of firewood as a backstop, and soaked up some of the sun’s rays. I then walked the little path called Walter’s Way down to the shore of Arthur’s Pond and admired its calm, snow-covered surface and the big rocky cliffs on the far side.

I then walked to the Arthur’s Pond dam, crossed the outflow stream beneath it, and rejoined the White Oak Trail. The trail took me through more marvelous snow-covered woods (and down a steep snow-covered rock ledge that was pretty tricky) back to White Oak Road. I walked back to the Stillman Trail and took it towards Aleck Meadow Reservoir. Unlike my summer hikes along the path, today I could see a way through the woods to a little terrace along its shore. I made a quick detour down to the terrace, which commands a terrific view of Honey Hill, on the other side of the water. I then made my way back to the Aleck Meadow Reservoir dam. Its spillway, which is a series of concrete steps, was encrusted with ice and was faintly steaming.

I took the Stillman Trail back to Reservoir Road and the pedestrian path back to my car. The early afternoon sun was lighting up the path and it was not nearly as cold as it had been in the morning. Mine were still the only footprints in the show. The car thermometer read Thirteen Fahrenheit as I drove off. My feet, damp though they were, were not at all cold. Nevertheless, I cranked up the car’s heat, to see if I could get them dried off.

About four hours.