Hiking Harriman
It was a cold day in May, brisk and frosty, when we hiked to Harriman Park, the second largest park in New York State. The train ride was long yet gentle compared to the ensuing 16 mile hike through rain and spotty sunshine required to get to our final camping ground. Exhausted, yet accomplished, we made camp in an undefined area. As we boiled water from the near by lake, we realized we may have been doing some illegal camping. Not to say we encourage such activity; we are merely observing the possibilities and its rewards.
"Exhausted, yet accomplished, we made camp in an undefined area. As we boiled water from the near by lake, we realized we may have been doing some illegal camping."
So that being said, let’s backtrack a bit. It was about 6am on a Saturday when I threw on my 20 pound hiking pack and headed out of my apartment. Tired and disgruntled, but excited for the adventure that laid ahead, I met my friends David Perkins, gear snob extraordinaire and Sylvia (aka: Yang), the fire starter, at Penn Station, where most great NYC adventures start. We hopped on the Yellow Line on the New Jersey Transit towards the Sloatsburg stop, and began our overnight journey to Harriman Park.
Arriving at the Sloatsburg stop in New York, we disembarked the train and continued our journey into the unknown. Trekking through the rural area of Upstate New York, I noted how it was littered with homes covered in vinyl siding each fixed on a modest plot of land with room to breathe. The cloudy and rainy day reminded me of the Upstate I knew as a child. My hometown now seemed simple, as it consisted of a few houses, small bridges, a mini mart, and a bar/restaurant. Compared to my current residence of Brooklyn, it was both a literal and figurative breath of fresh air.
"The fear of rain hung over our heads while the crisp air filled my lungs."