THE CATSKILLS: LAND OF RIP VAN WINKLE

Washington Irving’s story about Rip Van Winkle was apparently written as a comedy. A lazy farmer of Dutch ancestry, Rip goes for a walk in the forest of the Catskill Mountains to escape his wife’s nagging. High in the mountains he meets up with mysterious little men who introduce themselves as the ghosts of the crew of Heinrich Hudson’s ship. Rip accepts some of the ghostly brew they offer him and promptly lies down under a tree and falls asleep. He awakes twenty years later and his attempts to adjust to the many changes that have occurred in his world as he slept are indeed funny.

Now that we are touring Rip’s home territory, the Catskill Mountains of New York State, we are discovering that there is a tragic aspect to the tale as well. How sad that he missed two decades of exploring the peace and serenity of the mountains and lakes as we did this morning.

The campground where we are staying is just seven miles from Ashokan Reservoir. This lovely lake was formed by damming up a local creek for the purpose of helping to supply water to New York City ninety-three miles away. A ninety-two mile long aqueduct carries the water to the city. The Reservoir has a lovely hiking/biking trail that calls out for visitors. We answered its invitation, and said "Yes."

The trail is closed to vehicular traffic and begins at a small public parking circle. It runs along the top of the dam for perhaps as much as four miles. It is paved and level and well used. In-line skaters, like these, bicyclists and runners glided past us going both ways. 

We walked briskly but didn’t want to go so fast that we missed any of the beautiful scenery around us. The sun was hot and the humidity was high so every so often we needed an excuse to stop and rest. (Click the image to enlarge it;  click BACK to return to the narrative.)

The mid-point of the trail is here where the highway crosses a bridge and through a small building that houses controls for the reservoir. We walked on a little farther, then headed back to our starting point as lunch time approached. Poor Rip Van Winkle! On his somnolent sabbatical, he missed out on twenty years of this beauty.

7/15/2010 - mshr

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