John Michael Swartz

We went multi-modal to Harriman State Park: from Park Slope to the Christopher St PATH station, to Hoboken, the NJT to Sloatsburg.

It's good to know that this way into the park is so much more pleasant than the unpleasantly-steep Willow Grove Rd. However, it is worth noting that if one is planning to bike all the way from NYC to Harriman, it is far more interesting to cleave to the Hudson and take this way in rather than to cut through the suburbs of New Jersey in order to ease up Seven Lakes Dr.

Once past the visitor center, we took a short bit of forest road which gave Michael a small taste of the bushwhacking life. We even came upon some fresh bear scat.

Giving way to some modest pavement, we found ourselves at the entrance to the American Canoe Association HQ, occupying a peninsula at the southern end of Lake Sebago. Michael was suddenly reminded that he might in fact be a member of the ACA and so we decided to explore. We were advised to seek out the camp director who explained that several clubs kept cabins here, including the Sebago Canoe Club of which Michael had recently become a member. They practice their skills in the Jamaica Bay, which, in my estimation, would be quite an intimidating introduction to human-powered boating.

At the SCC cabin, we met Gayle, a widower into contra-dance and bluegrass fiddle. We discovered that she's our neighbor in south Brooklyn. She sang the praises of the cabin, showed us around and explained Michael's privileges there. The boat launch was rather inaccessible due to the low water in the pond owing to the drought conditions this season. I think she described some sort of upstairs-downstairs intrigue where locks are opened and closed in order to move water to more upscale locations. Back in front of the cabin, she scoffed at my digital version of the park map, pulling out her paper version in order to give us some route recommendations. She advised me to go easy on the bushwhacking bikepacking with Michael.

An hour or so later, we left and visited the old Sebago Beach ruins I had photographed several years ago. It seemed to me that newer picnic tables made of a composite material had been moved in and left to decay in place of the wooden ones I had originally photographed. I did find one such wooden table, barely clinging to its form, which had been dragged further back into the duff.

We were able to take smaller roads, paved and unpaved, up toward Lake Kanawauke. On the way, we chatted briefly with an older couple who were very impressed with our athleticism, although they did recommend that we try to enjoy the beautiful day without so much exercise. Later on, when we found a quiet spot to take a dip in an off-season youth campground, we saw them canoe by.

I rarely swim in ponds or lakes. I've noted before how unpleasantly brackish the water is. It is often the case that everything from the dark and brackish depths is creepily caressing and clinging to you. It is not unlike going to The Cock. This experience was no different, but it made for some nice pictures. The water was rather cold but not unreasonably so, as it was an unusually warm day, topping out at 85F.

The photos from this day are rather difficult to work with. The lighting was harsh, the colors an indifferent riot of pre-peak drought-stressed foliage, half-hearted yellowy-browns and greeny-yellows. I believe the darkness of the lake water, the specular reflections, and the vague autumnal colors confused the white balance and exposure meter of my waterproof camera, severely underexposing most shots. But they were still interesting and usable.

My stomach was a bit upset so we headed toward the restrooms at the picnic area toward off of Kanawauke Rd. The whole park had been lousy with obnoxiously loud motor bikers all day, and it was here that they seemed to convene. While I did my business, Michael passively endured the convocation of toxic masculinity. It would be better to visit during the week, when there would presumably fewer of this riff-raff.

We decided to catch the ferry at Haverstraw to Ossining to catch the Metro North back to the city. I'm familiar with this twisty bit of Kanawauke Rd, which is a moderately difficult climb but great fun in the other direction. We crossed Lake Welch with its picturesque little islands and made our way down the aforementioned Gate Hill and Willow Grove road, through Haverstraw to 9W which took us to the ferry landing. I only wish there weren't as much automobile traffic along this route, but it's managable if you're an experienced commuter.

We took a late lunch on some rocks by the Hudson, bagels and sardines, nuts and gummies. The ride itself was fun, very windy up top. I have no idea how quickly such a ferry would be travelling and so I wonder whether the wind was from the speed of the boat or something to do with the river and its valley.

As we approached the other side, we were surprised to learn that Sing-Sing was 1) a real prison and 2) located adjacent to the Ossining landing. Everybody spoke of it excitedly as we approached.

The trip home was restful. The moonrise over the East River was particularly beautiful, and we were not the only ones stopping to photograph it. I recently learned about the harvest moon from a repeat episode of "In Our Time" and it is nice to know that our trip is from the day before it, October 5th, 2025.

Michael had plans and so we separated at Hoyt and Dean.