PBW: Getting High

I took a day off on Monday, and decided to walk where Walt Whitman once did, a hike to the highest point on Long Island near his home. The weather was far drearier than my last Fall photo shoot, but appropriate for the season. It's been years since I last visited, and my girlfriend at the time drove and told me of its existence. I found myself circling many side streets before discovering a long, dead-end road where the pavement ended and the trail began. This is this week's Photo Blog Wednesday:



The only structure was this cabin, and I wasn't going to get any closer to the animal sized hole gnawed through one of the boarded up windows. Instead I trekked into territory reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project.





The trail seemed endless, and despite most of the trees being bare, there was still enough growth to obstruct my view of the rest of the island. The trail beyond the cabin went down, so I doubled back and picked up a different one.




A swing set in the middle of the woods is not the least bit freaky. I moved on.



One beaten sign told me I was in the right place. Other than that and some white swatches of paint on the odd tree, I very well could have inadvertently trespassed into private property. Dogs barked in the distance, and I moved on.





I remembered the rock from my first visit, and knew that it marked the actual peak of Long Island. I had gone in a circle to reach it, and the trail beyond led steeply back in the direction of the road.



A water tower was nestled in the trees nearby, and fenced in despite the thick growth surrounding it.



The view wasn't much better, leaving me one option...



Even as I stood upon the boulder, I realized the odds of slipping on one of those puddles and rendering myself unconscious or worse in the middle of nowhere. At that moment, I thought about my first scar, and somehow continued anyway.



Yes, that extra altitude was worth the risk.



I climbed down and began hiking down the natural steps, turning for one last shot of the boulder at the apex.





After a while, after navigating what must have been a horse trail given deep indentations and other evidence, I got back to the road. I got back to a road, though I wasn't sure if it was the one with my car. I noticed a sign not far away, and headed over to see if it was one I'd driven by on my way in.





It was indeed, and an informative one at that. A street with no houses that ends in the middle of the woods isn't apt to have much traffic on a Monday afternoon, so I walked the center line with impunity.



Beyond some barrels of unknown blue content I spied my vehicle, even as I felt the first few drops of rain. There was nothing left to do with my afternoon other than check out Borat.

I may have to revisit this setting in the Winter when the leaves are completely gone, and I think a lot of the scenery will look amazing under a coat of snow. To be continued...