Camp Hero, Part 3

This is the final installment in the Camp Hero trilogy -The Beachhead.

Part 1-The Cliffs

Part 2 -The Woods.

On our way down to the beach, we passed these hillsides. I noticed that the soil was eroding rapidly around the base of the trees -they look the way kids drawings do, cylinders meet soil.

Turns out, these hills are the batteries. This is Battery 113. This entry is large enough for a truck to drive into. Check out the writing on the wall.

Its says "Closed To Public." Ha! No kidding. Do not enter? It's solid concrete. Would be cool if you could go inside though. On the opposite side, holes and filled holes.

This is where the gun would have been.

The lighthouse from the bluff. We are headed for the light patch just below the light.

The thicket. I have memories of playing in these as a kid. It is hot in there. Despite the 60 degree temps, it felt more like 90 on the thicket trail -no cool breezes make it in. The trail is a hardpack mixture of clay and white sand and follows the Paumanok Path.

The rocky shore.

A gradation of stones, sized by the action of the waves.

Pebbles.

Lichen on granite.

Mollusk.

Crab. Dead.

Approaching the bluff, it is covered in salt and barren of plants. The beach runs up to its base.

Up close I see these varying soil horizons. Sand and rock, clay, clay mixtures.

I smeared the clay to reveal its distinctive character.

In another area, sandy loam with aggregate underneath, above a reddish hard crust.

The sandy loam swirls around the clay, showing the forces that deposited these layers.

The groundwater springs from the cliff side, eroding the sandy layers above and beneath the layers of clay.

Recent fall.

Contemplation.

Camp Hero, Part 2

As a kid and into adulthood, my family or I would often make the pilgrimage to Montauk, way past the hoity absurdity of the *hamptons. We would land at Hither Hills State Park, get there early for the spot on the top of the bluff. My grandfather used to cook pasta on the grill, and make perk coffee in the evening. We'd stay till dark, sometimes after, then make the long drive home.

Sometimes we'd hit the lighthouse. In between was a few miles of beach front condos, a small town serving the tourist, and then woodlands, dense woodlands all the way to the light. This was drive through area, my family not being much for hiking, on the way to and from Montauk Point. As it happens, then, I never knew much about it other than it was shaped by the sea around it and the glaciers before it. Not until Camp Hero, did I begin to see how it is different from the Long Island I know, or even Hither Hills just a couple of miles west.

On our way to the central parking lot, where we were to begin our hike, I noticed these peculiar wooden planks apparently shoring up the stream sides. After the first one, I saw them all over the place. My first thought was, how long will this work? My second thought was, I can't believe there are so many streams here.

After all, I grew up on dry, sandy Long Island. Now there are pockets of wet areas, kettles and swamps or streams as around Nissequogue or Peconic. But this seemed wholly different, it was elevated quite a bit above sea level and the streams seemed to cris-cross the landscape. We had just had record rains, so maybe we're seeing water where typically it may have only been sporadic. But then, these old planks told a different story, and so did all the areas with skunk cabbage. It was only later on the beach when I would fully understand the hydrology of this area.

It was unusual to see plane trees, city trees, until I reminded myself that this is an utterly human landscape, a military post. Along the streets, and some trails, plantings.

I was rather enthralled with the silver coloration of many of the trees. Was it the effect of the salty sea, was it the species, or lichen?

Small tree in silver.

This, of course, is tick country. I found this old sign amusing -its pre-deer tick, click on it to read. My brother is hyper tick worried, so going at winter's end was his idea of tick free. Of course, that's only partly true. When we were kids we bushwacked through the thicket only picking up a tick or two in ten years. Now it's as if there's an army.

There are many patches of greenbrier, dense and impassable.

From the central parking location, near the radar, we headed out. First on a paved road, Col. John Dunn Rd., then making a right on Old Montauk Highway, and finally turning onto the trail portion of the Paumanok Path. We wanted to make a loop, landing back near the radar at trail's end.

We were on the white marked trail, which I remember well from the mushroom maze. It's also known as the Paumanok Path, which terminates at the sea in front of the Montauk lighthouse.

I saw three forest communities on the woodland hike and I was amazed by the diversity on such a small parcel of land. All of these forest communities are somewhat rare, given their dependence on a very specific set of conditions. The higher elevation of this area protects these communities from the salt spray, which can limit species and canopy heights.

The first was Coastal Oak-Holly, dominated by oaks, but also including tall, mature holly trees.

Without the canopy of leaves, its easy to see the full holly. It's a beautiful tree that I think is rarely used well in home landscapes. Always planted like a shrub, too close to the house.

The bark is smooth, pleasantly colored, with nice eyes.

Of course, its leaves are sharp, which discourage deer browsing when mature, although the word is that the abundant deer are taking these out while still young.

We moved into an area with a stream, crossing over a couple of foot bridges.

Skunk cabbage was making an appearance.

This one with a moss belt.

Streams with mini waterfalls are just a bit uphill. I would have loved to play around this as a kid and spent the most time here, now.

The water was brown with tannin and its bed was like beach sand.

We soon found ourselves in a Coastal Oak-Laurel forest, magnificently illustrated by this laurel-oak bond.

The laurel bark is quite attractive, reminding me of cedar or yew trees.

This laurel understory reminded me of the Oak Laurel forest at Weir Farm, but also of the laurel woods on the north shore of Long Island.

Moss and laurel.

You will notice a few glacial erratics lying around, this being a morainic landscape.

But this area, after a little investigation, turned out to be an erratic dump -brought in by trucks from the military post, not the glacier.

The changeover from Coastal Oak Laurel to Coastal Oak-Beech was dramatic as we headed north on the Paumanok Path. The darkness of the evergreen laurels on one side of an imaginary line contrasted strongly with the brilliant silvery bark of the beech trees on the other. The beech trees grow on the north facing slopes, possibly the reason for the dramatic changeover.

Beech trees are wonderful trees. Great bark, excellent summer canopy, ghostly leaves through winter clinging to its branches. Just don't plant one near your sidewalk.

You can always tell a beech tree by its network of surface roots.

In the beech forest I discovered the convergence of two streams -not something I've seen much of on Long Island. At the convergence, the stream flows northerly.

Just south, I see the terminal point of one of the erosion control contraptions.

One hundred feet to the east is the roadway. We exit, walking toward the radar. At the gate, we get onto the bridal trail, a horse path, every now and then leaping over mucky zones.

Camp Hero Part 3: The Beach Head...

Camp Hero, Part 1

During the heat streak of three weekends ago, my brother, wife, and I went out to Montauk Point to hike Camp Hero, a relatively new parkland comprised of woodlands, ocean front, and a derelict military station. I have so many photos from my experience, that it is hard to edit it down to something readable -so I chose to break this urban hiker report up into three parts.

The weather was around 70 degrees even though it was only the first day of spring. The week prior it had rained record levels. This would affect our experience, because there was so much water in what I have always experienced as a generally dry locale. Of course, I have always visited Montauk in the dry summer months and this was, practically speaking, still winter.

There were some mighty oaks in the woods.

The defunct radar station. The only one of its kind remaining.

The cliffs and the ocean.

The maps: click on them for true size.

Map of the larger area; Camp Hero towards the lower right.

Camp Hero map.

Part 1: The Cliffs

We began from one of the several parking lots -this one at the cliffs, straight shot from the maine entrance. Later on, we drove deeper in to another parking lot for our hike.

One of the first things you notice are these signs. I think they are a bit old, and should be moved further from the cliff's edge. Surprisingly, there are no snow fences or other easy delineations along the edge.

My brother has a look, although at any moment the earth could give away.

The wind, waves, and ground water are having their way with the earth.

Looking southwest, along the shore.

Looking Northeast -in the distance is Block Island, with a bit of brown haze.

The hoodoos of Camp Hero.

The eroded soil can be seen here, coloring the water.

The Montauk Point Lighthouse, seen from Camp Hero.

Camp Hero Part 2: The Woods...

Mushroom Maze

If you have the time, read on. This is my largest post ever, with 64 photos.

My brother had lured me to a new county park, called Manorville Hills (sounds like a subdivision and probably was eyed as one, once). It is part of a 6000 acre preserve of NY state lands and Suffolk County park lands in the Pine Barrens region of Long Island. The sign above says it all. This is probably one's best spot on Long Island to get away from 'it all.' A wilderness zone, the Pine Barrens, our glacial landscape, the maze. The air was crisp on Sunday morning, scented with the autumnal decay I tend to associate with upstate NY, but there it was making us feel alive.

I had recently purchased the Long Island Greenbelt Trail Conference's map set. Thinking, of course, that this is all I needed to make the magic happen. My brother wanted to begin at the county park lot, the one with the empty sign. There were no markings, no signs, no trail blazes. We opted to start on a road, one which we could reasonably locate on our map. The road we took was called Hot Water Rd. Not sure if it was that anyone traveling it would be getting into hot water or that nearby Brookhaven National Lab was making some hot water. Either way, I began wishing the LIGTC maps were made of Tyvek, like the well-made NYNJTC trail maps. After the day's folding and unfolding, it began to fall apart.

There are a lot of roads in the Pine Barrens. In this landscape, roads, paths, footprints die hard. Many are easily over 100 years old. One of the first thing anyone unfamiliar with the area will notice is that your path, road, or trail is, um, well below the natural grade. This image is the side of Hot Water Rd, a few hundred yards from the shot just before it. You can also see that the road is 'sunken in' in that shot.

This trail, er, road, er, canyon is a good example of how easily this region is damaged by human activity-caused erosion. Our hiking did it no favors, but the ATVs, dirtbikes, and trucks have really done most harm.

The pine barrens are, well, barren, for a few reasons. People had difficulty farming the sand that lies just beneath the extremely thin topsoil. It was far enough from NYC to avoid major development pressures until the last decades of the 20th century. Preservation and open space movements had begun in earnest in the late 70s and by the generally well-off 90's, it became politcally sound to do so by both Republicans and Democrats. And, it appears, that Long Islander's interest in hiking and mountain biking the barrens had grown along with that movement. So what was once our version of a swamp -a useless dumping ground, became an ecological niche to be explored by all.

There are some farms to the north, south and east of the glacial moraine's kame and kettle landscape. In fact, Hot Water Road passes this farm and compost pile. But here is where things started to get tricky. Our map had indicated a number of roads and paths along Hot Water. But by our count, we had passed at least twice as many as were indicated on the map. We had no clue how far we had come, if at least understanding where we were relative to the 6000 acres: south side, near the private property north of County Road 51 also known as 'the farm.'

I was in charge of direction, map reading, and getting us out of here in one piece before sundown. The craziest hike I had ever done was in Hell's Canyon, Oregon -a three day, lousy hiking partner, map-less, compass-less, run-out-of-water, snow-on-top, desert-on-bottom, excursion over 4000 feet of elevation when I was 25. Can I say with comfort we are not getting lost 5 miles south of the Long Island Expressway?

Our trail conference map offered only one major color-blazed trail in the region, the Paumanok Path - a white blaze. I didn't want to double back for the return trip, so we devised a route from Hot Water Road to the PP. We were looking for a blue-blazed trail, marked on the map, that linked with the white-blazed PP. This we would take back west toward the parking area, with only a couple of miles off of a color-blazed trail to the car. I forgot my compass, but being near equinox, it was easy to keep track of our direction relative to the position of the sun.

Hot Water Road was supposed to turn sharp, NNE, at the mapped turn a foot path extended past a place called 'Bald Hill' -but this did not happen. Hot Water seemed to have been freshly excavated and extended where there was once only a foot path. Finally, I spotted a blue blaze! We turned northward. There were so many trails, foot paths, and roads connecting to this blue-marked trail that were not on our map, we really had little use for it. There were also blue-blazes all over the place, turning left and right, some on the bottom of trees, some with white. If it were a cloudy day, without compass, it surely would have been a maze. It's not exciting to everyone to use your sense of direction to compensate for maps, but I enjoyed the opportunity to put myself to the test.

We finally linked with a white blaze, the Paumanok Path. With it to follow, things were much easier. It was still hard to figure out where we were on the map or how far we had walked, but I was getting better at estimating distances. The trail is sandy, but easy to walk. Only on some hills did the sand bog us down.

The landscape of the barrens is not the familiar wilderness. It offers no promontories, no bodies of water, no vistas or streams, no moments of grandeur or big sky, nor any obvious landmarks. Hills climb to 300 feet, but once atop you cannot see much through the leaves. Its understory and canopy seem unchanged for the length of it. For those who would describe it as boring, I simply offer that you are not looking close enough. The true beauty of the barrens is in the details, the moments.

Its middle autumn, the leaves are still on the trees, the understory dappled with low, diffuse light. The canopy of oaks mingle with occasional pitch pines, most not very tall so that it is never very dark in the woods. The evenness of light in union with the glacial hills, kames and kettles, flattens distance. You feel you are within, as in a body of water. Each rise gives expectation of a vista, but only offers a new bottom land to descend into.

The trail cuts through heath -mainly ericaceous plants. In this woods there is canopy and low understory -nothing between. Occasionally, noticeably, in small clusters, the heath grew three times as tall as it ordinarily had and was still bright green with no obvious answer why.

Pitch Pine stand.

Mossy bottom land.


Sassafras, roadside.


More moss.


Small glacial erratic.


Large.

The road we ate lunch on. Ticks are an issue when hiking here. On a sandy road, it should be of no concern, but the trails are often brushy footpaths. A quick leg check every 15 minutes is my solution and has become my habit after my experience in the Connecticut woods. We wore no repellent. I had shorts and found no ticks after 7 hours in the woods. My brother, on the other hand, had light-colored pants and we found two ticks crawling up on a particular stretch (grassy road) late in the day. The ticks were black and I feel comfortable IDing them as male black-legged ticks. We both had a spell with a swarm of very small mites on the front of our shoes/pants' ankles. I tried to see how many legs they had, but then I recalled stories of pant legs brushing larval tick nests and them having six legs and boom, destroy all monsters! Unlike hard adult ticks, these squished easily.

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Now, without much wordy interruption, the mushrooms of Hot Water Road, the Blue Trail, and the Paumanok Path, autumn 2009. Please click for a double-size image, and leave your ID tips.

I found a lot of Indian Pipe.




Closeup -Indian Pipe.

To my delight, the relative of Indian Pipe I saw at Weir Preserve: Pinesap, Monotropa hypopithys. Its red color is outstanding. Of course, neither or these are mushrooms, but they don't photosynthesize -so I put them here.

Closeup.

This turned into those below (looks like not-fully popped corn).

Rotting shrooms.

And at the end of our day, heading for the car, some asters...

I saw about five individual feathers, hawk I think, throughout our 12-mile hike. This one I took.

Nissequogue River

When you travel the Nissequogue River by canoe or kayak, you do it by the tide. The river is tidal, with fresh water springs feeding it along its banks. When the tide is slack or about to ebb, that's the time to get into the water at the Smithtown Bull boat launch -technically a midpoint, but for canoeing purposes, the head of the river.

One of the first things I noticed, and you will too in July/August, is the abundant brilliant red flowers along the fresh water. I haven't been on the river before, so I've never noticed them. We couldn't take out eyes off of them.

Cardinal flower, Lobelia cardinalis. I would have taken close-ups, but it was quite difficult to steady the canoe while messing with my camera and the tide pulling us down stream.

Our high tide was around 8:30 am, putting us in with a low sun and cooling shadows along the river.

The river is about 5.5 miles long from the launch to the mouth.

It opens up about 1/3 of the way. Its by no means a secluded river, being surrounded by old and new homes along its banks in spots. Local and state agencies are actively trying to manage the watershed.

In 1999 the Nissequogue State Park was created, adding acreage from the former Kings Park Psychiatric Center (which attracts the paranormal types). You can see the infamous Building 93 and power plant stack towering in the back of this photo.

Finally, we reach the mouth of the river which empties into the Long Island Sound. My brother is taking in the lovely spot.

Upland at the mouth.


The shoreline is both rocky and sandy.

Canoeing the Nissequogue takes only about 2.5 hours. Less if you're a speed demon. After your trip, a van will take you back to the headwaters. If you you came via car, plan to use the rest of your day exploring Caleb Smith State Park or Sunken Meadow State Park. You could also hike part of the LI Greenbelt Trail, something I plan to do this Autumn.

For those coming by train, the Long Island Railroad has a Smithtown station, less than a mile to the headwaters launch.

The canoe and kayak rental business lists tide times for the coming months. Fifty bucks rented the canoe and equipment or you can bring your own.

Fort Tilden

One half of the restroom/concession pavillion.

The old handball courts.

Derelict building.

The long concrete walkway.


The ocean viewed from the concrete walkway.

The biggest patches of poison ivy I've ever seen.

A closeup. Notice the berries -birds love them.

There were small, gray leaved trees behind the first row of dunes. Their leaves had a plastic-like film on them that must protect the leaves from salt spray and dehydration.

Yucca.

If you click on the image, you can read the sign -"Do Not Enter Bunkers."

Blooming greenish-white, Tall Wormwood, Artemisia campestris, is native to sandy soils and sunny sites across a large swath of the U.S. Apparently the pollen is a severe allergen.

The rugosa or as we used to call them, beach rose.

These yellow, ray-type flowers were all over.


The specimen.

A closeup of the yellow flower.

Pink and white flower with glaucus, lanceolate leaves and purplish stems. Marie (66squarefeet) IDed this as Soapwort.

Milkweed seed pods.

These 6-legged, red and brown bugs on a milkweed seed pod.


Oyster shell on a algae covered boulder.

Of course, the ocean.

Meet Me in Muttontown

I came to the Muttontown Preserve in the fourth grade. Now that I think of the many nature-oriented trips we took that year, I am aware of the way a teacher can influence a young mind. I thought I might remember these trails, but it was hard to say whether I really did or not. It was familiar, but most of Long Island is to me by now.

Muttontown Preserve is a collection of three Nassau County old Gold Coast estates at the junction of two of Long Island's terminal moraines -let's say it's where geology meets extraordinary wealth. Much of Long Island's northern tier was comprised of these estates from the turn of the 19th century through the Great Depression. The wealth and giant estates of this period helped preserve some of Long Island's most beautiful woodlands from the development of the postwar period. Yet, many have fallen into disrepair and were demolished, many were incorporated into parks, some are still privately held. Of those open to the public, a few examples: the Nassau County Museum of Art on the old Frick property, The Vanderbilt Museum on the old Vanderbilt estate, Old Westbury Gardens at the old Phipps estate, or Caumsett State Park at the old Marshall Field III estate, or Sands Point Preserve at the old Guggenheim estate.

If you go for a hike at Muttontown Preserve and want to make a day of the trip, stop by Teddy Roosevelt's old place at Sagamore Hill and/or the Planting Fields Arboretum, both just down the road a bit. Both old estates and both worth a visit.

The map for the Muttontown Preserve. Click on it for full size. From my experience, the trail map is generally accurate depiction of all the trails and foot paths, with some exceptions near the ruins. The paths in the preserve are well-worn or maintained, but poorly marked. As of this post date, the numbered trails mean nothing when you are out on the trail. I traveled the 2 to the 6 to the 7 to the ruins, then the 5 to the 6 back to the 2. I really wanted to cross to the 4 from the 5 on my return, but I couldn't figure out how to do it.

An example of the old, meaningless trail marking system, and the new, but unfinished one.

From the preserve "house," I took this trail. It was cool and pleasing here, even though it was quite a warm morning.

This has been a wet summer, so the preserve is wetter than usual. Some trails were puddled like this one. Wear sneakers or boots, not open shoes like I did, and you'll be much happier.

Some trails had a lot of poison ivy to the side, but some had it growing underfoot -where the path was mowed. I was careful, despite my open shoes, and I didn't get any rash.

The trails were often wide and inviting, with a romantic glow cast onto its verdure.


In the woods, this berry. The last time I saw it, I didn't forage.


Wineberry, Rubus Phoenicolasius. This time I ate a lot -tart but good.

Here with a late blooming Rhododendron.


Eventually I came upon this concrete wall. There was no way in.

Near the corner of the wall I sustained multiple mosquito bites trying to get a photo of this butterfly.

Although not reminded by the big wall, I was somehow reminded by the old asphalt driveway that I was now traveling through a built landscape.

The woods began to change, things became a bit eerie.


There, what's that in the distance?


The makings of a 20th century ruin, complete with fallen timber.


It's the estate ruins of King Zog of Albania. What a title.

This is the the staircase in the lower right of the B&W photo.


Haunted?

The crypt begins to set the stage for the ritual teenage drama that I easily imagine played itself out here over the years -especially in the 70s and early 80s.

And the proof.

The plants (jewelweed?) growing on the lintel is a nice, ruinous touch.


Have you noticed all the English ivy?


Let's get out of here...

Ahh, sunshine, a field. Whew, glad to be out of the woods. This is a typical old field on Long Island. Lot's of goldenrod, not quite in bloom, but also mugwort, poison ivy, asters, some thistle, some milkweed, and some sumac. In season, lots of chirping crickets.

One goldenrod ready to go.

Sumac berries.

I had a ton of photos from this trip and had to restrain myself from adding them all -especially of the King Zog ruins. There was one spot in the woods that smelled so good, I can't quite describe it, but it caught me off guard. I stood there and inhaled, inhaled, inhaled.

Hiking Avalon

On Long Island's north shore lies a landscape called Avalon Park and Preserve. Its part designed landscape using many native plants, part preserve of native woodlands, and part cultivated fields of native flowering plants. This is the approach from Mill Pond in Stony Brook.

The woodwork is over the top for a preserve. All the decking, furniture, and gate is oiled. You can see how tightly the decking is cut around obstacles like trees.

It's a grand entrance that to a sensitive person might seem to undermine the preserve's mission. The slope is cut into to provide room for the wide walkway. These cuts will be sources of erosion, all the while plants will grow over the walkway and need to be hacked back. That said, I enjoy walking on wooden plank pathways because of the sound it makes and because they generally preserve land adjacent to the pathway.

Eventually the wooden walkway does end, changing to an edged pea stone pathway. Further in, asphalt paths mix with the pea stone paths. The landscape these paths traverse is attractive and completely constructed, despite its naturalistic appearance.

After you explore this landscaped portion, called Avalon Park, you can go on to the much larger Avalon Preserve and East Farm Preserve. Cross over Rhododendron Road (an event during flowering season) and take the red trail to a few miles of woodland and field trails of different color blazes. The yellow and orange trails pass through old farm fields cultivated for massive displays of native wildflowers. All the trails can be walked within a couple of hours with ordinary footwear.

A colony of Joe Pye Weed at the edge of Mill Pond.


The wooden truss bridge (despite the cables) over Mill Pond.

This appears to be an Aster. Anyone?

Coastal Sweet Pepper Bush, Clethra alnifolia, had scented flowers.

This white-flowered shrub was growing adjacent to the pepper bush. Anyone know this one?

Afterward you can walk to the beach at Sand Street (half-mile), or even further to West Meadow Beach (about 3 miles) which has recently been overhauled (finally!!) to be completely open to the public. I have rented a canoe at the marina near Sand Street Beach, across from the Three Village Inn -search the Yellow Pages for Stony Brook Boat Works to find their listing.

A Railroad Runs Through It

Or My Forest Park Hike

I've been planning on exploring Forest Park for some time and finally I had the chance to do it. It was a warm day, yesterday, so the idea of walking through a shady forest enticed. I drove to Park Lane South, where there was ample street-side parking, then stepped out and felt a cooling breeze emanating from the woods. Ahhh.

click on it for full size

After crossing the boundary, the first thing I like to get is a map -where am I going? Fortunately, there was a park map on the park drive. I took a photo of it, as I am prone to do when I do not have a printed map, and used my camera screen to view it. On this day, it really helped.

The beginning of the trail. At this point, I had no idea how confusing the trail system would be. All was well, the trail was soft underfoot. I wore open-toed shoes (beware, missed roots had me tripping over myself on some trail parts).

As the title suggests, the LIRR actively runs through Forest Park. To boot, so does Jackie Robinson Parkway, Myrtle Ave, and Metropolitan Ave. I was never able to get fully away from the woosh of vehicles.

Not long into what I believed to be the blue trail, the fencing to isolate the train tracks is completely blown out. On the left -looking north, on the right -looking south. I found myself at this location on the blue and yellow trails.

I also found this fresh campfire site. Makes you think about those who may live in or near the park.

So I am walking along on what I think is the blue trail and suddenly I've merged with the bridle trail. I wanted to avoid this, but I could see no way to stay off as the blue trail is gone as far as I could tell. The bridle trail is good for walking, but beware - I ran into many riders galloping their horses.

Its at this point that I am beginning to learn something about Forest Park. It has obvious, distinct spur trails that the map doesn't show. The trails are well worn and I guarantee will confuse. This intersection above was easy to navigate, but many were not. I passed tens of intersections that were not mapped on the orange, blue, or yellow trail. But by far, the blue trail had the most. So, I would say that Forest Park is an excellent place to come and discover your trail map reading skills, learn how to use your compass, or hone your woods navigation skills. No chance of really getting lost since you are bounded by the city, but ample opportunity for confusion and decision making.

The park was not in good shape. Lots of downed trees, bare areas, weedy zones. In fact, it reminded me so much of where I grew up, I felt psychologically transported 40 miles east to the hummocky oak landscape of my youth. I grew up on the eastern side of the Harbor Hill terminal moraine which extends all the way through Jersey. Forest Park sits squarely on one of its high points.

Part of the dilapidated walking path, which may be the orange trail in between Park Lane South and one of the park drives. Something about these lamps, duct-taped up and leaning into the trees, that says uncared for.

The blue and yellow trail were mostly clear of poison ivy, but the Orange trail had it in many spots, like this large patch.

All in all, I was underwhelmed by my Forest Park experience. I hiked all the trails, barring the orange along the Jackie Robinson Parkway, in about two hours.

I do wish that people you pass on the trail would show the courtesy of acknowledgement. Out on wilderness trails, if you pass someone, general etiquette is to say hello. Here in the city I know we have different attitudes about acknowledging those in close proximity. With that in mind, I argue that it is more valuable to acknowledge when hiking in highly populated areas. Its just creepy to pass someone on a trail that only warily eyeballs you or worse, doesn't even look. Passing lone men out in the woods, especially in a place with so many desire paths, can put a person at dis ease that could be well assuaged by a hello, a smile, or even a simple nod. I will manage one of those three if I pass you on a woods trail in the NYC area. Hope you do the same.

Despite my complaints, I did make some discoveries...

I've been seeing this everywhere I go recently and Forest Park had a lot. Obviously a berry, like rasp or black. But neither of those...

It's notable for its bright orange berry (before it goes red I think) and its hairy/thorny sepals.

I spotted a couple of these, but cannot ID them. Five petaled, St. Johnswort-like yellow flowers; trifoliate leaves, astilbe-like; maybe 2 feet tall in the woods. Anybody?

I did find a few patches of fern on the yellow and blue trail.

On the blue trail, just passed 'The Gully,' this dangerous looking plant was trailside. It had spines on its stem and spines at the axil of each set of leaves. They were sharp. The leaves are pinnately compound. The stems were green, the whole plant green. It looked like a weed to me, but hard to say. It grew in a patch that looked as if it may become large shrubs or small trees some time in the future. My only guess is Aralia spp., but I didn't see any flowers or berries. I'm not sure Aralia has those axil spines. Anyone???

In two locations I spotted garden iris.

Tulip trees were present, especially on the yellow trail.

This fungus I found on the orange path, near the park drive. Anybody know this one?

On the yellow trail, not far from the train tracks, this big black beetle crossed my path. I couldn't take a good photo, she was moving fast. I take it for a she, because it seemed to be depositing eggs in the soil every few inches.

This was the prize, made the whole trip worth it. Indian Pipe. I've never seen it on Long Island before, although it most certainly grows here.

Map It.

In The Forest

Its taken me some time to get my first woods hike here at Weir Farm onto the blog. No doubt, in part due to the trouble identifying woodland plants -which is new to me and less chronicled on the web. But the hiking has been sweet as can be. So many damp forests I've hiked in spring or summer are swamped with mosquitoes, black flies, and deer flies. Nothing can send me packing faster than a swarm of any of these boogers. But to my great pleasure, they've all been on vacation.

The White Trail is a short loop into the mesic forest of southwestern Connecticut. I've also had some difficulty identifying the types of forest on the preserve. This is in part because the trails here traverse what appears a patchwork of forest communities. I'm seeing at least three: Beech-Maple Forest and Chestnut Oak Forest in the uplands with Red Maple-Hardwood Swamp in the low. While any number of species inhabit all these communities, the named species are dominant and they affect the type of understory plants, and possibly some fauna, in addition to the overall look and feel of the woods. Now on to the woods....

The trail...

On the east branch of the White trail, look up and down, and you'll see this tree. From a distance, I thought this was a Tulip Tree, making me think this was an Oak-Tulip Tree community.

Getting closer, looking at the leaves led me to mountain maple, Acer spicatum. But the samara are reddish on the mountain maple, where these are green. A friend of mine calls this a "goosefoot maple." I'm going to call it Acer pennsylvanicum or Acer striatum.

We called the maple fruit "polynoses" when we were kids; I suppose still do and I'm not the only one.

Many of these Liliaceae in the woods -but which one? Hairy Solomon's, Smooth Solomon's, or Rose Twisted-stalk? I'll have to go back and take a closer look.

Another Lily, the Canada Mayflower. Sometimes 6 inches tall, but often quite diminutive.

The pink azalea, Rhododendron periclymenoides, growing well in the understory of maple and beech.

No scent that I could make out.

My new favorite tree. I knew what to call it as soon as I saw it and although I've never seen it before, I surely heard or seen the name -Shagbark Hickory or Carya ovata.

INTERMISSION

The White trail connects with the east-west running Yellow trail. After crossing the drainage, you begin a gradual incline, meeting again at the White trail and turning to the north.

As you climb, the drier, rocky soil gives way to a Chestnut Oak forest community. The understory has large tracts of Mountain Laurel. The mountain laurel and oak forest make up most of the western branch of the White trail loop.

I prefer the B&W photo over the color -looks like some kind of Burtonesque army of stick-people on the march.

Since the laurel forest is part of the understory, the shrubs are less leafy and many had little to no flower buds. Those that will flower are setting buds now, and I hope to see the bloom.

Anyone could miss this, but what a nice memorial. "The Anna White Woods, In Loving Memory"

It gently reminded me of the garden of Ian Hamilton Finlay.


Plant and mineral rubbin' bums!

Round things on oaks. Those woodpecker holes are fresh in a live tree.

I found this plant shooting through the floor of oak leaves. What is it?

The Blue trail is a north-south running trail that connects to the Yellow. It runs along the edge of a rocky ridge, winding among the oaks and mountain laurel. It is on this trail that I found the Lady's Slipper.

Day and a Half Hike

Last weekend my wife and I went to the New Paltz area for a couple of days of hiking. The weather couldn't have been more perfect. The Shawangunk (pronounced Shon-gum) mountain chain, located between the Catskills and the Highlands, may be the most interesting and diverse ecological niche in the northeast and only 2 hours from NYC.

Many hikes travel along or have views of rockface.

Moss, lichens, ferns, shrubs, and trees grow on the ledges.

Rivers of brilliant red blueberry bushes lined the top of the mountains and the distant valley appears like the sea. All this near Sam's Point.

Along the path, red blueberry bushes mingled with this white-seeded plant which I think is Pearly Everlasting, or Anaphalis margaritacea.

Dwarf Pitch Pine Plains around Lake Maratanza, near Sam's Point. Trees are around 5 feet tall.

Looking west from Sam's Point at sunset

Plan B: Greenbelt Nature Center

Because the Native Plant Demonstration Garden was closed, I decided to head for the fairly new Greenbelt Nature Center. To get there from the S44 Travis Avenue stop, I walked up East on Travis about 300 yards or so and picked up the S61 toward St. George.

I take this about a mile (I could've walked) to Rockland Ave. I got off the bus and realized that where I needed to go is without sidewalks and the traffic heavy, constant, and not at all used to pedestrians. Plus, there's no shoulders on the road. Way to welcome your park visitors, S.I. To boot, there were no signs for the Nature Center from the direction I was coming. I knew I needed to walk east, but didn't like that feeling of uneasiness as I travel in traffic to an unknown place. Staten Island is largely a car owner's borough. It is designed around this. After the brief, but hairy, walk I arrived at the well-groomed Nature Center.

I ate lunch, used the rather clean, un-NYC Parks-like bathroom, and looked around the center. The place is definitely built around children and I might add there were virtually no adults without children (there was a child's birthday party going on). There was information about the local fauna and flora, including an Asian Longhorn Beetle display.

The Asian Longhorn Beetle Display

The park trails were empty, almost eerily so. It was a rather nice summer weekend and no one was taking a hike. Maybe everyone wanted the beach or something?

Patches of fern are found trail-side.

The woods reminded me somewhat of the woods I grew up with, but with stands of hardwoods that didn't grow in Suffolk County. There was the smooth, gray bark of the Beech tree, the similarly smooth gray of young Tulip Poplars, mighty large Maples, stands of Oaks, and Sassafras too. Sassafras grew in the woods around my childhood home and some leaves emit a strong lemon scent when you tear them. No worries Parks, this Sassafras I left alone.

Bark of the Beech tree and Sassafras leaves

There were patches of ferns amongst the trees, glacial erratic boulders with moss, and grass along the trail.

Glacial erratics in the trail bed and a mystery grass

The trails were familiar in the way that they never seem to give in to the plants, hard and easily traveled with sneakers. Less mosquitoes than I would have expected as well, really very little bugging me. There was, however, a good dose of poison ivy along the trail -so beware.

Poison Ivy growing up a trail-side tree.

The trails I walked seemed great for mountain biking, but this is either not allowed or contentious in the Greenbelt system (or all NYC parks?) for the obvious reasons of slow moving hikers/fast moving bikers, trail erosion, and forest degradation. Some mountain bikers are working to change this, but until then, keep the bikes at home.

Erosion along the blue trail

After a round on parts of the blue, white, and red trails (how patriotic), I decided to head for the bus, rain was on its way. By the time I traversed the shoulder-less road back to the bus stop, it was raining lightly. In 5 minutes I picked up the S61 -a straight shot to St. George and its ferry terminal where I just made the 3pm ferry.

On the way back I got a good look at those Olafur Eliasson waterfalls.