“TRAVEL IN LOCAL SPACES”
“Bear Mountain - Harriman State Park”

by Jessica Kuzmier

     One of my favorite things to do, back in the days when I lived in the city, was to take a long drive upstate New York in the fall to see the mountains. Back then, upstate New York meant Orange County or Dutchess, which to anyone who lives north of that seems like a wild joke. But when you live on Long Island, even the Bronx is upstate.


     Getting off the Island was always a hassle. Bottlenecks and traffic jams were the rule, whether nine in the morning or nine in the evening. Everyone seemed to want to communicate and commute with the Great New York City, one way or another. Once I got to the Bronx it felt like I entered another country - the great mainland. Living on Long Island felt like its own native land, cut off from the rest of the world by too many malls and bodies of water. I always loved it as the city thinned out the further you traveled north of I-87; definitely a precursor to when I would move out of the city area for good. I loved how there were open spaces and mountains that seemed uninhabited by anyone. And there seemed to be nothing but trees, especially as you neared the Catskill area.


     One particular October, during peak foliage season, my spouse and I decided to head upstate for an overnight adventure. We decided to go to Bear Mountain, right outside of Harriman State Park, which is located right on the Rockland/Orange County borderline. The mountain range is just starting to escalate when you get to that area. Hills seem to be everywhere, and the terrain seemed exotic compared to the relatively low range that the Island was in. Golds, reds, oranges everywhere- the Creator's version of Art Deco. Even though we were here during the week, there were a lot of people. I was just glad to not be there on the weekend, and despite the people there, it was still quieter than my metropolitan everyday life.


     There was a tower that purported views so extensive that you could see into New Jersey and Connecticut, as well as seeing West Point. Being not exactly used to mountain climbing yet, our ascent to the tower really felt like a workout. I liked hiking, but what seemed like a mountain to me in my reality then was merely a hill in this culture. I was glad to get to the top of the hill for the rest as much as the views.


     But the views were totally wild. A blanket of trees covered the vista, as though no other civilization existed except for the world of botany. Nature was predominant here, clocks were silent, and technology did not invade this space. High up, looking all around, you for got the world that you came from held such vital importance at one time. But this is exactly what I came for- to experience life on a different level, one where man-made reality didn't seem so predominant.


     The sun was just changing its cast from gold to pink when we left, going to find some informal lodging overnight. Our vehicle was our hotel, a van that was just comfortable enough for two people and a dog to sleep in. Being that the Appalachian Trail cut through this area, there were a lot of parking areas that people tended to pull over at, and we settled in for the evening at one of them. In the middle of the night, we woke up to headlights beaming through our window. A state trooper was there, but he/she didn't get out of his/her car. We kind of felt like we were caught in some shakedown we didn't know we were part of- nothing had said it was illegal to park overnight. But nothing said it was legal either, and ignorance of the law has never been much of a defense anytime or anywhere. To our relief, the trooper left without confronting us directly. We're not sure what he/she was doing there, but maybe he/she just radioed in our plates to see if the vehicle was reported stolen or something of that nature. Seeing no trouble, he/she just went on to his/her next part of his job. I had a hard time going back to sleep after that interruption.


     The next morning we woke up early to a purple hue covering the dawn sky. A trail marker announced a path for hiking, and that it would last for several miles. We walked about half an hour into the trail, following the hills up and down, before we realized that we didn't have any water, which I find essential for any length of walking time. The morning was humid as well, so my thirst was catching up quickly to me, as well as for my husband. We cut our hike short and headed back toward the van. But even for that short amount we walked, the kingdom of color that surrounded was heavenly. Just the perfect antidote to a busy life that seemed to important for its own good.


     Going home to the traffic always seemed like a letdown after trips like these; I didn't want to leave the forests and the quietude they seemed to provide. This attitude eventually was the catalyst for what would eventually lead me to leaving the city life for the mountains.