Hike #645; Ulster and Delaware Backpack; Bloomville to Denning

 Hike #645; Ulster and Delaware Backpack

8/9-8/17/12 Ulster and Delaware Catskill Backpack; Bloomville to Denning with Jillane Becker

It's become a tradition since 2009 that Jillane and I go backpacking together each Summer, and it's always an absolutely amazing time.

Day 1

The idea behind each time is that it be a completely different geographic type of area than the previous time. We did a couple of short mini campouts with the group at Thunder Swamp and on the Highlands Trail, and then another in St. Anthony's Wilderness in 2009, then a trip across Coal Country from Ashland to Lehighton PA in 2010. In 2011 we took on Pennsylvania Dutch Country in a way that most backpackers never go.

This year we had discussed doing the Catskills, but it wouldn't be the standard Catskills trip. We wouldn't be on just the regular trails used by backpackers. We would cover the old rail lines, focusing not all on the beautiful natural setting, but also the forgotten tourism and industry associated with the area. We would walk through the less used towns that are well beyond their heydeys.

Jillane found a town noted for selling used books, and another with many historic old hotels and such. She then found Catskill Scenic Trail passed through them both. This rail trail was in a book I had gotten from Amanda Murphy and Jason Kumpas, so I found it on the google maps, then found other sites along the way and a route to the south. I wanted to do Slide Mountain, which is the tallest of the Catskill peaks.

Using this criteria, I came up with multiple routes that could lead us between these sites after doing the Catskill Scenic Trail that Jillane wanted to cover. Since it's a rail trail, we'd be able to move along rather fast. I of course love rail trails myself.

I originally planned to get a taxi back north to Bloomville, but the different services that I'd called were quoting me over $300 for the ride! This wouldn't work out, so I started seeking alternatives. I noticed while on facebook that my friend Craig Nunn was on. Being a NY/NJ Train Conference guy, I thought he might know of someone who offers shuttles.

As fate would have it, Craig not only owns a house in the Catskills, along our route, he was planning to go up on Friday, the last day of our trip (the original last day was to be Thursday, but we gladly extended it for this convenience).

And so I planned for Craig to meet us on Denning Road, and got permission to leave Jillane's car for the duration of the trip in Bloomville, the northwestern terminus of the Catskill Scenic Trail.

We were off to a late start on Thursday, but made it to the trail head and started off. Jillane did not sleep at all the night before, instead working to get ready for the trip. We dropped our beloved cats off at her sister's house for the week, and we were off to the mountains.

We walked only a few miles along the trail, which followed the abandoned right of way of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad, the only rail line to truly pass through the entire Catskill region. It was completed between Kingston Point and Oneanta by 1874. The section west of Bloomville to Oneanta had been abandoned in the late 1960s, and the section we were walking was abandoned in 1976.

Below us to the right was the West Branch of the Delaware River. We followed it up stream, and watched as it grew continuously smaller. We came to a trestle over the West Branch, and sat our packs down to figure out where to camp. We walked on a bit to a second trestle over the Delaware, and there was one alright spot above a quarry. Still, we turned back and found a nice knoll in a woods of evergreens, hidden from the trail, to set up camp.

It was a lovely hillside with the West Branch of the Delaware below us. We finished packing everything we needed into the tent just in time. The clouds soon let loose and we had a torrential down pour.

Last year, hiking in PA Dutch Country, the tent fly leaked badly and so we got soaked. It was awful. Jillane had just bought this tent during the week at Ramsey Outdoors, and it was perfect. We did get a little water in the tent because I didn't put the rain flow to cover our feet area quite enough. Still, it worked quite well. We only saw two other hikers, women on a stroll, this first day.

Day 2

We'd be just shy of 15 miles this day.

We woke up early. I saw the forecast showed a big storm coming our way. I didn't want to be packing up the tent in that, and so we both got up pretty early and packed everything in. The rain ended up holding out for quite some time though.

We crossed the two trestles over the Delaware, and then continued through lovely farm lands. Even though I studied the areal images of the trail route quite a lot before leaving, even I was surprised at the rural character of where we were.

The trail passed through many wide fields. To the right of us were larger Catskill Mountains, though not nearly as large as what we would be seeing in a few days. To the left of us were lower mountains, many of them with cleared pastures and cows roaming. We crossed the Delaware a third time and had a very pleasant walk to the village of South Kortright.

Just before reaching South Kortright it started raining rather heavily. Jillane brought an umbrella, and she'd given me a rain poncho that was quite good. We took a detour from the trail in this town, first to the right, to have a look at the beautiful old architecture. A building that looked to be an old station was along the rail bed, and there were many other very nice structures. There was a large mansion on a hill off of Delhi-South Kortright Road known as Belle Terre. It was now Phoenix House for recovering addicts, but well kept. Across the street were two lovely buildings we thought to be carriage houses or stables, or maybe both.

We turned back and then walked the opposite direction and found a beautiful stone arch bridge over the West Branch of the Delaware, with a plaque that read "presented " instead of "built", and I couldn't read the date.

Across the river was some sort of nursing community or something, so we turned back and then walked further through the main drag of town a bit. We didn't find much, then cut back across the church property to regain the rail trail a short distance from where we left it.

The trail was very clear and open. In a lot of places it appeared to be used by farmers to get to their fields primarily. We'd only passed those two other hikers so far the previous night. It was well mowed on either side, and there were still mile markers at almost every mile along the way. They were well made with concrete, with a "K" on them, denoting how many miles to Kingston. It was nice to know when we'd passed a mile along the trail, although we'd take so many side trips it wouldn't be nearly accurate.

We crossed over Rt 18, and kept to the north side of the road a bit. We had a nice little break along the way, eating clementines and laughing at the cows in the fields, one of which made a strange high pitched moo. Jillane had packed way too much food, but we didn't know that we'd be able to so easily re-stock. We probably packed as if we were going opposite direction. Either way, it worked out in the long run.

We soon came to the town of Hobart. We turned to the left of the trail and left our packs under a pavilion in a town park to walk into the village. St. Peter's Church was next to us, a pretty old church, and we descended to town where a road crossed the West Branch of the Delaware on a nice old stone bridge. The river's width was not much here, but there was a spillway dam which created ponds up and down stream from us here.

Hobart is  known as the "Book Village of the Catskills", with five used book stores. When we got into town, Jillane was very happy to see "All five bookstores open" on a sign.

The first one we went into was great. There was a lot to see. I always end up looking at books I intend to purchase far more than others. Before moving on, we went back to get our packs and leave them in front of this first store. We chose to purchase some books and made plans to either have them shipped or to bring them to the post office. We then moved to further stores. That first store was very friendly, with an older couple that were very helpful. The second store was not at all the same. It was quiet, and didn't cater to the local history type of stuff we were looking for. We had a look around, but then moved on. The next store was a focus on mysteries and crime novels or something, and so we skipped that one altogether and went into the next one which was like two stores together, in halves of the same shop. That one had good stuff and the people were very friendly. A guy had the right side, with some interesting stuff, and a woman had the left, where I found an old copy of the NY Walk Book for eight dollars. I was very happy to get that. Jillane got several other Catskill books and more between this place and the first place.

It was nice to see that the places worked together well, or at least the ones on the south side of the main street. The first store recommended we try the other stores, because they may have other books we wanted, and when we returned to the first store for our packs, the proprietor of the last store came in and casually socialized. It was neat to see how they all got along so well. The people from the first store were very happy to hold our books fur us for a week, and we would return to pick them up at the end of our trip!

Other than my NY Walk Book and a couple other things, I got a book on the Ulster and Delaware Railroad, a piece I was very happy to have, though it was fifty bucks.

We returned to the trail after a little break, and I got a snack at a farmer's market that was closing up. As we left town, there was one large manufacturer of some sort, who's name escapes me now, but it was plastered all over things in the town, as benefactor. It was the only big place like this we'd see the entire trip. After this, the trail resumed it's rural character again. It stayed pretty much farms, with a few swaths of woods all the way to the next town, Stamford.

Each town along the trip would be something that seemed totally different than the previous. Bloomville was sort of run down, residences with a couple stores. South Kortright was well to do residences only. Hobart was some sort of revitalized little haven that one wouldn't expect to succeed. Stamford was the abandoned former resort town.

Just walking into the town on the rail bed was something different. We only saw two other trail users the entire day, two cyclists, until we got to Stamford. A depressed looking boy went by us carrying a skateboard, and then a young couple as we got to the main crossing in town, at the old railroad station.

The station now hosted an organization known as Headwaters Trails, which has a trail system at the Delaware headwaters. They were closed when we arrived, but it was nice to see the station in good shape. Everything else though, was run down. Abandoned buildings on either side of the road.

We turned left up hill into the town, to the main street where folks were getting ready for some sort of festival. We figured out how to get to the Belvedere Country Inn, where we'd spend the night.

There was a smaller, closer motel, with a phone number, but no one answered anyway. The Belvedere was an interesting experience, because it was really the last of the hotels of it's kind. It was quite huge, but not looking at it from the front. It had the lovely porches and such, but the body of the building stretched far back from the road. Across the street was the Mountain Home, a pretty much abandoned place, but the owner had a lower corner of the place made livable, where he was staying. A lady who worked at the Belvedere told us he bought the place for $6000! Amazing...

We checked in at the Belvedere, owned by an older Irish gentleman. It was strange checking in. The front area was very pretty with old furniture and a lot of things to look at hanging on the walls. It looked like an old style hotel. No one came when I rang the bell for service, and the sign said to just come around back. I walked in to find the owner watching TV on his couch, and he strolled on out and apologized for his absence.

We went up stairs to see our room, and were at first concerned because it didn't have air conditioning, but then it got cooler out and we didn't need it anyway with the windows opened.

Once we'd sat all of our stuff down, we headed back out of the place for a walk. We followed back streets, Prospect Street to Church Street, and found a trail heading into the woods. We followed it a bit past a stone structure in the hillside to the right, but it was getting dark. I was surprised to see any official trails out there. Craig would tell us the next week that there's an extensive system up there. I found a map of it at the front of the Belvedere and took a photo of it.

We walked down Church Street to the main street and turned right. We then went to look at places to eat, but some were closed. We also went to see The West Home, a remarkable old giant hotel that was now totally abandoned. It was sad to see such a cool structure in such bad shape. Hopefully someone comes along and repairs it.

We continued back to the main drag and settled on pizza for dinner. I went to the nearby gas station for drinks, and found some really good Byrne Dairies chocolate milk, which was great. I hadn't had much luck with NY chocolate milk in the past, so this was good.

After pizza, which Jillane really liked but I thought was just ok, we stopped in the Grand Union Grocery store, the only large grocery store we'd pass on the entire trip, to restock on some food. Then we headed up hill and back to the Belvedere to have a nice relaxing end to the night.

In the morning, while packing up, I found someone's underwear under the bed, pretty gross. I told the girl doing the cleaning, and she told me to take our time leaving, no rush to check out. None of the places we stayed had any kind of continental breakfast or anything, very different from other places we'd stayed. Last year, during the coal country backpack, I think everyplace had donuts or something. At least one did anyway.

Day 3

At 18.25 miles, this would be the longest day of our backpack.

We headed into town again, and Jillane got some more stuff at Grand Union. I had a slice of pizza from a little place across the street from the church. We then headed down through town and back to the rail bed. I was surprised that the station wasn't opened on a Saturday, mid day. We walked the trail on and soon came to the Family Dollar Store at the crossing of Rt 23. We went in there to have a look around briefly. I had an ice cream bar, and Jillane found some fake ferret cat toys she figured our cats would love, so she bought some (note: the cats at Jamie's seemed to love them, but none of ours at home seem to pay any attention, amazingly! They're good quality toys!).

We continued along the trail from here to skirt a wetland on the left side. There was an impressive trail on a boardwalk out across it, which I could see returned further ahead. I decided to walk it while Jillane stayed on the rail bed. It looped up to Prospect Street, turned right, and then came back. It was known as the Mase Cold Wetlands Preserve, and was probably the furthest head waters to the West Branch of the Delaware River we'd see. In retrospect I was very glad to have visited it.

We continued through more farm land, gradually taking the up hill grade, until the center of the hill where I could see the grade shift from up to down hill. It was cool to see it because it was in the middle of an open field area. This was the first of at least six times we would cross the Catskill Divide on our trip. The Divide is the line where drainage splits between the Delaware River basin and the Hudson River basin. We would soon be following the Bear Kill, a tributary to the Schoharie Creek.

We soon passed through South Gilboa NY. This town had really nothing to see except for the old train station, which was really cool. It was near to a house, but we still went inside and had a look around. It had been abandoned for some time, and still retained a lot of the signature railroad station looks. The waiting benches, luggage loading area, ticket booths...it was quite cool. We had a nice break here and explored the place.

We passed for a bit into Greene County I think it was, but soon passed back into Delaware. Other than this short section, the entire hike was in Ulster and Delaware Counties. We crossed a road in this area called Bruce Pond Road, and someone changed the sign to "Bruce Porn Road". It actually reads that on Google now, just as it reads "Lard Pond" up near our former home at White Lake!

The trail in the section near Gilboa was rather strange. All along the entire trip we had little yellow signs that read "caution" and such, but they got a bit more descriptive and strange as we neared what used to be the eastern terminus fo the trail at Grand Gorge. We'd gotten used to the caution signs, and "bridge ahead", and the like, and some said "stay on trail". We soon found one that said "Stay on trail or stay home". Then we came across another that said "Join a club".

The trail narrowed for a bit, where there were washouts from the Bear Kill Creek below us, left over from Hurricane Irene the year before.

The trail soon crossed Rt 23. At every road crossing was a mileage sign, but they all counted up and down between Bloomville and Grand Gorge. Nothing had been done for the section south to Roxbury, and  much of this section would not be as well developed, but I liked that better.

We crossed over Rt 23 into a cut, and moved away from the river valley. There was a large tree and an abandoned road that once continued to Jump Brook Road ahead. This was a nice, narrower section of rail bed ahead, and before crossing Jump Brook Road it passed a giant old rail car indended for purposes I don't know.Jillane saw a sign that read that the trail was closed ahead, but I didn't see it. It still had the caution signs and such, but the footway was just kept opened by ATVs.

We crossed a decked, but high and somewhat tilted trestle over a creek and continued through the deepest section of woods yet on our trip, and also the most wooded section of the entire Catskill Scenic Trail. It was a really nice section on a high shelf. All the land around it was private, owned by the Pisano family according to signs. The right of way soon went through a very deep cut, which appeared to have been closed in from land slides, but then recently cleared out by earth movers. Even a mile marker had been cleared around, mile marker 66.

The right of way soon opened up a bit and came close to a few buildings and homes, and then came out to Rt 30. It's interesting to note that none of the crossings on the entire trail had bollards of any kind. Any car could easily just drive onto the trail it's entire length. This section here would be tougher because there were still ties in a mucky area. There was a sign with mileages to different towns at this point as well. We stepped on the ties across wet areas and continued south into a deep gorge.

We were now paralleling the East Branch of the Delaware River. We'd crossed the Catskill Divide again, probably in the big cut or just before. The East Branch begins on the south side of Grand Gorge in a swampy area. There was very little to it except a muchy wetland along the rail bed for some time.

In the deepest and narrowest sections of gorge, there was an abandoned house, which Jillane went to see. I also took a couple side trips up the narrow rocky ledges to the left of the trail to check out natural erosion caves in the bases of the mountains. There were a lot of small caves, but one was rather big and could be walked into for a bit. Jillane spotted it because it had stones finely placed out in front of it, maybe to hide it. In this case, it made it stand out to her.

By the time we crossed Schuman Road heading out of the narrow gorge section, it was getting pretty dark. The mileage in my book had told me a certain distance to Roxbury, the end of the trail, but it must've been off. The trail came closer to Rt 30, but it was really dark. There were a few residences with private crossings. We were ready for a motel room or something.

We soon went along the back of a dairy place, where there was a strange milky substance on the ground. We didn't know it at first, but it was looking like some illegal spill. The area freaked us out, with all the bright lights while we walked by. It was uncommon to see a plant like this after being through area's we'd just been.

We continued south, and the stars came out, which was lovely. We had enough light to see the wide trail, and had no problem until it came out to Rt 30 north of ROxbury. From there, I guess the road overtook the old railroad bed. We had to walk the road for a bit.

There was a dirt lane heading off to the right soon, but we kept going a bit. We ended up having to stop along the road at a wide field when we realized that we missed a turn somewhere. A cop pulled up to us and asked if things were okay. The guy must have had a speech impediment because he sounded really strange. We both told him we were fine, and heading to a motel in Roxbury.  He asked if we knew where it was, to which we said yes.

I went back to the dirt lane and looked for the trail. Soon enough I found a sign that pointed us in the right direction. Apparently many trails went off in different directions from this point. When I got Jillane there and we began to walk, it turned out we were going the wrong way as per my GPS. We went back, and I looked into the weeds, and Jillane saw a trail sign. The trail was overgrown through this area. We started walking it anyway, in the dark, and a path was sort of worn into the middle of the railroad right of way. I was then shocked to see that the rails were still in place, but there were still trail signs.

We continued walking the "trail" right on the railroad tracks. It became easier to walk once we had a bit of forest canopy over head. We then got to a bridge over a creek, and it was decked for trail use, but the rails were still in place here too.

We continued on from here and passed an old truck that was rigged to drive on the rails.

When we got to Sheppard Hill Road, we turned left to Park Street and walked it into Rt 41, in the town of Roxbury. The town was quiet and dark, save for the Roxbury Hotel on both sides of the road, and a bar across a bridge over the East Branch. It looked like the hotel lobby was totally closed, and a sign read that they were full anyway. It was a huge let down. Walking around the side of the building across the street revealed it to be extremely upscale as well. This place would have easily cost us a couple hundred dollars.

I walked down across the bridge and went into the bar to ask for directions to  lodging. They told us the place here was booked, but that there was a camp ground further to the south by about two miles. I figured that was the best thing we'd find, and so we set out. If we waited a bit, they would have given us a ride, but I wanted to get there, plus I was against getting rides. I like to walk the entire length and not take short cuts. At this point we were close to relenting though.

They told me if I left twenty bucks at the first trailer, that would do it for the camp ground.

We walked down Rt 41 south for a ways, crossed the tracks, and came to Slauson Hollow Trailer Park. We turned left, and then right at the bottom of a hill onto camp ground road, which led into the private camp ground area. We crossed two open fields, and the last one had a few campers in it. We picked a far away spot, as far as we could get from other campers, and set up the tent there in nearly all dark.

I couldn't tell which trailer was the first one they referred to to pay, so I didn't do anything. If they wanted something they would find us in the morning.

We walked around the place quietly to see if we could find a good spot. This camp ground was conveniently right next to the old railroad tracks, active from Roxbury south to Arkville for excursion trains. There was a path connected to it which was even more convenient.

This site was great because there was a restroom with hot showers. We cleaned up nicely and got a really good nights sleep after our longest day.

Day 4

I woke up first at the camp grounds and got my stuff ready fast. Jillane got up and showered while I packed the tent up. While she was continuing to get ready, I went to explore a trail we'd spotted the night before, with a wooden sign that read that it lead to a waterfall.

The path was a wide grassy road at first, and led to someone's camp site. I passed a trailer and then continued on a foot path on the other side to a small creek. The path didn't really continue, it became like a deer trail that hugged the steep slope above the creek. It wasn't easy to walk this. As soon as I left I realized I should have walked in the creek rather than try to keep to the slope.I eventually came to the waterfall after walking in the creek. It was a beautiful little cascade with a deep, wide stony pool below it. There was a little erosion cave above the falls in the rocks. This was quite a nice place. I would find out later that this was known as Straton Falls.

Getting close, I fell into the brook taking pictures. Fortunately, my camera is waterproof, and my phone was not in my pocket.

I made my way back to the camp site and Jillane was about ready. We wandered over to the railroad tracks and turned right across a trestle over the brook and took a break. We had a beautiful camp site with a mountain view behind, hot showers, and all at no cost. I don't even think anyone except a few people who were up and about even knew we were ever there.

On the other side of the bridge, we explored an abandoned trailer park before continuing along the tracks to the south.

Heading south, the railroad was quite scenic, with the backdrop of mountains and the East Branch of the Delaware growing larger beside us all of the time.

Along the way, Jillane found a pile of garbage and a dumpster, probably left over from the flood, with a beautiful old clock in it. She took the clock and left it at the next road crossing with hopes that someone who appreciates it might pick it up. Also at the road crossing, an excursion train went by, a diesel with the Rip Van Winkle Flyer stuff on it, as well as Ulster and Delaware written on the side. There was even one open topped car which was cool.

After the train passed to the north, we continued south along the tracks, skirting wetlands. We stayed on the tracks until we got to Old River Road, a nice back road which parallels the tracks for some time to the south. We turned left from the tracks on the road and out to Rt 30 to see if we could find some food. A lady in a feed store refilled my water for me, but the place had nothing else for sale. We walked back, and headed toward the tracks again, when we were stopped by a guy living next to them in a former mill converted to a home. His name was Jack, and he gave us each a few bottles of water, and gave us a tour of his property. He showed us where the mill race used to go, and told us of how his home weathered Hurricane Irene and Tropical Storm Lee the previous year. He also showed us the big beaver dam in his back yard on the east branch. He told us  stories about the area and the reservoir to the south, Wawaka Lake, and how he was a music teacher who retired to the area to be a ski instructor part time. He was a very pleasant guy we were thankful to have met.

We took a break before continuing on along the road heading south. The slack water from the reservoir soon came into view to the east of us, next to the tracks. We had a long area that was open without any shade, and then opted to take a brief side trip up hill to a very nice little cemetery on a hill. The graves there dated back to the early 1800s. After walking around the perimeter of the cemetery, we returned to the backpacks and headed south on Old River Road into the village of Halcottsville.

There, there was a little bed and breakfast, and concession for kayak rentals onto Wawaka Lake. We bought a couple of drinks from the kid there, but there wasn't much. We then continued across the tracks and on up to Rt 30 again because it so closely paralleled the tracks.

We continued to walk along the road to the south. The tourist trail went by us again in this section. We also passed a farmers market that had already closed, with an historic rounded barn used for much of it's merchandise.

As we continued south, we soon came to little settlements. We passed a place with an historic marker reading "Hubbel". It must have been a famous name, because we saw many with that name in the cemetery just north of Halcottsville. A lady on a two story porch was hanging out laundry and shouted out to us about hiking happily.

As we continued south, we soon came to a settlement known as Kelly's Corners. This used to be a station stop on the rail line, but was pretty much forgotten. There was an intersection and a good sized creek heading for the East Branch of the Delaware here. Jillane spotted a big dumpster in the flood plain, in an area that looked as though more buildings should have been, and probably were prior to the hurricane. She found that the contents of this dumpster were all historic remnants from a museum that must have been destroyed by the flood! Inside she found many old post cards, copies of historic newspapers from the 1800s, and old shoes that might even fit her. She decided to pull them out of the dumpster, bag them, and hide them behind a rock. It was a good thing she did this because when we came back the following Friday, the dumpster had been emptied, but what she had sat aside was still there to take home.

After a good break here, we continued a short distance south on the road, then turned left where the tracks crossed, leading away from the road. We passed through a nice section of woods, and I took a dip in the Delaware at a nice little stony spot where there was a bit more depth.

From here, we headed further along the tracks to the south, and soon reached county Rt 38. We turned left here to follow the road south for a little bit. It paralleled the tracks rather closely anyway, and so we figured it would cut a little bit of distance and be easier than walking on the ballast rock. The rail line had been re-covered with ballast, because a lot of it had washed out during the flooding of the previous year.

Along the road, we passed a big yard full of rusty old farm equipment and a bi plane, and took a break to explore a very nice old cemetery on a hillside. A police officer watched me as I walked the edge of the place. Craig told us later that the officer for the town didn't have anything better to do and would set up his speed radar from in his house and pull people over for doing just five over the speed limit.

We continued south into the village of Arkville and stopped at a little pizza place for lunch. This was a great little stop, and the pizza wasn't bad. We each ate a couple of sliced and had lots to drink because we'd gotten so thirsty and were running low on water. I went back after the pizza and got half a dozen garlic knots as well, which were also great.

We sat on a porch of an old building that was now a restaurant, currently closed, to eat our lunch, and the guy who ran the place came out and gave us each a big bottle of Poland Spring water, which was great.

We were soon on our way. The railroad tracks came back out here, where a station like building stood with an eatery known as "Bread and Breakfast". We followed the tracks from here as they turned from going south to east. They soon led into the railroad yard, which had tons of vintage rail cars and a couple engines present. There was one in particular, an amazing old engine that was probably one of the helpers for overcoming the big up grades. I once was in an engine like this one in Ringoes NJ, and I wondered it it might have been the same one. Probably not.

Jillane and I talked about railroads for a bit as we left the rail yard and passed the station from which the excursion train usually departs. The tracks continued clear out to a bridge over Bush Kill Creek, a tributary to the East Branch of the Delaware. It was a through style truss bridge with single track. On the other side of the bridge was a huge washout where the tracks were suspended in the air, the fill below washed several feet below. The excursion trails used to run to Highmount, but since the hurricane washed everything out so badly, it was left in decay.

We walked the tracks through sometimes rather high weeds and over washouts heading east. The fine plants were so light and tiny that it looked like a green mist that tickled out legs as we walked through it. It kept getting darker as we continued. There were a few homes accessed by long driveways up across and before the tracks. Some of the people just looked at us from their porches in a disapproving way, and didn't greet us. I suppose they probably liked the privacy associated with the destruction of that rail line. We moved on quickly, as the rail line continued to gain elevation on it's way to cross the Catskill Divide again.

We kept to the tracks until we reached the old Freight Depot in Fleischmann's. This town was where the original Fleischmann's Dairy products came from. I'd always had Fleischmann's Margarine on my toast growing up, and so it was cool to be in the town where it originally came from. Only the freight depot still stood at this spot. The rail crossing at this point was where the Fleischmann Family would access their home, a large estate on the mountain side.

Fleischmann's is another town that by just about no one's definition is a destination in and of itself. We got to experience it in all of it's weird glory walking in after dark. We crossed Rt 28 and followed Depot Street out to Main Street. There was a beautiful old house on the left side as we walked into town, abandoned.

On the main street, things got stranger. There were hasidic Jews walking the streets. We'd thought they did that on Saturdays. It was getting late, and they were still wandering around. One kid on a bike passed us at least five times. Everyone peered cautiously over fences and out windows at us as we walked into town. A mechanic place was blasting polka music audible from the street. There were also hispanic people walking around. Every time a car approached, it stopped in it's tracks at least a hundred feet from us, presumably to see what we were up to. A police officer came by after a bit. I assume that someone called him after seeing us. He asked what we were up to, and I told him we were heading to the motel. He told us we were almost there.

Jillane spotted a cat wandering the street near a creek bridge, and tried to get it to come out. She had it out, and rolling around, happy. She gave it a bag of her tuna fish, which it loved, but then it got scared and ran off. She had never seen a cat act like that.

I later noticed an Hasidic Jew driving around a police vehicle, unmarked with colored light bars through town. I suppose the jewish people of town have their own police force. We got a room at the Pines Motel I think it was, and we showered up. Jillane headed out into the town to have a look around, and to find the cat again.

She found the cat and gave it more tuna, and again it was scared half the time. I went out to join her for a bit, and we wandered around the streets some. I talked to the kid that was riding by on the bike. He wanted to know what we were doing, where we were hiking. I told him a bit about our trip and he was very interested.

There was a lot of interesting stuff in the town, old buildings and store fronts, most of which were abandoned.

For the previous days of this trip, refer to the previous note!

Atop Slide Mountain

DAY 5

In the morning, we got up and went off to explore the town a bit more before moving on. We went to breakfast at a little gas station eatery on the east side of town. The three different races of people in the town were extreme, like caricatures of their backgrounds. The hispanic people were about the same, but the hacidic jews seemed more extreme and serious than the ones I'd seen around Morristown or in NYC. The third breed of people we came across were the hicks. Jillane laughed at the fact that about five of them went by on a major road, all hooting and hollering, riding in the bed of a pickup. There were confederate flags around during the trip, which was a laugh considering how far north we were above the Mason Dixon Line. While we were eating, hicks pulled up, some riding in the bed, to have food. They sat separately from the jews and hispanics. Kind of strange. I had a terrific chicken wrap thing I think it was.

We walked from there out through town and turned left on Wagner Ave I think it was. I talked on the phone with Craig, and he recommended this street because of all of the nice old victorian style homes. There were indeed some nice ones, as well as a big Cynigog. One of the homes, an abandoned one, was called the White Hall. It was supposedly built by some famous architect.

We turned right and crossed the Bush Kill Creek on a road bridge. There was a lot of evidence of the previous year's flood evident in town. Homes were still abandoned from that time within the flood plain. A bridge had washed out and was still not replaced.

We went into the main part of time and stopped by the library for a bit. There were some old history books in there which we looked at for a while. Jillane found a book about Zaddock Pratt who founded Prattsville to the north, and it detailed the tanning industry from the early settlement of the Catskills. She also donated a book about Coopersburg she had picked up near the beginning of our trip.

From here, we went back to another store for more food, a small store I had stopped by in the morning first thing. There really wasn't much to pick from in these parts. We checked out more store fronts; there was a vacated antique store with everything still left inside, and an old movie theater that was really cool. We also found a publishing company that made a lot of local history books. I called them up in the morning, but the store was no longer opened. They were good enough to send a catalog to us at home though.

At the motel, we hung out a bit longer and pet the sweet little cat they kept there. This cat had seven claws, and it made me remember my old cat Buddy, who had seven, and another, Wiskey, who had 8. The lady who ran the place told us that the locals don't like cats, and throw stones at them. I guess that's why the cat we'd met the night before was so afraid.

We soon left the town of Fleischmann's and made our way back up Depot Street to the old railroad tracks. We turned left to follow them on the rather steep ascent toward Highmount.

The line climbed quite a bit higher than the highway, and we were soon on a good shelf above the road and creek. We continued passing old mile markers which let us know how far we were going. We also passed the entrance to some old estate with stone pillars at the edge of the roadway by the tracks. I followed the road up hill for a bit but didn't find anything.

It wasn't long before we came to the top of the hill at Highmount. The Belleare Ski area was up in this area, and it seemed to get a good amount of use. THere was probably a station at this point once. We could see the change from up hill to down hill on the tracks, and there was a wooden platform for boarding the trains at the point, probably from recently discontinued excursion trips.

We continued down hill from here, and it was apparent that this stretch of the tracks had not been  used for much longer than the section from Arkville to Highmount. We fought through some heavy weeds, and then the tracks entered a more dense woods with a good canopy, and so there were no weeds and it was easy walking.

We went around big "S" curves, where the rail line made it's steepest descent toward Kingston. This was an absolutely beautiful section with cuts and fills. It was evident that the line was used as a trail in this stretch. We soon came to a spot where it was part of a DEC trail, the Cathedral Gorge Trail. This trail turned off to head up hill to the right, but followed the rail bed heading east to Woodchuck Hollow, where there was another trail access. The rail bed remained clear enough to walk easily from that point, but then got a bit more overgrown on the other side of the road, in Pine Hill NY.

There was a trestle over another creek opposite the road, and we crossed it with no problem. The tracks then went into rather dense woods ahead on a high shelf. There were amazingly few trees growing out of between the rails, but many on the sides.

After a bit, another trail came in from the left steeply, and turned left to follow the tracks. It was red blazed, and had Belleare Trail system written on it. It came up from the Pine Hill recreation area at a lake below. We continued on the tracks, which remained nicely cleared until the trail turned off to the right. Ahead, there was a high abandoned trestle. Jillane went down to go around it, but I fought through and crossed the wrecked old bridge, with rotten ties and such. It was a deck girder bridge, with Giggle Hollow brook below. After crossing, I went down to the old roads in Giggle Hollow along the creeks. There appeared to once be a road bridge over the creek under the trestle. We descended on a trail into the picnic area and had a nice break under a pavilion. Jillane pointed out that I'd cut up my left leg pretty good while trying to cross the bridge. I then went down to see a new covered bridge at the entrance to the park, and found a strange old arch bridge on an abandoned road heading east out of the rec area. There was a sign explaining the history of the bridge nearby.

We soon made our way back to the tracks and climbed to them on a woods lane. From here, they were much more difficult to follow. There were trees growing between the rails and a lot of blow downs. No one had been walking this section of the line. We were probably the first in a long while.

We crossed one driveway along the way, and the former crossing site was unrecognizable. The rails remained in for some time, but this section was much more slow going. We managed to fight on through, which was a chore with our full packs. We continued all the way to the village of Big Indian. There, at a road known as Lasher Road or something I think, where the bridge had been removed. Fighting through the brush, I saw remnants of the bridge sitting on the tracks. We had to climb down and then back up on the other side to get through.

Soon, we came to the bridge over Esopus Creek. I noticed the bridge looked damaged on the Google Earth images, but it was even worse seeing it in real life. A concrete and iron road bridge had washed away from somewhere up stream, and washed down to crash into the middle pier of the railroad bridge. The pier was smashed to the point where the mortar was removed in many places. I went out onto it first, and Jillane went to investigate where she could wade across. Esopus Creek was rather big, but fordable. After getting most of the way across, I realized this was rather easy. Jillane came back up and the two of us crossed the bridge with really no problem. The center, where the girders from each span were originally together, were separated by a lot. If they were ever to make this a trail, it would need some serious work.

We took a break on the other side, and I took a dip in the creek, and took pictures. It was rather easy to walk the tracks from here, as it went across a couple back yards, and then a parallel path took us out to the intersection of Rt 47 and Rt 28. There was a general store here that was open, which was fantastic. We wouldn't pass any other stores for the rest of the trip, and except for the lady who owned who got us food from Phoenicia the next morning.

I had a terrific burger I think it was. We loaded up on some more snacks to hopefully last the remainder of the trip, although they wouldn't and I would regret not getting more. I picked up nutter butter cookies and oreos, but would end up finishing them before getting done with the next day.

We left the store at Big Indian and tried to get on the tracks on the other side, but they were madly grown over to the point where it was impossible to walk them with full packs. We Oliverea Road to the left, parallel with the tracks, and where they crossed it remained overgrown. Jillane found a woods road to the left, which led to a cool old stone ruin, and then we climbed to parallel power lines with the tracks below to the left. This was insane trying to fight through, just before dark. We'd never be able to get through with full packs. We opted instead to follow the power line out to Rt 28, which rather closely paralleled the tracks anyway. We could see them at some points, and knew that we made the right decision. There was no way we were getting through that mess.

The road walk seemed to go on forever, but we soon reached the bridge over Esopus Creek, where the tracks also crossed the road, and we could see the Appletree Motel, where I had reserved another room for us. This wo uld be our last motel before a summiting four of the Catskill High Peaks.

The Appletree was another retro place, and the lady who ran it, Silvia Wolf, was very friendly and helpful (as mentioned, she helped us to get food the next morning). I knew we'd like the place when I saw the sign warning of the attack kittens. They were not kittens any more, but rather full grown cats. One, a cat named Remus, was the largest cat I'd ever seen. There was a sweet normal sized tabby that reminded us much of our cat Meat Loaf. Remus, Silvia said was a "Mush". Both cats were extremely lovable, and Remus just flopped on his back,  knocking things from the counter looking to be pet. When we picked him up, we could just hug him and he purred hard. It was easy to love such a big sweet thing like this.

We were given the choice of two rooms, which was also nice. It was roomy, with TV, a refrigerator, and had a lot of retro stuff and colors. We were pretty happy with it, and it was my favorite place we stayed this time.

DAY 6

The next morning, I woke up to see the entire side of the building swarming with amazing little humming birds. Earlier in the trip, I had a humming bird hover for a moment in front of my face, and I felt like I was in some disney movie. I sat and watched them for a bit and talked to Silvia.

When we were finally ready to go, we walked from the place onto Rt 28, back across Esopus Creek and onto the railroad. Unfortunately, even on that side of the creek it was just too tough to walk with full packs. We turned back and followed the road parallel heading east. There were more abandoned buildings, and a vending machine that had every bit of food in it eaten out of the wrappers from being unused for so long.

We continued on the road until we got to Fox Hollow Road. Yellow DEC discs were on the pole, marking it as a trail route. This was part of a trail known as Giant Ledge-Panther-Fox Hollow Trail. A lot of the Catskill Trails have weird long names for the different points of interest on them. The road was a nice back road and soon crossed Esopus Creek by the tracks. There were abandoned buildings, or at least vacant ones along the way. The tracks were still overgrown in both directions. As we headed up hill, there were a few occupied houses, but not too many. The road followed the creek closely, and after going up a ways, the trail turned right away from the road at an angle and crossed the creek.

We began making the steep ascent toward Panther Mountain here, which was at over 3700 feet. The climb was gradual over four miles. We took a break on the way up at Fox Hollow Shelter. There were a lot of trail registers on these trails, one by Fox Hollow Road, and another at the shelter. We continued up hill, and it got to be almost a level for a while, which was pleasant. There was tons of moss on the way. When we neared the summit, the climb got steeper. There was a view near to it facing to the north, but it was getting darker and it was hazy. It was also supposed to rain over night. Just before reaching the summit we had a really nice view to the east, with the valleys below.

Just about at the summit, right by a nice view point, we set up camp. We didn't know it yet, but we're not supposed to camp at above 3500 feet, and we were at over 3700. We found a really nice camp site. I was ready to set up on a rock for lack of anything better, but I'm glad we waited.

I set up the tent while Jillane prepared us a dinner of ramand noodles and some sort of dried pasta. It was great. We got into our tent just before the rain started coming in, and then it poured, with thunder and lightning. I slept pretty well as I recall that night.

DAY 7

I woke up first, and made my way out of the tent. The air was cool and felt really nice. I wandered over to the rocky outcroppings where there was a great overlook. The fog was filling the valleys below, and it was absolutely breathtaking. I still had enough cell service to text, and so I sent a message to my co workers and friends, happy to share the beauty of what I was seeing.

I went back to the camp, and wandered back and forth on the trail to take in more views. Jillane soon got up and we got our stuff ready to go again.

We didn't pass anyone the day before on the trail. We only saw on lady on the way up Fox Hollow Road even. As we descended, there was a bit of a view to the north. We then came to Giant Ledge, another popular spot with great views to the east, and also a limited one to the west. It appeared to be a popular camp site. We passed a couple other people in this area, but not many had made it up there yet. While the view was great, I didn't think it was as nice as from the top of Panther Mountain.

We continued to descend from here, and there were some good stone steps and such, leading down into the valley somewhat. The trail ended at the Phoenicia-East Branch Trail, which extended between Claryville and Phoenicia, partially along roads. We turned left on it, heading toward Woodland Valley, where there is a state camp ground.

The trail wasn't too bad at first, following some old logging roads. The roads were narrow and incredibly built with rock. Then it started pouring rain something fierce. I didn't bother putting my poncho on, and just fought through it.

The toughest part was that the trail turned sharply and headed back up hill after going down. We had passed a lot of people at the intersection toward Giant Ledge, but this stretch had no one but three other young guys who had been backpacking from below Peekamoose on the Long Path. They were heading the way we had just come, only backwards. I chatted with them for a bit on the ascent to the east. There were amazing stone steps on this stretch. We then turned right and headed back down hill a bit. After a while we arrived in Woodland Valley Camp Ground. The other guys had warned me that it was a pay area, which was disheartening. I was hoping to have a hot shower at their facilities. It turned out we could still use the facilities, which were operated by quarters. I had gotten quarters the day before, but somehow I had lost them all during the previous day.

Jillane went and showered, and I found a hose thing with hot water at a nearby building to clean off with. It wasn't quite as nice, but I made do with it. After a long break we continued on heading to the Long Path, part of the Burroughs Range Trail. This trip would make me more and more want to finish the entire Long Path. This is one of the most difficult spots on the entire Long Path, the Burroughs Range.

We crossed a foot bridge over the Woodland Creek and began our ascent toward the top of Wittenberg Mountain. We passed the side trail leading to a shelter, I think Terrace Mountain Trail, and former main trail down. It was closed by private land owner.

We continued up the mountain, and just before getting dark, Jillane spotted the most adorable little own roosting on a branch in front of us. It did a little owl dance for us, turned it's head back and forth a lot. I was able to take a few photos. It leaned forward to get a better look at us. It looked like our cat, Carrot.

After a while watching it, it flew away, and we continued on along the trail.

We were looking for camp sites, but were not finding anything good. We kept at it, and it became more difficult hand hold climbing over rocks. We were wondering if we were going to find anything or not. Finally, at a nice little view point, there was a flat area to the right of the trail that was perfect. We set up the tent before dark, a perfect place to sleep. Jillane kept waking up every time I rolled over asking if that was me making the noise. We'd seen a bear print on the trail, so it was a  little unnerving. There was no rain this time, at least that I remember.

DAY 8

We woke up and packed up to immediately finish the climb up Wittenberg Mountain. We didn't have enough food. After t his I had only two more Clif Bars to hold me through this day and the next. I told myself I would allow myself to consume one at the summit of Cornell Mountain, and another at the top of Slide Mountain, the highest peak in the Catskills at 4180.

It seemed like it was still a long time to get to the top of Wittenberg, but when we finally reached the top, the view was the best of the entire trip. We had an amazing overlook of Ashokan Reservoir, as well as plenty of other mountains in a 180 degree view. We could also see the peaks of Cornell and Slide off far to the right of us. Friday Mountain and other smaller peaks were visible to the south.

There were a ton of flies at the peaks. The same was true of Panther. I don't know why. After a good break, reading the century old graffiti etched into the rocks, we continued on. We descended from Wittenberg slightly, and in only 0.8 mile came to the top of Cornell. The climb up Cornell was much tougher than the climb up Wittenberg. There was a long high elevation col between the two ridges known as Bruin's Causeway, which was really cool. There was a hole in the ground where there appeared to have been a fire somewhat recently as well. There were more hand hold climbing spots. The worst one was a spot known as Cornell Crack. I had to remove my pack and push it up between the rocks in order to get up, and then have Jillane hand me hers.

The top of Cornell was nice, with a view back at Wittenberg. The actual summit was on a side trail with barely a view over trees. We then descended into the col between Cornell and Slide, rather steeply, and had a view on the way down out toward Slide. We could see the slide profile in the edge of the mountain, and it looked so far away from where we were.

The hiking between the two mountains was rather easy compared to what we'd been doing, but then we were on our way back up again. I missed the spring near the camp sites in the col, and the one going up the ridge, I presume, was dried up although the guide called it reliable.

The climb up Slide wasn't so tough at first, but then it got really tough, with one particularly tough spot with hand holds. Coming down that way probably would have been very difficult. As the top neared, we had a great view back at Cornell and Slide. I think the best view on Slide Mountain was this one, the one that so few see. Most people who climb Slide do so from the west, up the easy way. It's gradual and starts at a much higher elevation. We'd been going for two days starting at below 1000 feet elevation. The view going to the top the main way isn't as good.

We could see the evergreens on the top of Slide from way down. It seemed so far. After most of the tough hand hold climbing, there were ladders getting closer to the top. It was impressive stuff. We continued up gradually, and knew we were at the top when we found the Burroughs Plaque. John Burroughs slept beneath the rock at the summit many times as the plaque said. There was one guy sitting on the rock with a limited view to the east. He didn't seem so happy we were there. He appeared to be meditating.

Since there wasn't much of a view from that point, or from the summit where there used to be a fire tower, we moved on. There was a footing area for the former tower up there. After the anticlimactic summitting of Slide, we headed down hill a bit on the other side. There was then a view point off to the right of the trail, a very good one with a view south to Panther Mountain and Giant Ledge where we were the day before. It was a very out and around way of going to get to where we were, but there were only two ways and neither was actually direct. Craig told us later that there was another club that had it's own trail up slide, a short distance from the regular way, and that it was a private trail. It's amazing something like that is hidden just out of sight and so close to the other trail. Craig said it was one of the original trails up Slide.

The trail was wide and heavily used up to this vista and the summit beyond. One could tell that not many ventured beyond. They are missing out. Others were coming up the trail from the "easy" way as we called it, and the guy who had been meditating made his way back, and this time stopped to talk to us.

He asked where we had come from, and we said "Bloomville". So many people during the entire trip asked where we had come from, but no one ever knew the name "Bloomville" Hardly anyone knew about the Catskill Scenic Trail either. Pretty much any town north of Arkville in the western Catskills no one knows. The only areas further to the north that anyone knows is Hunter and Tannersville where it's still touristy. This guy was different though. He was from the city and owned a house in Stamford. He knew just where we'd been, and he was blown away.

He began asking us a lot of questions, what route we had taken, what day we had started. You could tell that his mind was going, and further proof was that he came back after leaving us to ask another question. It was cool for once to see someone truly appreciate the distance we had covered so far.

We continued down the trail from here, which was wide, gradual and easy for a while. It was like someone had put down a crushed stone surface in some areas. I suppose it was from a lot of use. Still, we felt like everyone else that had "summited" Slide didn't truly experience the mountain. We continued on, and the Long Path turned left onto the Curtis-Ormsbee Trail. We turned on this trail named for two guys who died in the Adirondaks I believe.

The trail was very relaxing in comparison to what we had been doing. There was a gradual down hill grade through some evergreens with a soft footing. The trail bent back and forth and wasn't anything amazing, but was a good cool down for after what we'd been through.

After a bit, there was a view to the south toward Table Mountain and Peekamoose Mountain, which the Long Path continues to. We continued down hill a bit more with one more view off to the right of the trail, to the northwest. These were outstanding views like we'd seen, but were quite nice. They would be the last two views of the entire trip.

The trail got a bit steeper, with a couple of hand hold spots to descend. Before the trail finally went into a valley an ended, there was a giant rock gully, maybe twenty or so feet wide, like a giant crack which we checked out. Where the trail ended there was the Curtis-Ormbsbee monmument, which was old. It's amazing that so many of these trails were put in so long ago, back even into the 1800s. Many of them were constructed by the CCC in the 1930s.

There was a neat little camp site at the trail intersection, but we turned left, on the Phoenicia-East Branch Trail again. We were on another part of this earlier, the previous day to the north after Giant Ledge. The Long Path turned left to follow it, as did we.

Most of this trail section was an old woods road, although some places it was not very recognizable as such. The further we went on the trail, the more noticable it was that it had been a road once. It was mostly a gradual down hill, and so it was pleasant, easy walking. There was still a lot of moss and ferns. As we continued to descend, we got along a gorge, which was the beginning of the East Branch of the Neversink River. Once the branches come together, they join the Delaware in Port Jervis. I'd hiked along the Neversink a lot, so this was another one that was cool to be along in it's head waters. The gorge got deeper to the left of us while the trail lost elevation slower, so we were high above the floor of the gorge. The trees became larger and predominantly second growth Hemlock. Dried springs we crossed soon became larger ones flowing well. We were low on water, but would have enough to finish the trip, and if not we could treat some from the springs or river.

We came to a point finally where the Long Path turned left to head toward Peekamoose. This was also the eastern terminus of the Finger Lakes Trail. I was happy to be using this for the remainder of the trip, because it's just another long distance trail we can add to the "to do" list. Looking at the maps of it's length looks really really cool. I can't wait to connect the Long Path with previous places I've been.

We continued along the trail, still part of the Phoenicia-East Branch Trail to the southwest. The woods road became more used, and the trail left the Slide Mountain wilderness, entered private land with a landowner agreement. The trail went back into the wilderness, then out of it finally on a somewhat used woods road, maybe for timbering.

The woods road finally emerged at a parking area on Denning Road with another trail register. The trail route continued on the road from that point. The yellow DEC discs for Phoenicia East Branch Trail continued, as did the route of Finger Lakes Trail.

It was starting to get dark, but we were now in open fields on a beautiful, pleasant dirt road walking southwest. It reminded me a bit of past hikes on the Conestoga Trail or something. Road walks don't bother me a whole lot, especially if they are like Denning Road.

We passed a home and some old barns, all vacant, but grounds were kept well. The signs read that the land belonged to someone named Tison. There was a huge mansion on the right, with curved corner sections like an Asian villa of some sort. Maybe it was historic, maybe not.

We continued on the road out of the fields and into a shaded glen, which became a bit narrower. The Neversink River came closer to the dirt road, which wound it's way gradually down, and across other tributaries. I found a DEC camp site along the trail route and the shore of the river a bit further down, and that would be our destination for the night. It wasn't very far and seemed to promise to be an excellent final night for us.The road became mostly paved just around this area, but still narrow and pleasant.

We passed the entrance to a part of Frost Valley YMCA, and just after it the DEC camp site was on the left. There was a sign reading "Trail To Claryville, 5.5 miles" on a tree. I was so happy to see that we were not only where I wanted to finish the day, but an easy place for Craig to pick us up the next day.Jillane wandered the camp site to find a spot to set up the tent. I would have been happy anywhere at that point, because I just wanted to go get in the water and clean up my overly sweaty body that just crossed three high peaks without a shower. The water was cold and almost unbearable, but it was great to clean off.

The Neversink was looking strange, like most all of the rivers that had recently flooded. The flow of the river was small, but the entire shore in the flood plain sides of all the rivers was wide and rocky. Apparently all weeds had been washed down stream in the last flood. The flood plain was just a wide, bare rocky area with only a few small plants growing through. I couldn't see it all that well since it was getting dark.

I preferred to just get in the tent anyway. The site seemed too good to be true, even for me. It was right along the road, which sucked, but not all that many cars went by, and the few that did were probably going to the YMCA camp. I was just expecting that some DEC official would come by and tell us we couldn't camp, but they didn't, and they wouldn't, because it was all legal and a legit camp site.

Jillane and I sat up for a while, and she shared with me the remainder of her gold fish crackers, not many left, and a third of a remaining mint chocolate clif bar. It was enough to carry us through the night till morning. Our food was gone.

We could hear coyotes howling close by as we went to sleep, but none came near to the site as we could tell.

DAY 9

This wouldn't be so much of a hiking day, just exploring around the camp site.

I got up early and wandered around the site, explored both sides of the road, and up and down the stream. Opposite side of the road had a couple tributaries, small creeks coming to the East Branch. The one crossed at an angle and went up stream parallel with the river, and then entered it. When I walked up stream, I could see that the flood had opened a new channel, changing the route of the stream to the East Branch, but that someone had driven in there with a bulldozer and closed the channel back off with river rocks. I could hear voices from the camp there and so I turned back. I walked further down stream, and there was a wider pool at a dramatic bend in the river. There was a lot of debris at the wide area, and I can see how it impounded the water behind it, causing some of the bad flooding we saw. There was a lot of debris around. Large pieces of wood were everywhere, and on the other side of the road along the stream were large chunks of broken asphalt.

The camp site had some very large old white pines in it, and some good sized hemlocks as well. Jillane got up and cleaned up in the river, and we packed up our things. I stayed pacing out on the road/trail for Craig when he showed up while she explored a lot of what I had. She found another trail across the river from us.

There is still so much more to explore out there. We were both sad that the trip was coming to an end.

Around noon Craig showed up to rescue us from the wilds.

He drove us north, showed us his place near Roxbury, and gave us a scenic tour drive of the area complete with history. It was a great way to finish off the trip.

Jillane's car was still fine in Bloomville, and we went back to retrieve our books we had left in Hobart. We drove home by way of Prattsville, and the towns of Hunter and Tannersville. There is still so much more to see out there.

Even in less than 9 days, backpacking becomes a way of life that's hard to shake when we return. We can't wait to get out and do some more.