Thinking Globally, Acting Locally

As far as cliches go, almost none have been bandied around quite like the '80s adage, "think globally, act locally." Well it might best suit us New Jerseans to think a little more locally to the solution of a global problem.

Global warming has been a villain straight out of a science fiction movie. It slowly destroys continents and shorelines like a revolting blob. It seems like we'll all be owners of beach front property within the next century, if not sooner, and some nations could be obliterated from the map.

Hikers in New Jersey might feel a bit vindicated by what I might say next: it is indeed getting way hotter on our trails. However, much to the chagrin of those Prius-driving environmental types amongst us, the problem for us isn't the changing atmosphere. Our problems are more obvious and immediate, yet the fight for global warming has led us a bit astray.

So what are the real problems with our environment in New Jersey? The two major reasons are the largest barricades to our environmental stability are obvious to those familiar with them, but far different from the overall panic presented by global warming:

• Urban heat - Urban Centers are by definition hot. So hot, indeed, that they can presage the overall effects of global warming decades before we feel them. Living in the corridor of humanity that makes up the northeast makes us a bit more vulnerable, check out the heat signature put out by the urban centers of the Mid-Atlantic States (image courtesy of predictions by NASA'S Land Information System [LIS] in June 2001, processed by NASA World Wind). Simply by showing the tempurature difference between the radically different environments of farmland vs. urban centers shows us a problem of vital concern to New Jersey, home of the highest population in America
• Local pollution - The concept of the Superfund site was created in New York, at Love Canal, in 1980. Some 30 years later, there are more Superfund sites in New Jersey than in any other state. These sites provide a far more immediate and chilling impact than the more gradual negative effects of warming. The air in central New Jersey, especially in close proximity to the chemical industries along the Raritan Bay, is filled with nasty stuff like toluene, xylene and MTBE. Not only have these chemicals proven to be hazardous, they've also not been fully studied, though it doesn't take a chemical engineer to deduce that breathing carcinogens on a regular basis is less than ideal for a normal person.

Gettysburg

It seems like one of the best ways to have a parcel of land remain open is to have a bunch of people killed on it. In New Jersey the parks of the Northern Watchung range (like Jockey Hollow and Morristown) began as battlefields and interpretive centers and evolved into the multi use parks they are today. Battlefields make great hiking parks, and hiking the terrain of a park can make one fully appreciate the tactical advantages and disadvantages of each park. At Gettysburg the terrain advantages are obvious, and the temperature disadvantage is apparent if hiked in the middle of July like the armies did. This part of Pennsylvania is ski country in the winter, yet in the summer triple digit temperatures are a regular occurrence.

Gettysburg, a bit of a haul from our usual stomping grounds (some 3 hours away from Edison), seems like a totally different country than suburban New Jersey. The restaurants change from Stewarts Root Beer and Panera to Hoss's Steak House and Red Robin. The view changes from skyline to rolling hills. Most importantly, the sporting goods shops are bigger and packed with cheap, cheap goodies.

It's also very quiet out in this little slice of Americana: the population of Gettysburg remains about even with the number of dead from the battle some century and a half after Pickett's Charge. The trail itself is a walk back in history that nicely circumvents a large portion of the overdeveloped and monument-pocked roads. Starting roughly at the visitor's center and the copse of trees that may or may not mark the high water mark of the Confederacy (ask a tour guide for a lengthy response), the trail goes south towards the Round Tops. Staying on the eastward side of Hancock Avenue, the trail follows the road and eventually jogs off into the more heavily wooded road paralleling Sedgwick Ave. While the road tends to stay to the north side of the peak the trail stays to the south, looping around Big Round Top in a loop that keeps the hiker in the precious, precious shade.

The trail continues east to the Confederate line of battle and up Warfield Ridge, into the woods. While the auto tour covers the region between the two hills (long considered the bloodiest regions of Gettysburg) the hike circumvents it. Instead it heads northbound to the Virginia Memorial, with its statue to Lee providing a strong counterpoint to the statue of Grant on the Union Lines.

The hike across this farmland, barren of trees as it was in the 1860s, is one of the most profound experiences available to any hiker. The field made famous by Pickett's Charge, is not the flat field envisioned by most people prior to visiting Gettysburg. There is a feeling of foreboding felt when marching upon the long-silent Union guns. The trail follows the path of the 12,500 Confederate troops that stepped off from Seminary Ridge. Conventionally, the walk across the field ends at The Angle, where Cushing's Battery met the full brunt of Armistad and Garnett's brigades. Within a few yards of each other are the resting grounds of those two Confederate generals who were killed breaching the Yankee position. All 15 of the regimental commanders under Pickett would be lost that day, representing the finest practical military officers of their day, as comfortable leading a charge against a fortified position as providing an effective defense against such an attack.

The counterpoint to the Angle and its grim monuments, the Bryan House offers a far more fulfilling end to a hike at Gettysburg. The Bryan House, located directly between The Angle and the Visitor's Center, marks the furthest advance of the northern section of the Confederate advance, With gallantry typical of the Confederate military the 11th Mississippi breached the Union defenses right at this wall. The flag changed hands at least four times as carrier after carrier was lost to canister and bullet alike. At the wall right by the monument their flag fell for the last time that day. The story that makes this location so significant in comparison to The Angle is the owner of the land. On that day in 1863 the Bryan House was owned and operated by a free slave, one Abraham Bryan. So, in effect, one could say that the last legitimate hope of the Confederate died on the property of a freed slave.

Dayhiking Ramapo Reservation

When we think of parks we like to hike we usually think that the more isolated the location the better. After all, most of us hike to escape the constant jam of people and stress associated with society. Yet parks remain popular for a reason. Ramapo Mountain Reservation, just down the street from my alma mater, Ramapo College of New Jersey.

The Ramapo Mountains serve as sort of a halfway point between the lower, more eroded Watchung Mountains that dominate Piedmont New Jersey up to Patterson, and the higher and more technically challenging Hudson Highlands. The Appalachians themselves are structurally different here than the terrain directly south. This is the beginning of the "ridge and valley" region of the Appalachians. The result is a happy compromise between the two regions, offering the view associated with the Hudson Highlands with a far more forgiving grade.

The park contains a network of trails laid down by the New Jersey-New York Trail Commission (NYNJTC), which extend into the neighboring parks of Ringwood State Park and Ramapo Mountain State Forest. Yet Ramapo offers a trail system that allow for hour-long loop hikes as well as overnight hikes. The Ramapo River is by far the highlight of the park, winding its way just far enough away from Route 202 to provide isolation yet close enough to be convenient for a lunch break. Parts of the river are deep enough to merit waders, some can be crossed without removing one's boots if the water level is low enough. Wildlife abounds both on the grassy meadows and in the water itself.

Now let's get this straight, Ramapo Mountain isn't Storm King or Breakneck Ridge. The trail is only moderately difficult, though going up the main elevation towards the reservoir one has a choice between a vehicle road and a far more rugged footpath. Yet the majority of hikes throughout the park can be done with a dog or small children, or with a particularly heavy load which makes Ramapo ideal for first time overnight trips and gear testing.

Note that the first picture isn't of Ramapo Reservation but is rather of the Arch at Ramapo College. Ramapo College is the literal next door neighbor of the Reservation, and you can usually count on running into a group of students as long as class is in session.

Delaware And Raritan Canal

The Delaware and Raritan Canal is one of the best-preserved and lasting vestiges of the Industrial Revolution in New Jersey. Throughout its storied past it provided a direct freight link between the coal-producing regions of Pennsylvania with the industrial powerhouse of New York. The story of the Canal is the story of the evolution of trade and transportation in the Northeast United States during the period of its most rapid expansion, and the vital supplies provided by the canal helped fuel the dynamic growth of the antebellum North. Yet the canal is more than that. The story of the canal is the story of early America: of immigration and labor, of the development of interstate trade, of a nation obsessed with development and expansion, of Prohibition, and of war. And, if we look close enough, the canal can tell us of the America of today; of a country facing a delicate balance of energy dependency and effective transportation yet still attempting to remember our past.

Our journey along the canal starts at New Brunswick, under the Landing Lane Bridge that spans across the Raritan. The towpath itself was not designed for hikers such as us; rather it was designed for work crews and mules. Throughout the hundred-year span of the canal’s operation, it was the best way to transport large amounts of goods across New Jersey. The canal had several advantages over the few alternate routes available to those interested in moving freight. First, the alternate routes were costly and sometimes very dangerous. Coal had to be first moved from the plentiful coalfields of Pennsylvania to the major port city of Philadelphia, where it would be loaded onto barges and taken down the Delaware. From there it would have to move from the relative safety of the Delaware to the far more deadly sea route around Cape May, along the Atlantic Coast, and up the barrier islands of New Jersey to East Coast ports hungry for coal. The Jersey Shore and Long Island Sound is littered with hundreds of unnamed wrecks of schooner barges still laden with coal – lost in numerous storms, collisions, and other acts of god.

The opening of the canal coincided with the period of rapid industrialization that sent the United States to the forefront of the world economy in the late 19^th century. A mule that could only pull a few hundred pounds on land was capable of hauling hundreds of tons through the canal, and the advent of the steam engine some ten years after the canal officially opened only boosted the amount of freight that could be carried to market. By the time of the civil war most of the coal used to fuel the Industrial Revolution in New York had to pass through the locks of the D&R Canal.

The D&R Canal itself runs through a largely agrarian landscape. This is in conflict with the point at which the canal joins the Raritan, which sits within comfortable walking distance of Rutgers University. Here the canal has adapted with the times, running underneath the Route 18 extension as it has since it was routed underground in 1984. Yet things change dramatically by the time one has walked only ten miles away from the start of the towpath into Bound Brook. Though the town proper of Bound Brook lies only a mile or so away from this point of the river the atmosphere is decidedly bucolic, and it tends to remain that way all the way to Princeton. The farms here were the ones that helped support Continental troops as they fought for independence in the Revolutionary War.

Right in the middle of this farmland is a reminder that while New Jersey is a blue state, the religious right remains alive and well in some enclaves. Somerset County’s Zarephath is a Pentecostal religious community with its own exit off of Route 287. Formed in 1901 by Alma White, the Pillar of Fire church relocated here from Denver, Colorado in 1907 and have been teaching bible worship here ever since. At one point the college was an accredited four-year university, but since the 1970s this particular sect has cut itself off from the outside world, preferring to stay on their land and pay any of their bills using farming revenue. There is even a radio station on campus, broadcasting contemporary Christian music and talk radio throughout the tri-state area. Despite all the outreach the church has made, walking through their compound on a Sunday draws a lot of looks that make one feel a lot less than welcome. Perhaps it is their theology of the corruption brought about by our society and the need to repent on Sundays that makes them so recalcitrant, yet nevertheless there is a distinct air about Zarephath that conveys a “less time spent here the better” message to the casual hiker.

One of the major draws of the canal route is to examine the actual machinery that made the canal a success. All along the route are spillways which helped control the water level and kept it flowing in a roughly easterly direction to facilitate trade. If one feels particularly adventurous one could walk across them. Of course, if one chooses to do this at the inopportune time then one can be rapidly caught in a situation that makes a nice, normal hike into a Discovery Channel special, such as just before a thunderstorm as this particular author did. Along with the spillways are gates that vent the tremendous amount of water held in the canal into the Raritan. The actual lock houses which housed the lockmasters and their families are still mostly intact, and two have been put on the National Historic Register.

Our journey ends with Carnegie Lake in Princeton. If one has any question about the power of industrialists during the 20^th century one only has to look at Lake Carnegie. Bought singlehandedly by investors and Princeton alumni, Lake Carnegie was built not to add natural beauty to the area but to give Princeton a place for their crew team to practice without having to go on the too-fast Raritan or too-busy D&R Canal. The lake was built with no regard to the flood plan of the area or nearby sewage systems emptying into the Millstone River and is now not the ideal picnicking spot for Princeton students. However, to not build the lake was to defy Andrew Carnegie’s plan to provide a lake for Princeton, and was thus unthinkable – after all if Carnegie’s fortune existed today it would represent three times the wealth Bill Gates has accrued through Microsoft.

To conclude, we travel back to Bound Brook to look across the trestle bridge that spans the Raritan. Several times a day trains loaded with freight amble past this very picturesque slice of the Garden State, destined eastbound along the rails laid by the United New Jersey Railroad and Canal Company. By the 1870s it was obvious that railroads were a faster mode of transportation then the canal. However, neither the canal nor the state (which had invested the equivalent of millions of dollars in the canal project) was interested in dealing with any competition that would emerge from laying down a rail line that offered the same route as the canal. As a result, the company merged with a bunch of private railroading firms who had taken the initiative to lay down track and leased out a line running exactly parallel with the main canal through the Pennsylvania Railroad. The company formed would eventually build the great railroad lines of New Jersey and greatly contribute to the rail network that links our state today: the stretch of line running from Trenton north is now part of America’s busiest rail corridor, Amtrak’s famed “Northeast Corridor,” the Princeton Branch operates at the behest of New Jersey Transit, PATH trains run along an active freight line placed to transport freight parallel to the Northeast Corridor, and Conrail still maintains the freight lines which run alongside the quiet Raritan. The canal was no match for the powerful conglomerated companies which would lay their lines from Washington, D.C. to Boston and all points in between. Their legacy lies in the frequently overlooked colossal construction projects which mark their major hubs: Penn Station in New York, Broad Street in Philadelphia, Union Station in Washington, and Union Station in Chicago come to mind. By the 1930s the jig was up on the canal, which had more than paid for itself by its close. The canal was abandoned by the companies that built it but instead of being developed, it was absorbed by the 1970s into New Jersey’s Division of Parks and Forestry. It is now central to an argument about the use of public space throughout the United States as it has proven the concept of a “greenway” project, or a strip of ecologically interesting area that serves as a multi use trail and provide its own buffer zone to prevent commercial use of the projects assets – assets such as development or reclamation that run counterproductive to the evolution of a true greenway project. These projects have come into an unexpected enemy as others saw the Greenway as an excuse to preserve the middle class communities that have sprung out around them. Thanks to naysayers like Tim Hartford, the Greenway method has come under fire despite the noble cause to expand their Greenways across the country, making linear stretches of unusable canal into parkland and connecting them to create an interstate system of greenways for enjoyment, much as the Appalachian Trail has opened the East Coast to the concept of one challenging hiking trail for the enjoyment of both day hikers and serious enthusiasts. Hartford argues that these Greenways only seek to maintain suburban communities as they are by preventing large swaths of area from being developed upon. Another argument is that Greenways induce strange patterns of urban sprawl as people seek to settle in cities that need to expand and can’t follow the natural path of expansion because it is protected by a Greenway. Greenways are also by definition harder to transverse for non-hikers and can damage efforts at public transportation to some extent. However, just sitting in Bound Brook “at the banks of the old Raritan” as it were, it’s hard to argue with the forgotten natural beauty of the Raritan and agree with those who want a green way. It’s a rare jewel, a slice of calm heaven and clean air within a three hour walking distance of a nice, tasty grease truck sandwich on State Street in New Brunswick.

Only in New Jersey could such things be possible.

The gravel and cobblestones can be a bit harsh on feet, unless you have a really high-impact insole. Yet the trail has almost zero elevation because it runs alongside the river. Bring a couple of cars unless you intend on turning around, and watch out for the weather, it can come up fast and with little warning because of the canopy - though the canopy does keep inclement weather away from the sides and provides shade on sunnier days.

High Point & Kittatinny

Finally we were able to get together a large group hike to tackle the punishing loop that makes up the lower part of High Point State Park, a quick jog along the spine of New Jersey's Highlands that begins and ends with the base to the park but doesn't actually climb the hill. The weather was spotty, sometimes with mist and low clouds restricting visibility on what should have been some breathtaking views of the Delaware River Valley. We also took this hike very early in the year for High Point - we were far too early to see the blooms of wildflowers that make this park so popular. However we decided to visit a park most of us have never been to that was challenging enough without being Brokeneck Ridge. We also made our decision based on the recent controversy over keeping the park open as a part of state cutbacks on park and wildlife spending. Scramble to see this and several other parks like Round Valley while you still can, there's a possibility that they might not be around for much longer.

Instead what we got was a pleasant (if rocky) exposure to a typical stretch of Northeastern Appalachian Trail and a far more lenient return on a multiuse trail. The parking lot closest to the trailhead is just south (and within eyesight of) the nature center. The nature center is useful for getting current weather, read up on the scouting history of the area (I went to Camp KMSR up here when I was a Boy Scout...probably fishing more than earning merit badges but having fun anyways), and grab some useful maps. Then it's time to blaze the trail. Park in the gravel lot with the AT Hiker signs on it. The majority of your walking experience today will be along the AT in all it's ankle-breaking glory. The trail only gets steep enough to slow you down in one or two patches - according to tom after I got to the top of the first one of these i looked like death iced over so there are some spots to exert yourself.

Follow the AT south (away from High Point). Within a hundred paces away from the roadside the landscaping job done by the sons of the great Frederick Law Olmsted of Central Park and Chicago World's Fair fame. The AT is as rough as it is in a hundred different spots in New Jersey: 100 to 200 foot sets of crests and valleys with as straight a path etched through it as possible. The ground is semi-level granite, have good, high top hiking shoes in order to prevent turned ankles and bruised egos. The nastiest bit of climbing (mentioned before in my aforementioned cardiac-arrest worthy appearance) is a five-to-ten minute scramble to get up a bluff. The view on top is worth it, though, especially with the easy-on-the eyes hikers we had with us this day.

Going south on the AT provides great views to the left downhill to a lake. If it's warm out (as it sort of was when we got on the trail) the lake provides a cool breeze that helps keep the gnats and flies away. However, if you stop you'll get to meet the smallest denizens of New Jersey's highlands en masse as they emerge from the woods to feed upon unwary hikers. Bring bug spray.

If one is inclined one can visit the Rutherford AT Shelter. We didn't, preferring to get our hike complete in as direct a route as possible as quickly as possible. We chose to lunch instead at the intersection of the Iris and AT in a very visible four way intersection. There are some rocks to sit down upon if one feels inclined and inclined we felt after our completion of the ankle-smashing portion of the trail.

The Iris Trail is far less brutal then the AT (follow it right and along the back of the ridge you were just summiting on the AT) but it also lacks the majestic views. There are some points of interest on the trail, though. At one point you can see the terracing of old farms that define the edge of the trail. The other major draw is Lake Rutherford which you will hike around for the majority of the return trail. By this point in the day we started to slow down and the weather seemed cooler coming off the lake - a welcome reprieve during the summer without doubt but a chilly reminder that we aren't that far away from winter on this particular April Day. The views, however, are pretty breathtaking for New Jersey, without a soul in sight this lake could be anywhere in New England, not a mere stones throw away from Sussex County, NJ.

Count the bridges to know how close you are to your goal of the parking lot: the first bridge over a small brook is a nice place to sit down over moving water and avoid the flies and mosquitoes that call the swampy area home. Shortly after the bridge comes the best view during the return portion of the hike: a rocky outcropping offering a beautiful view of Lake Rutherford.

Ticks were a problem this time. I found two on my bag but none had gone through. I've already had Lyme's Disease and trust me - you don't want the hassle of getting it. On the bright side though we only saw about 10 other hikers all day despite decent weather.

Now, if you want to get really, truly high you can do High Point. We did by car. Not because we were lazy but...well ok we were lazy. But the trail to High Point looks like a killer and nobody was having any of that by the end of the day. Feel free to sit in wonder of the huge bronze doors and be more in wonder that someone managed to steal one of them and get away with it. Here's a picture of our hiking group trying to unwind after taking the entire trail in the span of six hours with multiple lunch breaks and me solidly bringing up the rear (we all need to know our place, I think of it as getting more peace and quiet than the rest of my hiking buddies and enjoying nature on my own.

All in all a fun hike with a bunch of options for those more adventurous than us, or at least with a little more time and better bug spray.

The next trail will probably be a 20 mile level point to point trail from Bound Brook to Princeton along the Railroad Canal. Until then expect a report on the Edison Greenways Project that is hoping to add some natural wonder to our suburban sprawl.

Oh, and if there is any question to how rough this trail can be on ankles I included a picture of my right sock for posterity.

Hiking Local

One of the truly great things about hiking in New Jersey is the fact that you probably live within a couple minutes of a really good hiking spot you probably don't know anything about. For me, that spot is Cheesequake State Park. Cheesequake is a real low stress trail best tackled at full speed, and that's exactly what Pete and I did this week, hiking three of the four major trails that snake through this oft-overlooked slice of New Jersey.

Cheesequake is a silent haven this time of year. Come concert season, Cheesequake is one of the most popular destinations for PNC concertgoers not willing to pay for a hotel room. So, enjoy the solace while you can. That being said, you'll probably run into other people on the trail Cheesequake is Middlesex County's only state park, so there are always people willing to hike its extremely well established trails. The trails are short, none over 3.5 miles in length, but for the day hiker, the trails are godsends. They're all loops, so if you get back to the parking lot prior to your intended return time, feel free to hike another. Winter is also the best time to see the cedar swamps, at least in my opinion. It's like a mini Pine Barrens, and the lessened crowds allow for some quality time amongst the trees.

Wildlife can be found all over Cheesequake. Deer are all over the place, but by far the most numerous denizens of the park are crabs. Yep, crabs. Delicious, nutritious crabs. The shallow swamps of Cheesequake yield some impressive specimens, and the bridges around the park offer some opportunities to earn a tasty shellfish dinner. Just make sure you don't fall in and pull a Hoffa.

Expect pictures later in the week. My laptop died (along with my card reader) so we're gonna have to wait for a second on them.

Update, Cheesequake with Pete:

Monkey Wrench

Sometimes the best laid plans can be undone by the simplest means. Apparently the weather god has frowned upon our hiking plans next weekend, as our trip would be prefaced by some of the worst weather we've seen all year, along with some truly brutal temperatures. So, I think our next hike won't be either of the two options we talked about yesterday. As an added bonus, the Giants have trumped the Bucs to edge their way into the playoffs. I'm a Bears fan myself, but I was raised a Giants fan and two of our hikers (Pete and Ian) are loyal to the Giants cause, so if they win this week, we'll probably have to stay close to home so we can watch the next game.

An added weather related note to anyone going hiking this weekend: there's going to be a very nasty looking Nor'easter coming through, and depending on how the low pressure systems meet, parts of NJ could be looking at about 6 inches of snow, possibly more if the southern low pressure system doesn't strengthen enough to block the strong, cold low pressure system sweeping in from the north. That also means that hikers that have planned to do trips bordering the shore or large bodies of tidal water like Sandy Hook or the Palisades Trail will be met with the characteristic shore-to-land winds that follow Nor'easters. I mean, I really doubt there would be many hikers out this weekend anyway, with the extremely cold conditions that are predicted, but still, if you plan to go, you might want to reconsider.

Let it snow!

Straight Chillin Wit My Set

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta. Photo courtesy of Ian.

Decisons, Decisions

Just to prove that we never sleep here at Garden State Hiking, we're going to talk about the plans for some upcoming hikes in our itinerary: a trip to Breakneck Ridge near Beacon, NY, and a field trip to Pennsylvania to pick up some gear at Cabela's in Hamburg, PA and see a friend in nearby Tamaqua - during which we'll probably hike the nearby section of the AT.

Breakneck Ridge is a trail that's been gaining a whole lot of popularity. The name itself gives you a gauge of what to expect when you hike it. The trail gains the majority of its substantial 1,260 vertical height in a challenging 1/8 mile scramble towards the very beginning followed by a moderately vigorous loop that extends almost to Beacon Mountain. That being said, there are some options for hikers who don't think they're up to the challenge of the initial trail scramble. While the other three hikers I'm with will invariably want to do the harder trail, I'm probably going to wuss out and hike the trail usually reserved for people descending the hill, a feat made almost an impossibility considering the grade of Breakneck Trail. A nice loop extends from the bottom of the mountain up the yellow Wilkinson Memorial Trail to the red Breakneck Bypass trail cuts out the majority of the real rough section. Once the Breakneck Bypass trail ends at the white Breakneck Trail all one has to do is hike north until the trail merges with the blue Notch Trail, walk to the base of Sunset Point follow the Notch Trail back to the Wilkinson Trail, and follow that over Sugarloaf Mountain and down to the parking lot. All in all, a pretty nice, promising trail.

Pennsylvania's Appalachian Trail features a bit more isolation than one normally gets in New Jersey. New Jersey trails tend to not only draw in natives of the state, but also New Yorkers looking for an escape from the concrete jungle for a while. Nothing against New Yorkers, but this tends to clog trails on the weekends, even during the winer. Central Pennsylvania, on the other hand, tends to be a lot quieter in the off season. Of course, it is a bit of a haul, about two hours worth of solid driving, meaning that it's too far out of the way for most New Jersey day hikers. It would be real hard for us to pass up on this seclusion when we go out to visit a friend out here (who also happens to live within a reasonable distance of Cabela's...a real boon for the average New Jersey hiker, who has to deal with some really pricey hiking stores). Cabela's happens to be within three miles of one of the top rated sections of the AT too, the Pinnacle, which offers great views of the Blue Rocks, the Lehigh Valley, and nearby Hawk Mountain, a hot spot for birdwatchers looking to see eagles and other raptors during their migrations. Unfortunately, the season to see them is pretty much over by this point, though you never know.

Also disappointing is the fact that one of the most spectacular parks in Pennsylvania, Ricketts Glen State Park, has already closed its Falls Trail Loop for the season to everyone except experienced hikers carrying ice gear. In the summer, this trail is one of the most exciting to hike in the nation, leading past 22 named and numerous other unnamed waterfalls.

Stay tuned as we plan out the next hike, and review some of the new gear we've been using. Stay tuned for a quick heads up on our latest footwear buys, including Ian's new pair of Merrell mid-hikers and my new Columbia Sportswear highs.

P.S. -If you do decide to visit thr Pinnacle in Pennsylvania,be sure to check out this website: http://www.harpweb.com/thepinnacle/. It's the best resource online for this scenic hike.

Welcome to Garden State Hiking!

Hi everybody! If you didn't know already (chances are you did if you got to this blog) my name is Ross, and I hike. Or at least I used to. Once upon a time (i.e. before college) I was really into the whole sport of hiking. I hiked most of the major trails in New Jersey by that point, and had done some overnights in New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania thanks mostly to the fact that I was a Boy Scout. However, my hiking career came to a pretty abrupt and sudden end with a pretty severe injury to my ankle during the longest hike I have ever completed, a true monster of a trail in New Mexico. A few years passed, and I ruined my ankle another time, eventually requiring surgery in February of 2007.

You can't keep a person who hears the call of the wild off the trail for too long. Thankfully, I have a very understanding and enthusiastic group of friends who helped get me back on my feet (special thanks to my hiking buddies, my friends up at Ramapo College, the always fantastic Edison crew, Tom's three chicks, the kindly folks at Wegmans, Victoria, and as always, Johnny). I also had a fantastic surgeon who I would recommend to anyone who needs foot or ankle care, Dr. Ramos who works under the always kind tutelage of Dr. Roche at North Edison Podiatry. And, of course, my parents, who have patiently put up with me as I've recovered. Much love to all you guys.

With this support system, I've gotten back my ability to hike. This website is a way for me to let people know that yes, we do have trails in the New Jersey area that are every bit as fun and challenging as states we more frequently associate with trails. I'll post the trails me and my group of hiking friends do as we do them (though you might need to wait a day or two for me to fully recover first). I'll also write about points of interest as they come up, like issues involving the environment in this region, the weather for hiking, advice and tips, and gear reviews.

Bear Mountain State Park

This was the first hike in which all three of the Edison hiking team would come with me: Ian, Pete and Tom. If they are separate, they are quiet, reserved guys (except Tom). If they are together, they are a crazed pack of lunatics (especially Tom). So, it seemed fitting that I was taking them on one of the hardest hikes that I've attempted to do in a very, very long time: Bear Mountain. During this adventure we would experience the joys of nature in ways previously unfathomable by common man. By the end we would all have fallen down at least once, some (me) many, many more times than many and others (Pete) in a matter that could only be described as spectacular. We also would tackle the worst grade of trail short of mountain climbing, a YDS Class III romp from Hessian Lake all the way up Bear Mountain. I would throw up. Ian would show his world-class rock skipping talents.

This, kind folks, is what hiking is all about.

The ride was kindly provided by my mother with the promise that we would take her out to dinner for taking up her time. Thankfully, she's retired and has nothing better to do with her time, but hey it was really nice of her anyways. So, at the bright, fresh hour of "what the hell time is it?!?!" we set off. Bear Mountain is easily accessible by taking 287 all the way north to New York State then switching to the Palisade Interstate Parkway, thus also bypassing the toll bridge that spans the Hudson. Or if you want you can take the Garden State Parkway all the way up to the Palisades Parkway and punch a few minutes off the time. Regardless, the first thing you encounter at Bear Mountain is the Bear Mountain Inn. Yes, you do have to pay for parking if you drove up here. Sometimes you can luck out, however, and get in for free. The area of Bear Mountain by the Hudson River is one of the most historically significant areas of the northeast. Several battles were fought here, and Hessian Lake was so named because of Americans dumping the bodies of the Hessian mercenaries into it - according to a park employee. In addition, West Point lies only about one or two miles upstream from this point. Another fun fact: according to local lore, two weeks after visiting a Boy Scout camp on the east bank of Hessian Lake, FDR was struck by the disease that would later partially cripple him. This means that he probably caught it here. Who says history can't be fun?

If it is a relatively clear day (it wasn't when we hiked) you can look up, and up, and up the hill you are about to climb. The peak of Bear Mountain is about 1,305 feet above sea level. If you start your hike in the parking lot, you are at about 250 feet (give or take, I forgot to write down my GPS readings) above sea level. That being said, if you take the white bar & red circle blazed Major Welch Trail, you'll make the 1,000+ foot climb in the matter of two miles. If you aren't in decent physical shape this trail will punish you severely. If you're not at least a halfway decent hiker, you'll end up getting hurt. DO NOT TRY THIS IF YOU'RE NOT READY FOR IT. You will end up stranded on the side of a hill with no hope of getting down. Also, if you do hike, especially in winter, don't hike solo. Teamwork is almost a requirement to get over some of the patches of ice. This trail also demands hiking boots, not trail running gear, unless you happen to be a mountain climber. All that said, we ascended the east side relatively fast. The trail itself is exceptionally well blazed, and you won't get lost. However, you'll wonder how the hell the person who blazed the trail saw a trail sometimes. Giant slabs of rock worn smooth by erosion and somewhat haphazard drainage dominate large portions of the ascent.

Now, by this point I wasn't feeling great. Part of this was motion sickness from the ride up, part is because I'm not really a morning person, and part is the orange juice that I was downing on my way up the trail. It also didn't help that everyone else, cramped from the car ride and invigorated from the hour or so of sleep they caught on the way up were flying up the trail with maximum speed. Ian noticed that by the halfway point up the mountain I was as white as a sheet, and having problems keeping my balance. I sat down at the first of two or three major summit points, and put my head between my legs. Then I blazed my own orange trail. As a disclaimer, I'd like to apologize to anyone who had the misfortune of coming across this, and I can only hope the rain that fell that night helped remove the evidence of my lack of intestinal fortitude. I'd also like to thank Tom, Pete, and Ian for helping me get the hell on my feet and convincing me to close the loop.

This part of the trail is classified as a YDS (for Yosemite Decimal System) Class Three trail, or just below the point of needing climbing equipment to ensure a safe completion. It should also be noted that in the winter the mountain tends to ice over pretty thoroughly in places, and the ice and snow pack usually remains on the mountain weeks after the snow has disappeared below. I would not recommend coming down this side of the mountain in difficult conditions, as the possibility of losing your footing and dropping onto Route 9 is high. However, we managed to get to the top of this hill, cresting just at the Perkins Tower (which for all you wussy drivers is accessible by road). The tower is staffed and provides excellent views of the surrounding terrain and, on clear days, views reaching as far away as New York City. If you're truly lucky, you might see Tom doing his Howard Dean impression. BYAHHHHH!The descent is a bit easier than the ascent, though you should take careful stock of where you step at all times to prevent yourself from sliding right off the west face of Bear Mountain. You're still following the red Major Welch Trail. The trail here looks more like a trail found west of the Mississippi, with large expanses of open rock that need to be crossed and fantastic views to the southwest. If it wasn't for the New England foliage, I might have forgotten I was in New York. Eventually, you will end up at Perkins Drive, which also contains the Appalachian Trail. This trail will be your new best friend, leading you back into the woods after a short hike along the road. This is the oldest portion of the AT, conceived of by Benton MacKaye and established in the 1920s under the watchful eye of Major William Welch of the Palisades Interstate Park Commission, who lent his namesake to the red blazed trail we were just on. The trail was helped to completion by Arthur Perkins, who lent his namesake to the aforementioned tower. The AT snakes a path southwards through some semi-difficult terrain until it meets Seven Lakes Drive.

We were starting to get a bit tired and the sun was already starting to pass its high point in the sky. We knew that our original plan to hit West Mountain via the AT and Timp Torne Trail - several miles to the south by this point - and cut across the yellow Suffern/Bear Mountain Trail by dark was almost an absolute impossibility unless we really started to run. So we decided to cut across the historic 1777 Trail East along a branch of the Doodletown Brook. According to the same staff member as before, this trail was used by British troops to outflank and overrun two colonial forts in the region. Either way, the trail here is far more forgiving. After a little rest, we continued east on this trail and eventually (about a half a mile) made a left onto the Suffern/Bear Mountain Trail and eventually merging with the AT once again to make a yellow/white blaze pattern. This trail provides some good through-the-trees views of the Hudson Valley and the Bear Mountain Bridge. Truly some postcard moments. The trail nice and moderate here, with some ups and downs but not enough to make you feel like you're not going to finish. We crossed over the top of the resort, past a ski jump that almost got this place picked over Lake Placid to host the 1932 Winter Olympics. We then followed the trail down (well, some of us did) back to the parking lot.

This trail is a hell of a lot of fun. I'd suggest doing in the period of early spring when the temperature is high enough to ensure little ice on the trail, but still cool enough to keep the crowds that sometimes cripple Bear Mountain at home.