Tub Mill Falls

I answer the silent Siren call of waterfalls. I stumble upon them even when I'm not looking for them. There is one in Downsville, New York - a mini-town immediately downstream of the Pepacton Reservoir - called Tub Mills Falls.

An early settler by the name of William Rose, was the first to harness Tub Mills Falls water to power a mill. A sordid tale of the family's beginnings includes a mother that sent her son, who escaped from Native American captors, away from home lest he be tracked and the whole family placed in peril. The tale continues with William Rose Jr. walking the distance from Canada to Downsville following his discharge from military service after being forced to join the British Army.

The falls are a stop on Colchester Historical Society's interpretive history trail. There is a parking area just south of the historical marker.

 

* Lillian Browne works as a newspaper and travel magazine editor to fund her adventure habit - which she indulges every chance she gets. She is exploring the world around her, one step at a time, with her dog - Charlie. Follow her on Instagram or on Twitter @browneinwalton

Barkaboom's (Nearly) Hidden Surprise

Part of a quest to ascend Balsam Lake Mountain in Ulster County on the Delaware County border, led me to Barkaboom Road.
Don't bother looking for a road sign. There are none on the Delaware County side. You have to use gut instinct and sense of direction to travel west to east in these remote parts.
Deciding to  enjoy the drive and whatever sights I might see until I came to a road sign or marked intersection, I began to scan the landscape to get a sense of what the land may have once been used for and when that might have been.
There are scads of hayed fields viewable from the roadway, neatly nestled between field stone walls - ancient property line markers. Catching a glimpse of these walls always make me wonder how long they took to build - it was all done by hand - and who exactly built them. 
There is a 100 year lag in the the development of the area with its closest neighbor - Turnwood, NY, which is home to a trout hatchery, a Buddhist monastery and the headwaters of the famed Beaver Kill.
As the road narrowed and began to climb and snake, my focus became tight so as to not meet an oncoming vehicle head-on in the middle of the road. The guide rail hugged the pavement, leaving no shoulder as it teetered away from the edge of a ravine.  A reflective flash drew my attention to what appeared to be the churning froth of small waterfall - just the other side of the guide rail.
I parked at the top of a knoll, once the guide rail ceased duty and backtracked a quarter mile to find this phenomenal water feature.

There must have been, at one time, some type of mill. The skeletal remains of a stone wall built adjacent to the rock face straddles the stream. It is easy to envision the water being harnessed to do the work of a mule or a man.

My travel companion and partner in adventure - Charlie Browne

* Lillian Browne works as a newspaper and travel magazine editor to fund her adventure habit - which she indulges every chance she gets. She is exploring the world around her, one step at a time, with her dog - Charlie. Follow her on Instagram or on Twitter @browneinwalton

Lost at 3,700 Feet

Delaware County New York is notorious for its lack of cellphone service. High-ish peaks cut by pristine water formed gorges and valleys, combined with a small population base which discourages cellphone carriers to position towers for continuous connectivity are both a blessing and a curse - especially if you rely on the Google map app on a smartphone.
For those seeking to disconnect from technology and reconnect primitively with nature - Delaware County has it all. But - you better know where you are going.

Maps - the old fashioned kind, the ones that once unfolded are never to be folded in quite the same way again, can be helpful IF you can read them and ONLY IF you are lucky enough to find an actual road sign to tell you where you might be.

Fortune was on my side as I negotiated a "NYC Road" on the backside of the Pepacton - though the map called it a "BWS Road." I have lived in the area long enough to know that the nomenclature is synonymous - one referring to New York City - the keepers and owners of New York City's drinking water supply - the Pepacton and Cannonsville reservoirs, both positioned in Delaware County. The other - BWS - refers to Bureau of Water Supply which is the precursor to NYCDEP or New York City Department of Environmental Protection. This is the county of alphabet agency regulators. 

Balsam Lake Mountain is clearly marked on Catskill Park topographical maps, just over the Delaware County border into Ulster County. However, access roads are not. I eventually came to no-mans-land - Turnwood, New York, where there exists a family trout hatchery, a general store - the kinds that carries everyday necessities at citified prices, a zen monastery 

and The Quill Gordon. These are all necessary landmarks on the quest to Balsam Lake Mountain, the headwaters to the famed Beaver Kill. 

The Beaver Kill is the birthplace of American fly fishing and the landscape is tastefully adorned with an occasional restored farm house, complete with barn - horse or dairy cow - decommissioned and tastefully decorated in a visually non-offensive way.

Nearby Roscoe has capitalized on flash and tourist dollars associated with the recent designation of "Trout Town USA," but purist and hardcore trout fishing, specifically - fly fishing,  takes place just below the headwaters in Lew Beach, just oft Balsam Lake Mountain. There is no public access to these famed waters, however.  With rare exception, all of the real estate in the area has been purchased and posted by latecomers to the country life - those who have lots of money and don't want neighbors, or cellphone service to interrupt their weekend retreats.

A well-worn and easy to miss sign at the intersection of Beaverkill, Alder Lake and Shin Creek Roads points to the trail head - 7.8 miles away. Not a long distance on Beaverkill Road, until the road becomes one lane around blind curves where the Beaver Kill, feeling mighty in a spring storm several seasons ago, jumped its banks and ate the road for lunch. No one bothered to restore the road to two lanes. Orange traffic cones, quite visually offending,  provide a connect-the-dots guide in certain areas along the roadway, to the trail head.  

Extreme care must be taken while traveling this road, which soon divests itself of pavement, then of loose gravel to eventually offer itself up in a raw unrefined form of hard pack dirt, lest there is rain. If it's raining, don't travel this road to the trail head. The road becomes thick, slippery mud just dying to force you into a game of Chicken with unlikely oncoming traffic or the stream itself. The mud will win. The guide rails slid down the stream bank years ago also. No one has fixed them yet either.

If the road and remoteness don't discourage you, the trail will do it's best to succeed. The rocky, steep terrain is relentless. The climb, at times, feels vertical - though there was no actual scrambling involved. There is little time to appreciate the majestic hardwood forests filled with ancient maples, oaks and silver birch trees.

There is a welcomed and poetically timed fresh water spring at the second place one is sure to want to give up, turn around and head home. At this juncture, you have reached 3,500 feet in elevation.

Foolishly, you begin to believe, by a trick of the landscape, that you will crest the ridge of the mountain at any second. It is false hope, but after another couple of hundred yards - that feel like miles, balsam trees start to appear and the boulders become smaller. It is also there that the wind picks up and the weather changes. I hiked in at 40 degrees with a brilliant late-March sun shining high in the sky. As I approached the ridge, occasional patches of dusty snow became inches of snow and ice pack - and just like that - I was in Narnia.

It was like I stepped into Narnia!

 Everything was covered in snow as though it were late January.

It was soon after, a quarter-mile, that I stepped into a small clearing; and just like that, with no warning a fire tower, privy and caretaker cabin appeared in the small circular clearing.  My surprise and joy were short lived. There happens to be cellphone service at the peak of the mountain and I quickly snapped a selfie to prove I made it to the top.  The proof remains, but the temperature, 19 degrees at the cabin combined with sustained and gusting winds put an end to the usefulness of the phone.

The fire tower is the first lookout tower in New York and is on the National Register of Historic Places. The mountain tops out at 3,720 (grueling) feet and is one of The Catskills'  35 highest peaks. Once I am able to use my right knee again without discomfort, I'm going back.

* Lillian Browne works as a newspaper and travel magazine editor to fund her adventure habit - which she indulges every chance she gets. She is exploring the world around her, one step at a time, with her dog - Charlie. Follow her on Instagram or on Twitter @browneinwalton

New York's Longest Waterfall is in the Catskills : Kaaterskill Falls

An early morning drive alongside the roaring, angry waters of Esopus Creek on Route 28 in Ulster County deposited me onto the serpentine switchback of Route 214, just an hour outside of Delhi in Delaware County. The twisted, narrow roadway began in a funky little hamlet called Pheonicia which is a hodgepodge of hipster novelty shops and eateries enmeshed in a zone-free landscape that spans not one-half mile. It is unnecessary to exit your vehicle to view the abundance of mini-waterfalls that pepper Route 214, since the shoulder of the road abuts the banks of the creek.

The creek has gobbled up the road in numerous places, which highway crews simply refilled, paved and topped with new guide rail. The site is not unfamiliar in upstate New York where roads were built adjacent to waterways in a way that continues to baffle me.

Mother nature always wins an argument. Her rain-tears become raging rivers that will chew up and spit out up even the most sturdy of infrastructure.

In fierceness there is beauty. And that is where the waters of Kaaterskill Creek carved the bedrock to form the tallest waterfall in New York - Kaaterskill Falls.

Late March is the perfect time to view the falls, hiking to the top from North South Lake - a state maintained park.

 Due to a recent death at the top of the falls, a new footpath, fencing and viewing platform have been constructed on approach.

A view of Katterskill Falls from the viewing platform

The views are simply breathtaking.

There is evidence of erosion along the trail system, caused by hikers, bikers and adventurer seekers. Clearly the New York State Department of Environment Conservation hopes to thwart further erosion by keeping hikers trail bound.

At the top of the 260 foot waterfall, there is a trail that winds upstream to abandoned bridge abutment ruins where seasonal rain events ravaged saplings and soil on the stream banks.

Danger and caution signs are to be taken seriously, as is the beauty.

The view from the bottom, is as delicious as the view from the top

* Lillian Browne works as a newspaper and travel magazine editor to fund her adventure habit - which she indulges every chance she gets. She's exploring the world around her, one step at a time, with her dog - Charlie. Follow her on Instagram or on Twitter @browneinwalton