Loading...
February 21, 2002 - A chilly getaway in the CatskillsSA • The Suffolk Times • February 21, 2002 A chilly getaway T S FUMr i How SOME 'ens become closer to you than your own relatives. So it is with friends of ours who own a cabin up in the Catskills. We've been there before and so when they asked us to spend a winter week with them, FOCUS S we jumped at it, ON knowing that at this time of the NATURE year the Catskills by Paul can be a fairyland Stoutenburgh of white. We were disappointed on our drive up, for we saw no snow; then as we got to the higher elevations snow took over, much to our delight. Now the mountainsides and back yards were white with snow; evidently the temperature in the mountains had held onto the snow. As soon as we turned off the mod- ern paved highway that circles the huge Pepacton Reservoir and headed up toward the cabin, we felt we were entering a whole new world. The now- dirt road went alongside the babbling brook that was strewn with clusters of white icicles, creating an almost pic- turebook scene of winter. The heat had been left on in the cabin at 50 degrees, so the first order of business was to get a roaring fire in the huge stone fireplace that reached to the top of the knotty -pine cathedra ceiling. It dwarfed everything in the room about us. What with the addi- tion of hot cups of coffee and a good in the atsk1*11 i Times /Review photo by Paul Stoutenburgh One of the highlights on our winter trip to the Catskills was the sighting of several bald eagles waiting patiently in the trees for fish to show up. Here you see our reward through my 20x scope. meal, we soon were as comfot eas if we had been there all winter. The only thing that brought us back to reality of the outside cold was later when we slipped in between the icy sheets of the bed. They still held onto the cold of yesterday. It made you curl up in a fetal position then one leg would brave the cold and work its way down, then the other and finally, as you worked the two together, the bed began to warm up and sleep took over. Our days were made up of work and play, the play being the experience of exploring the back roads and quaint towns of the Cat- skills. We passed by places like Bushkill, Cat Hollow, Mary Smith Road, Glen Burnie, Rose's Brook and even Shinhopple. We'd pass alongside the Beaverkill, the world- famous trout stream that passes through the Catskills. In quie pools we'd see our familiar black ducks and mallards and occa- sionally a common merganser, which is the freshwater mer- ganser. Our local merganser is the red - breasted in our saltwa- ter bays and creeks. We even saw beavers in the river and found places where they had toppled trees down with their chisel -like teeth. One was 10 inches in diameter. Once the tree is own, -the sm ranches are cut, off and dragged to the beavers' lodge where they use them for food all win- ter long. At one point, across a new aiongsw a brook, we saw a large oak tree with a huge eagle's nest in it. It was a massive nest, much larger that the one our ospreys build. We stopped to eat at The Old Schoolhouse in Downsville, a converted affair that was plush inside and dripping with local memorabilia from the surrounding countryside. When the waitress came to our table, I asked if she had heard of any eagles around, as I had just read somewhere that they often congregate in certain parts of the east branch of the Delaware River. Surprisingly she answered, "Yes, I come from Harvard and I see them there." It wasn't that fa away and so, as soon as we finished our meal, we headed out to hopefully rendezvous with the eagles. Sure enough, when we got to Harvard, we spotted three in a tree alongside the river that paralleled the road. Two were immature, with their dark -brown bodies; one was an adult, white - headed and handsome as any picture could be. My, they are big birds. Off in the distance, down the river, I could see one more white - headed bird perched in a tree. They were like hawks waiting for a mouse to move below them, but in this case they were waiting for fish, and seeing the water was so clear and shallow I guess they were having asy picking. Satisfied with our views of the eagles, we headed back along Route 30 that runs along the huge 20 -some- mile Pepacton Reservoir that sup- plies the water to New York City. We knew back home we needed rain and we could see that the Catskills were in the same situation, for the reser- voir was way down, by some 70 feet. They've had little and no big snows to fill the reservoir. We took a picture just for the record. When they created this reservoir they flooded a valley and wiped out the town of Shavertown, where one of our friends was born and raised. As we drove along looking at the now almost empty reservoir, we could. see traces of what was once a bridge and a roadway; everything else had been lev- eled. Even the graveyard was dug up and relocated, all so the people of New York City would have a reliable water supply. We stayed at the cabin for about a week enjoying the soli- tude of the area, solitude that cut out any television reception, created poor radio reception and even blanked out cell phones completely. Each night I'd go out on the deck and look through the crisp night air and see stars that seemed to be within arm's reach, they shone so brightly. Yet during the day the temperature rose. The warmth ate away at the snow that had covered the land the first night we arrived. We got our water at a spring alongside the road. It was a simple moss - covered pipe that stuck out from the rocky bank along the side of the road. It was the most delicious, clear water you could imag- ine and its taste was a delight. We'd go down with gallon jugs and fill them up. The water was far better than any store - bought water. Our trip was over all too soon. It seemed as if time stood still in the mountains that surrounded us. One day just melted into the next. How those pioneers living on the rocky farms sprinkled through those valleys ever survived is beyond me. Many didn't. Today the only trace of their endless energy is seen in the old stone walls that every once in a while appear in the woods as you drive along. It was a grand week and one we'll remember. P.S. A call this week ended the mys- tery of our swimming deer in the Sound. A lady called to say her dog chased a deer so far out into the Sound that her son thought neither one of them would ever make it back. Evidently the dog returned and the deer took a long swim by himself before coming ashore.