I
guess you might say I'm obsessed with canals and similar type waterways. Whether it's the Chesapeake
& Ohio Canal that runs for 185 miles from Georgetown in DC to Cumberland,
Maryland or the Kiel Canal in Germany, canals are perfect for the bikeable or
walkable paths that run alongside these waterways. But, imagine my surprise
when, as a native New Yorker, I just found out that there's a 40-some-mile-long
aqueduct that wanders from Central Park to Westchester. But I probably would have still been unaware were it not for Open House New York.
Open House New York is an annual event held one weekend in September with
private
residences, galleries and other (often architecturally-interesting) buildings opening their doors for
culturally-focused activities. Because of my waterway fascination and
tree
hugging nature, I signed up for a walk along the Old Croton Aqueduct
with
guides from the
Friends of the Old Croton Aqueduct that's dedicated to preserving the Aqueduct.
Taking
the #4 Lexington line subway to near the end of the line, I meet the
group of 15
across from Lehman College where I pondered where this aqueduct was
going to
appear. The Bronx hardly sounded like it would be the source of an
idyllic
jaunt. Our two guides, Steve and Charlotte, warn us that, because we
would be
coursing south through the Bronx, if we were expecting sylvan glades we
would
be sorely disappointed. (The treks that head north through Westchester
follow
the scenic Hudson River Valley.) Interestingly, many trailheads are
easily
accessed by taking Metro North to, for example, Hastings-on-the-Hudson
or Dobbs
Ferry stations.
But
what this Bronx section lacks in verdancy it's abundant in history, both
social
and literary. Coincidentally on this the anniversary of Edgar Allan
Poe's
birthday, we will be walking in his footsteps.
We
learn that 10% of New York City's water comes from the Croton Watershed,
which
was the source of the city's first clean water supply back in 1842 when
it
first opened. We take clean water for granted but, before that time, New
Yorkers got their water from wells which became contaminated and led to
plenty
of disease outbreaks, including typhoid. The aqueduct was able to
deliver
50,000 gallons of water a day.
The
entire aqueduct, however, is invisible to us, as it runs just five to
six
feet below the sidewalk along Goulden Avenue. It's said that 99 million
bricks
were used in the construction of the tunnel that carried water. (It's
referred
to as the Old Croton Aqueduct because the new one went onine in 1910 and
the
original ceased operation in 1955.) Curious factoids abound where this
aqueduct
is concerned, including that it was built by a self-taught
engineer.
The aqueduct, a marvel of construction, also owes its existence to the
Romans
who also build these structures to be gravity fed.
Passing
drab apartments, whitewashed churches and ramshackle garages, we spot the turret of the Kings Bridge Armory that
dates back to 1913. (It was the largest indoor drill hall in the world.)
Curiously, what some believe resembles a French chateau has been
abandoned for
decades. A mere quarter of a mile on Kingsbridge Road is where Poe
settled,
wrote some of his most loved works, including the Cask of Amandillado,
and walked the same path we're following south to the High Bridge.
The
most surprisingly lush section of the route is along Aqueduct Avenue
where
embankments (reflecting the topography of the aqueduct) fall away to
either
side of our path that's now dotted with shade trees. The Poe Cottage is a
short
detour away as is the little-visited St. James Church where elaborate
Tiffany
stained glass windows make it well worth the visit.
Near
chaotic Fordham Road, we curve around to an adjacent pedestrian path, a
wall of
native field stone lining the way. Prominent tree roots penetrate the
stone
wall and even dig down to the aqueduct's roof, puncturing it and, saysCharlotte , will eventually destroy it.
Steve
stops to show us a photo of Phineas Gage, one of the builders of the
aqueduct,
who survived after being impaled through the skull with an iron rod – the
tragic
result of digging the canal by hand, using black gunpowder instead of
dynamite.
(A handful of sand was supposed to prevent a spark after using the iron
tapping
rod.)
We
wander into Aqueduct Lands Playground that's designed – as is the nearby
Morgan
Playground – to reflect the aqueduct
itself, including the towns along the way, their names – Dobbs Ferry,
Tarrytown, Ossining, Hastings, etched on brick that rims a water
channel. As we
continue heading south, we pass the Gould Memorial Library, renowned for the Hall
of Fame for Great Americans. (The scenic views of the Harlem River from
this
vantage point also can't be beat.)
As
we cross Tremont Avenue and continue on University Avenue, the walk
dramatically loses its appeal with nothing but crowded sidewalks and
drab
storefronts. But, we press on to the highlight of the journey, the High
Bridge
that carried water across the Harlem River. From there, water was first
pumped
up to the elegant circa 19th century stone tower that dominates the
skyline and
then gravity took over to supply Manhattan. Decades ago, people would
stroll
this the oldest bridge in New York City. We gather in petite
High Bridge Park
and peak through a crack in the imposing chained door to see that the
bridge
surface is now overgrown with weeds. It's been long closed but the hope
is that
it will be restored and reopened as a cycling and pedestrian way between
the
Bronx and Manhattan. This is definitely a path I'd like to tackle.
