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A Catskill Reverie
by Charles B. Wells from June 1906 issue of 4
Track News
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"In joining contrast lieth love's
delight;" and what greater contrast to the ceaseless maddening
din of the city's whirl than to stroll hatless and carefree along the
leafy paths of mountainous woodland where ears are greeted with
naught save Dame Nature's softest sounds; the gentle murmur in of
breeze swept leaves, the mellow trickling of bubbling springs, the
merry chirping of sweet-voiced birds; a subtle, satisfying sense of
consoling calm, of perfect peace, invades the entire being, and in
this forest dreamland of consciousness one forgets, as if it never
been, the waging war of the world without.
Little wonder that here on the wooded slope of
old High Peak, which throws its deepest shadows far down into the
chasm of Kaaterskill Clove, Rip Van Winkle slept his score of years
undisturbed, save in his dreams by Henry Hudson's merry, misshapen
crew and whenever one of those entrancingly impressive thunderstorm
angrily reverberates around and between these grim monsters one
instinctively recalls that gruesome game of weird nine pins to which
poor, fear-shaken rip was an unwilling witness. |
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Rip's "Village of Falling Water",
Palenville, lies at the base and from the summit, looking far out
over a field of fleecy cloud-tipped peaks, the gilded dome of the
capitol at Albany tosses back the sparkling sunlight which glistens
in the silvery Hudson below as though seeking to detain it in its mad
onward rush to the pathless sea.
Side-by-side on the southern border of this
forest mountainland, rising over 4,000 ft. out of the valley beneath
stand as sturdy, silent sentinels Round Top and High Peak -- the
latter so graphically described by Cooper's Leatherstocking in
"The Pioneers". |
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Half way up the northern slope of these
twin guardians, from the rustic veranda of one of the artistic
mountain home within the confines of the restricted residential
districts of Sunset, Santa Cruz and Twilight parks, looking out over
thick branching treetops, nature's color scheme presents a
never-ceasing change. Beginning with early morn, looking eastward
through the clove across the valley of the Hudson to where the sun
gradually wheels his broad disk up from behind the bold skyline of
the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts, and throughout the
midday, when the picturesque play of thick cumulus clouds presents
unceasing attraction, as their softening shades slowly creep from
peak to peak, until at fading eve, out through the glen westward
appear, silhouetted against the sky, massive banks of blazing fires,
a dazzling prelude to the mellow afterglow of the declining god as he
passes out over the threshold of another day. |
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Nowhere does generous Nature more bountifuly
bestow her wealth of color than upon these Maples, these Birches, and
these Elms and in early September no cathedral aisles can rival in
colorful brilliancy these quiet leafy paths as the sun glints through
the variegated masses of orange, of scarlet and of purple. It is then
when the forest puts on its' robe of brown and yellow, that Bliss
Carman loves best to stray forth from his poet's retreat in Santa
Cruz Park and, stroking his tawny mane, roam hatless through the
silent shades, sing his summer songs as he listens to the babbling of
the Brooks, to the tremor of the trees, to the autumnal call of the
hermit-thrush; and often in the advancing night, as the cold, dark
mountain silently throw their long, blue mantle's over the shrinking
valleys, his muse finds mystic inspiration in the moaning whistles of
the whippoorwill, in the boding cry of the elfish tree-toad, that
tiny harbinger of approaching storm, in the startling hoot of the
mournful screech-owl. Carman's verses on the Kaaterskill Clove show
in what esteem he holds this place and what the attraction is which
lures him here, season after season, to worship at this shrine. |
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The muse of poetry is not the only one to be
inspired here, for to ramble among these dreamy paths is to
frequently stumble upon a painter, his easel beside a rock, with ever
a pictorial vista to the fore; and the canvases of Thomas Cole,
Gifford, and Wells Champney most delightfully represent the varying
charms of Dame Nature, seen here in her happiest mood.
The folk of the stage have long since found
this restful spot. Northward from the clove and near Onteora Park,
the lazy smoke curling up through a thick elm cluster betrays the
restful retreat of the dainty, artistic Maude Adams, where the trials
and tribulations of Lady Babby and Peter Pan are all forgot, and even
the Little Minister is barred from her summer gates. Here in these
twisting force lanes, with no fear of curious eyes, she indulges her
pent-up longing for a vigorous stride in a bracing atmosphere over a
country road, and is frequently seen in golfing costume swinging
along these mountain highways at a sturdy pace that would do credit
to the most athletic of girls. |
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Julia Marlowe, too, has a charming vacation
home here, near Elka Park, where this delightful actress seeks
release from the season's strain, and girds her nerves anew to meet
the strenuous strife of the next campaign. It is here in these woods
that she strengthens and mellows that wondrous voice with practice in
the bracing air of a forest glade on Hunter Mountain, and where she
develops those masterful conceptions of Shakespearean creations which
are to compel our delight and admiration in the season to come. Here
our Juliet has found the secret of youth and health.
It is the ideal life of rest and recuperation
the one leaves here, where the drives and walks through these forest
fastnesses are restful in the extreme, and the inhaled, invigorating
mountain air rejuvenates the entire being, and healthfully restores
those units of energy so essential in the stirring strife which
awaits one in the surging whirlpool without.
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