Christman Sanctuary
Originally posted on The Quest blog.
Our destination this beautiful July holiday was the Christman Sanctuary, a nature preserve near Duanesburg in Schenectady County, New York. The land was, as you might guess, donated by the Christman family. The earliest map I could find that included landowners' names, the 1866 Stone & Stuart, shows the land belonging to S. Christman. I found that to be Spencer Christman, father of William Weaver Christman, in whose memory the land was donated (by his youngest son, Lansing Christman). According to the obituary on Find-a-Grave, Spencer Christman purchased the land in 1848, where he farmed, raised his family, and died at the age of 86. This line from the memorial gives you a glimpse into the life of this family's patriarch: "His integrity, his sterling Christian character and his kindliness of heart won for him from a wide circle of acquaintances, a place not easily filled."
William Weaver Christman, Spencer's son, was a farmer-poet. He published three books, one of which won him the Burroughs medal for best nature book in 1934. He apparently didn't start writing his poetry until he was in his 50's. I also read an anecdote (Daily Gazette) that Robert Frost came to visit him on his farm. After taking a brief walk together in the woods, the two were apparently no longer on speaking terms. According to Christman's grandson, "They both had monumental egos." (Sidenote: This same grandson was a noted harpist in this area. Read more about Corkey Christman here.)
When you take a walk in those woods these days, you too could come away in a foul mood... or you could choose to leave with your spirit refreshed. As we began our walk, we heard raised voices in the distance, which turned out to be two young parents scolding a run-away child and trying unsuccessfully to console a crying one. I do believe it would be a challenge to keep your happy mood when dealing with young ones on a hike (or any time for that matter).
The hike to the falls was actually pretty easy for a non-hiking-hiker like me. There were some steps to navigate getting to the largest of the falls, but for the most part it was doable, even for people with young children.
A series of small falls leads up to (and even beyond) the 30-foot fall, which makes this visit especially nice for someone who loves waterfalls of any shape or size. That also means that you get immediate gratification for your waterfall quest. And then gratification again, and again a bit later, and again even after the big fall.
We had intended to take the orange trail around in a loop, approaching the falls from the south side of Bozenkill (around here, kill most often means "creek" rather than "end the life of"). There was a yellow trail that was supposed to cut through from the blue trail to get you to the orange trail quicker. At that point in the hike, I was in the lead and didn't see the cut-off. So we missed that opportunity and ended up hiking most of the blue trail and arriving at the falls from the north side. We spent some time taking photographs around the smaller lower falls and the taller (although not much water today) upper falls.
At some point during our visit, I decided to look and see if there were any geocaches in the area. One of them appeared to be on the orange trail, so I set my mind on tracking it down. At this point, we realized it would have been a good idea to take a picture of the trail map we saw at the trail head so we would know where we were going. Unfortunately, we didn't. So, we spent a bit of time looking for signs to get us across to the orange trail without backtracking too much.
We picked up the orange trail by crossing over the kill just above one of the smaller falls. Previously, while we were at the large waterfall, we had seen people hiking the orange trail high above us. So, I knew there was going to be some uphill work to be done. In reality, it wasn't bad... but when you're as out of shape as I am, every hill seems like a mountain. About the time we got to the top of the rise, I realized that my target geocache was most likely toward the bottom (from whence we came). I wasn't about to go back down for it, so we carried on toward the south side of the large fall.
Every waterfall looks different from the other side of the stream. This one was no exception, and from the south side you could see that there was another nice, smaller fall above it. Lucky for me, there was a lovely flat, cool rock just waiting for me to sit on it and enjoy the peaceful display of falling water.
I had seen an empty candy wrapper on the way to my chosen spot, so I picked it up, remembering the geocacher's mantra, "Cache in, trash out." I jiggled it a little to [hopefully] make sure there would be no critters crawling into my backpack along with it. Really, though, this area was amazingly free of trash. In early June, unfortunately the sanctuary had been vandalized and was closed for a time. I'm guessing that those responsible for cleaning up the vandalism had also cleaned up any trash that they'd seen.
While I was sitting on my rock contemplating water, Kef hiked ahead to find the correct route among many previously-tread paths. When we continued on our way, I had no idea how exhausted I would be by the time we finished the orange trail (I accidentally typed trial just now, and thought maybe I shouldn't correct it... it was not only a trail, but also a trial). The trail itself wasn't difficult, I was just tired and hot and being attacked by a swarm of bugs of various sorts (flies, mosquitoes, bumble bees, etc.). The bugs are really what could put me in a storm-out-of-the-woods mood.
What I loved about the orange trail, though, was the woods themselves. There were golden pine needles blanketing the forest floor, giving it the look of sand dunes or sawdust. If you stood quietly, you could hear the needles falling like rain drops. At one point, a field of ferns dotted the yellow spread, making it look like a miniature beach with tiny palm trees.
We came upon a stone wall that had obviously been an original part of the Christman farm. Through the trees, you could see a clearing that was likely a part of the farmland that the family worked. I could just envision the generations of Christmans living and working this land. How lucky we are that they decided to share it with the rest of us.
I began to feel like we were never going to reach the end of this trail. There were not many places to stop and rest (unless you wanted to just sit on the forest floor), so I was good and ready to be done. About that time, Kef hiked ahead and came back telling me that it was 100 steps to the end of the orange trail. I counted each of them, and we found ourselves back at the place where we'd crossed the kill. That meant two things: 1) a cool place to rest; and 2) I still had a ways to go until we were back at the car. I rested there for a few moments, drinking water, eating a granola bar, and watching a bright green dragonfly dance.
As we continued on the blue trail, we had a choice of whether to cut through the previously-missed yellow trail (shorter, but up a steep set of stone steps) or loop up and back down via the blue trail. Kef had read that there was a memorial on the yellow trail, so I chose that way in order to see the memorial. It turned out to be a lovely dedication to William and Catherine Christman, placed in the area where their ashes had been scattered at the base of the trees that William had planted. There was also a set of stone benches there, for rest and contemplation. That lifted my spirits considerably, as did the inscriptions on the memorials.
We also came across a marker at the bridge placed in memory of Doris Plant, whose husband Henri had been a conservancy volunteer and instrumental in saving the Sanctuary from demolition when I-88 was planned. An endowment in Doris's memory also helps maintain the Sanctuary.
After an exhausting yet relaxing (is that possible?) trek, we made our way back to the car and headed toward Albany. The reward for our exertions was a delicious gyro and the unbelievable fries at Capital City Diner. Yum!
Our destination this beautiful July holiday was the Christman Sanctuary, a nature preserve near Duanesburg in Schenectady County, New York. The land was, as you might guess, donated by the Christman family. The earliest map I could find that included landowners' names, the 1866 Stone & Stuart, shows the land belonging to S. Christman. I found that to be Spencer Christman, father of William Weaver Christman, in whose memory the land was donated (by his youngest son, Lansing Christman). According to the obituary on Find-a-Grave, Spencer Christman purchased the land in 1848, where he farmed, raised his family, and died at the age of 86. This line from the memorial gives you a glimpse into the life of this family's patriarch: "His integrity, his sterling Christian character and his kindliness of heart won for him from a wide circle of acquaintances, a place not easily filled."
William Weaver Christman, Spencer's son, was a farmer-poet. He published three books, one of which won him the Burroughs medal for best nature book in 1934. He apparently didn't start writing his poetry until he was in his 50's. I also read an anecdote (Daily Gazette) that Robert Frost came to visit him on his farm. After taking a brief walk together in the woods, the two were apparently no longer on speaking terms. According to Christman's grandson, "They both had monumental egos." (Sidenote: This same grandson was a noted harpist in this area. Read more about Corkey Christman here.)
When you take a walk in those woods these days, you too could come away in a foul mood... or you could choose to leave with your spirit refreshed. As we began our walk, we heard raised voices in the distance, which turned out to be two young parents scolding a run-away child and trying unsuccessfully to console a crying one. I do believe it would be a challenge to keep your happy mood when dealing with young ones on a hike (or any time for that matter).
The hike to the falls was actually pretty easy for a non-hiking-hiker like me. There were some steps to navigate getting to the largest of the falls, but for the most part it was doable, even for people with young children.
A series of small falls leads up to (and even beyond) the 30-foot fall, which makes this visit especially nice for someone who loves waterfalls of any shape or size. That also means that you get immediate gratification for your waterfall quest. And then gratification again, and again a bit later, and again even after the big fall.
We had intended to take the orange trail around in a loop, approaching the falls from the south side of Bozenkill (around here, kill most often means "creek" rather than "end the life of"). There was a yellow trail that was supposed to cut through from the blue trail to get you to the orange trail quicker. At that point in the hike, I was in the lead and didn't see the cut-off. So we missed that opportunity and ended up hiking most of the blue trail and arriving at the falls from the north side. We spent some time taking photographs around the smaller lower falls and the taller (although not much water today) upper falls.
At some point during our visit, I decided to look and see if there were any geocaches in the area. One of them appeared to be on the orange trail, so I set my mind on tracking it down. At this point, we realized it would have been a good idea to take a picture of the trail map we saw at the trail head so we would know where we were going. Unfortunately, we didn't. So, we spent a bit of time looking for signs to get us across to the orange trail without backtracking too much.
We picked up the orange trail by crossing over the kill just above one of the smaller falls. Previously, while we were at the large waterfall, we had seen people hiking the orange trail high above us. So, I knew there was going to be some uphill work to be done. In reality, it wasn't bad... but when you're as out of shape as I am, every hill seems like a mountain. About the time we got to the top of the rise, I realized that my target geocache was most likely toward the bottom (from whence we came). I wasn't about to go back down for it, so we carried on toward the south side of the large fall.
Every waterfall looks different from the other side of the stream. This one was no exception, and from the south side you could see that there was another nice, smaller fall above it. Lucky for me, there was a lovely flat, cool rock just waiting for me to sit on it and enjoy the peaceful display of falling water.
I had seen an empty candy wrapper on the way to my chosen spot, so I picked it up, remembering the geocacher's mantra, "Cache in, trash out." I jiggled it a little to [hopefully] make sure there would be no critters crawling into my backpack along with it. Really, though, this area was amazingly free of trash. In early June, unfortunately the sanctuary had been vandalized and was closed for a time. I'm guessing that those responsible for cleaning up the vandalism had also cleaned up any trash that they'd seen.
While I was sitting on my rock contemplating water, Kef hiked ahead to find the correct route among many previously-tread paths. When we continued on our way, I had no idea how exhausted I would be by the time we finished the orange trail (I accidentally typed trial just now, and thought maybe I shouldn't correct it... it was not only a trail, but also a trial). The trail itself wasn't difficult, I was just tired and hot and being attacked by a swarm of bugs of various sorts (flies, mosquitoes, bumble bees, etc.). The bugs are really what could put me in a storm-out-of-the-woods mood.
What I loved about the orange trail, though, was the woods themselves. There were golden pine needles blanketing the forest floor, giving it the look of sand dunes or sawdust. If you stood quietly, you could hear the needles falling like rain drops. At one point, a field of ferns dotted the yellow spread, making it look like a miniature beach with tiny palm trees.
We came upon a stone wall that had obviously been an original part of the Christman farm. Through the trees, you could see a clearing that was likely a part of the farmland that the family worked. I could just envision the generations of Christmans living and working this land. How lucky we are that they decided to share it with the rest of us.
I began to feel like we were never going to reach the end of this trail. There were not many places to stop and rest (unless you wanted to just sit on the forest floor), so I was good and ready to be done. About that time, Kef hiked ahead and came back telling me that it was 100 steps to the end of the orange trail. I counted each of them, and we found ourselves back at the place where we'd crossed the kill. That meant two things: 1) a cool place to rest; and 2) I still had a ways to go until we were back at the car. I rested there for a few moments, drinking water, eating a granola bar, and watching a bright green dragonfly dance.
As we continued on the blue trail, we had a choice of whether to cut through the previously-missed yellow trail (shorter, but up a steep set of stone steps) or loop up and back down via the blue trail. Kef had read that there was a memorial on the yellow trail, so I chose that way in order to see the memorial. It turned out to be a lovely dedication to William and Catherine Christman, placed in the area where their ashes had been scattered at the base of the trees that William had planted. There was also a set of stone benches there, for rest and contemplation. That lifted my spirits considerably, as did the inscriptions on the memorials.
We also came across a marker at the bridge placed in memory of Doris Plant, whose husband Henri had been a conservancy volunteer and instrumental in saving the Sanctuary from demolition when I-88 was planned. An endowment in Doris's memory also helps maintain the Sanctuary.
After an exhausting yet relaxing (is that possible?) trek, we made our way back to the car and headed toward Albany. The reward for our exertions was a delicious gyro and the unbelievable fries at Capital City Diner. Yum!
Comments
Post a Comment