Thursday, April 24, 2008

Newtown Creek to Gateway

Finally we were able to explore further down Newtown Creek, into the area that was once considered for what would have been a gorgeous park. There were problems with sewage and/or industrial effluents, or so I'm given to understand. What a loss for the people of the area!As usual, the geese aren't interested in Ellie. She moves right out on the point to stare at them. We are right at the mouth of Newtown Creek, where it meets the Chemung River, facing southeast.
This is knotweed, it is what totally overgrows the area, making it nearly impassable by the end of spring. It's grassy and lovely, just what the area needs to counteract all the gray silty mud.
This goose feels pretty safe from me, hiding behind last year's knotweed. However, Ellie is moving up the bank, and the gander will slowly waddle out to the water, crabbing at the both of us all the way.
The path leads nowhere that is easily accessible. If I were not so tired, I would knock my way through the reeds, and begin a new path. Perhaps some squatters or fishermen will do it for me.
We've been able to explore the creek because the water level is already quite low. Pretty soon we may be able to cross to the other side for some new views. I'll never get there if I have to use the railroad trestle, seen here.
This wonder tangle was caused by an uprooted tree crossing the creek. The water has found its way around it, changing the little valley forever. At least for the foreseeable future. Geese are mating on the other side, and the squabbling and clucking goes on and on until we appear.
Then they all vacate, flapping noisily to the Chemung River, seen in the center top. We are not the first people and dogs. There are a few tracks here and there. Squatters camps are dotted through the area in the more impassable thickets.
For now, though, we are alone. Ellie is enjoying the exploration. At one point, she doesn't return to the whistle. Instead, I hear a frustrated little yelp, each time I toot for her. It takes some doing, but eventually I find her, stuck atop a fallen tree, her harness twisted into its branches. Thank heavens she was withing earshot. My hearing is impaired, so I don't let her go long out sight.

We will return here when the knotweed is higher.

Little Pond

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