The Ashokan Reservoir
I cancelled today's afternoon painting class as there was only one student. I went home after my drawing class at the School of Art to do some chores, and ponder my walk route when
Meredith knocked on the door, nearly threw me into her car, and we head to the mountains. First a stop at Kenco, a FAB outdoor/sporting goods store that is family owned, on Route 28 to check out some winter walking shoes, then to the Ashokan Reservoir. (jury still out on what I am going to get shoe wise- feedback welcomed).
The reservoir is one of several that collects and transports water to New York City. The history of its construction is fascinating, though very sad for the 1000s who farmed in the valley, surrounded by the majestic Catskill Mountains. I would have not left easily either.
I have gone there many times in my life - practiced driving in Driver Ed there, walked, photographed and painted the views. I have stood in the spray of the aerators on a hot summer day, picnic-ed on the grassy lawn, watched the fishermen float on it's glassy surface in a zen-like trance. I have watched birds of prey swoop down into the water to catch an unsuspecting fish, and watched meteor showers, far from the lights of the Kingston.
The walkway is blacktopped, 2+ miles round trip from the parking area to the guard house; I have not ventured past that point, to the other road that disappears into the dark woods. It's flat and even for the most part, and an excellent course for walking/running/biking/ in-line skating/strollers/walkers/wheelchairs. It is a stunning vista whose cool hues titillate my not-so-secret love of blue and purple.
There are two parking areas; one for the walkway, and another for the aerators. There is also the spillway, which as of this writing, did not have any water going over it. The reservoir seemed low, so a good winter snow pack is needed to fill it back up in the spring.
Off to search for a key to the mountains names. I saw one once---and regret not buying it.
I feel a painting coming on...