Waterfall hike in Pennsylvania.

After freezing rain covered my region with snow and ice for weeks, we finally got a thaw so I promptly scheduled a hike, this time just across the state border (I’m coming from Port Jervis, NY) to Pennsylvania. I visited Hackers Falls, one of several waterfalls in the area and one of two big draws in the popular Cliff Loop trail that also features a hike along the top of a cliff (which is probably how the trail got its name) that offers sweeping views of the Delaware River below and northern New Jersey beyond.

Cliff Loop is 3.7 miles long, but I only went as far as Hackers Falls which is 1.6 miles (or 3.2 miles out-and-back). The hike is “easy” and “good for all skill levels” according to alltrails.com and children may be brought along. Some trails are flat and wide enough for vehicles to pass although I did not see any tire tracks. But I don’t think you could push a baby stroller along because the inclines can be steep.

Considering that my out-and-back to Hackers Falls was just 0.5 mile shy of the full loop (3.2 vs 3.7 miles), why, one might ask, did I not just do the full circuit and enjoy the scenic vista from the cliff edge, too? Maybe one day I will. But for now, my mind dictates that when it comes to admiring beauty, I do not necessarily always have to go for the two-for-one.

Waterfall inside … a cemetery?

Just a short, downhill walk to a stream called Beer Kill from Route 52 in Ellenville, NY is a massive waterfall that is practically unheard of, Hanging Rock Falls. Yes, you will find it online—that was how I found it—but what few websites you’d likely find were posted only in recent years some as recent as this year. Indeed, a December 2020 post says they’ve “lived here for almost 8 years now and have never heard of or been to this waterfall”. It’s a powerful waterfall formed by massive rocks tiered in a stair-step cascade approximately 100 feet in height that is not much talked about either through intent—the locals might want to keep such gem to themselves—or scorn after the automobile then the airplane diverted New York City vacationers away from Ellenville to other far-flung destinations thus ending Ellenville’s glory days as a vacation hotspot when rail was the only means of long-distance travel on land.

This region east of the Catskills—the Rondout Valley and the nearby Shawangunk Mountains—is riddled with waterfalls and Hanging Rock Falls just 2.5 miles north of the Ellenville village center on Route 52 is just one. Two miles south also on Route 52 is another waterfall, Nevele Falls, sometimes called Buttermilk Falls by locals. The name “Nevele” came from the name of an inn owned by an early Jewish farmer renting out rooms. In 1903, he named his inn “Nevele” after the number of his children, eleven, spelled backwards.

The name “Ellenville” itself has a storied origin. Local lore has it that in the early 1800s the villagers needed to name their village to apply for their own post office. Coming up blank they settled on the name of one of them, Ellen, so Ellenville it was and Ellenville since.

If you’re ever in the area, I strongly suggest visiting these two waterfalls as they are practically by the roadside with Hanging Rock Falls offering a deeper trek into nature with many possible off-trail—with caution of course as the terrain can be steep—attractions and adventures.

Two roadside waterfalls in Ellenville.

Just a short, downhill walk to a stream called Beer Kill from Route 52 in Ellenville, NY is a massive waterfall that is practically unheard of, Hanging Rock Falls. Yes, you will find it online—that was how I found it—but what few websites you’d likely find were posted only in recent years some as recent as this year. Indeed, a December 2020 post says they’ve “lived here for almost 8 years now and have never heard of or been to this waterfall”. It’s a powerful waterfall formed by massive rocks tiered in a stair-step cascade approximately 100 feet in height that is not much talked about either through intent—the locals might want to keep such gem to themselves—or scorn after the automobile then the airplane diverted New York City vacationers away from Ellenville to other far-flung destinations thus ending Ellenville’s glory days as a vacation hotspot when rail was the only means of long-distance travel on land.

This region east of the Catskills—the Rondout Valley and the nearby Shawangunk Mountains—is riddled with waterfalls and Hanging Rock Falls just 2.5 miles north of the Ellenville village center on Route 52 is just one. Two miles south also on Route 52 is another waterfall, Nevele Falls, sometimes called Buttermilk Falls by locals. The name “Nevele” came from the name of an inn owned by an early Jewish farmer renting out rooms. In 1903, he named his inn “Nevele” after the number of his children, eleven, spelled backwards.

The name “Ellenville” itself has a storied origin. Local lore has it that in the early 1800s the villagers needed to name their village to apply for their own post office. Coming up blank they settled on the name of one of them, Ellen, so Ellenville it was and Ellenville since.

If you’re ever in the area, I strongly suggest visiting these two waterfalls as they are practically by the roadside with Hanging Rock Falls offering a deeper trek into nature with many possible off-trail—with caution of course as the terrain can be steep—attractions and adventures.

‘Catskills’ got a lot closer to New York City

Fitzgerald Falls came as a complete surprise for me. Because most of what I knew about the village of Monroe where Fitzgerald Falls is in was its town center and the park-and-ride facility that is always brimming with cars parked by weekday NYC commuters with many spilling illegally onto the roadsides, I had not bothered to check it out for any nature trails.

That is, until one day I found out that a mini-waterfall I planned to visit in nearby Schunnemunk Mountain had its trail recently closed off because it crossed the supposedly dangerous railroad tracks. Looking online for alternate trails, I stumbled upon Fitzgerald Falls in Monroe.

The reviews I read were not encouraging. Most reported that the waterfall was dry when they visited. It was probably best—no guarantee—to visit in the spring and fall when showers were more frequent. But having nowhere else to go to and the season being early fall, I decided to give it a try.

And I was totally surprised when I did. The trail to the falls was just over a half-mile long (or a short 15-minute walk) but the surrounding forestry with seemingly-socially distanced trees spread out on wide barren earth and rocky soil complete with a wooden footbridge crossing a narrow creek and a stone staircase on one side of the falls compared well with those I hiked in the deeper parts of the Catskill woodlands. It was such a pleasure that I went back a second time with Vi.

I typically head north toward upstate when chasing waterfalls. It just made more sense. The farther away I moved from New York City, I thought, the more pristine and untouched nature would be.

But I know now that I cannot simply brush Monroe or localities south of me aside. The 0.6-mile trek to Fitzgerald Falls may be a minuscule portion of the Appalachian Trail it’s on, but the peace and tranquility I found there under the canopy of tall trees interrupted only by the rush of the waterfall had me believe that I traveled for much, much longer to be rewarded with this simple but alluring escape into one of Nature’s truly hidden gems.

Photographing vacation homes

From out of the blue an Airbnb host contacted me saying he has maybe six homes to photograph in his gated community in Pennsylvania in a popular vacation destination. He found me, he said, after searching all over the Internet when his friend, whose home I photographed a few months ago, recommended me perhaps too highly.

One would think I’d be super-excited to land a jackpot six homes all near one another. They are, after all, an hour’s drive away. But instead, I somewhat warily conceded. In his e-mails he sounded too excited and spoke with a freshness like he already knew me—perhaps his friend described me too well—whereas I was just starting to get to know him, a total stranger whose claim of my being recommended I had yet to verify. Six homes could, for all I know, be just a ploy for a discount (as he did eventually ask) and, even worse, not be that easy to organize what with the weather constantly changing and their rental homes’ vacancies having to coincide so they can be booked for photography in a minimum set of days. The logistics can be a nightmare.

But as the Airbnb host promised, there were eight—not six—homeowners in total participating. (Seven I eventually photographed with one still waiting in the wings for a break in her solid summer bookings under hopefully auspicious weather.) The weather did mess up one group’s shoot and threatened another but in the end all went well.

In thanks I waived my travel fee as a form of “group discount” and was happy to offer the original Airbnb host—who initially declined preferring instead a discount for all but eventually accepted—“finder’s fee”.

And I was happy to have met all the 5-star hosts. Meeting people has always been a thrilling, interesting, and surprising aspect of my mercenary-cum-photographer side-gig. I have a regular desk job but this preoccupation of mine that I so love doing—photography—although beginning to feel more and more like real occupation, will always involve art and appreciation whose price no discount could ever reduce.

Calm from seemingly out of nowhere.

Something about waterfalls always blindsides me.

I plan days in advance and the night before my mind busily runs through a checklist of camera gears and parts while charging batteries, researching and writing a short script and committing it to memory that I may sound coherent in front of the camera the next day, then packing everything in my backpack, all without ever thinking of the reason I’m doing all this—to visit a waterfall.

Then, arriving at the trail the following day lugging all these equipment and multitasking like crazy to capture footages that I\’m hoping will become useful, as I near the waterfall to well within earshot of its roar and without having yet laid eyes on the waterfall itself, a calm from out of nowhere penetrates me and seems to transport me to a whole other place, an opening in the chest if you will that connects me to something great and intimate.

All is well, it seems to say.

Maybe there is no need for the phrase “to stop and smell the flowers”. A visit to a waterfall will always stop the interloper in his or her tracks and feel alive and connected with everything in this world.

A roadside waterfall in the Catskills

Cattail Brook Falls is a roadside waterfall in Livingston Manor, a hamlet in the Catskill region of New York.

It is not well-known and not well-visited as I only learned about it through my own researching online.

There is no parking and no official trail. Just a narrow opening along the guardrail wide enough for one person to pass. There is, however, a patch of grass by the roadside wide enough for cars to park about 50 yards away.

After visiting the falls, as I was on my way out, I saw a sign on the ground near the guardrail half-buried in the dry leaves that said “private”. So, maybe the waterfall is on private land, I don’t know.

Still, I wish the place would be developed as the cascading waterfall offers plenty of dipping nooks for young and old and even toddlers alike and looked like a perfect swimming hole for a summer family outing. The road it’s on is a continuation of Main Street on Livingston Manor, a hamlet just a mile up. The way Main Street was structured IMO looked more like catering to out-of-towners than it does to locals with two gas stations, one café at least, a shop for tackle and outdoor gear, several inns with one looking rather very upscale, and small, quaint shops that altogether make for an alluring off-the-beaten-path getaway in the Catskills.

Not just for rail enthusiasts.

Moodna Viaduct is probably stuff you only see in movies. Yet it is real and is only an hour’s drive from New York City. Like Hogwart’s Express in the Harry Potter movies, it is an elevated railway—a “viaduct”—suspended in mid-air 200 feet high and 3,000 feet long spanning atop a hilly meadow between Schunemunk Mountain and the town of Cornwall in Orange County, New York.

New Jersey Transit operates the Port Jervis Line on the railway servicing commuters from the northern and western parts of Orange County going to work in New York City and then coming back seven days a week. I used to ride on that train daily and always enjoyed the crossing at Moodna. Coming from New York City, majority of the passengers get off at Harriman—the station before Moodna Viaduct—so the train is virtually empty and I can look out the windows on both sides of the train to admire the view.

The Port Jervis Line runs between Hoboken in New Jersey and Port Jervis in New York, a town that borders with Pennsylvania. If you only wish to experience Moodna Viaduct, however, you can simply drive to Harriman Station then take the train for the next station, Salisbury Mills/Cornwall, 15 minutes away. You\’ll pass Moodna Viaduct along the way. Fare is only $2.75 each way.

I am not suggesting you do this, however. Careful planning is needed because the railway is single-track, meaning, trains in both directions share the one track. Trains do not run as frequent as you might like. You will end up sitting idly at a train station staring out into the parking lot for 22 minutes to an hour or more with nothing to do while waiting for the train to reach its final destination, turn around, and come back for your return trip. Train glass windows may also not be pristine-new—they\’re general public commuter cars—and could have scratches far too many for any serious type of photography.

Still, once back at Harriman, Woodbury Commons Premium Outlets—arguably New York’s most famous outlet shopping center—is only a 6-minute drive away. A short, elevated rail ride surrounded by hills and mountains and nature could, especially for those enthusiastic about rails, be an interesting companion activity to a day of shopping. No need to travel to the United Kingdom or Switzerland for a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A “Hogwarts Express”-like train ride experience is well within reach from New York City.

Beauty off the beaten path.

Just 20 minutes shy of reaching Albany—not a short trip by any means when coming from major points south especially New York City—is Hannacroix Creek Preserve. It is a nature preserve in the town of New Baltimore that has several marked hiking trails, one of which leads to a waterfall.

The trail starts with an incline that the New Baltimore Conservancy calls “moderately steep”. You won’t reach the preserve’s maximum elevation of 360 feet if the waterfall is all you\’re after (unless you also do the Red Loop trail), but the 200-foot elevation you do gain is bunched up at the start of the already short 0.6-mile hike, making for a rather steep ascent you’d likely call anything but “moderate”. I found myself panting as I neared its top.

The waterfall isn’t big at about 8-10 feet tall. But its craggy wall of rocks spanning the entire width of the creek looks imposing and menacing like a row of prehistoric defensive linemen crouched shoulder-to-shoulder preventing you from advancing any further. Even without a waterfall, which can be weak at times when the water runs low, the rock formation alone can still command awe.

It’s far, it’s steep, and it’s small. They’re probably great excuses for staying put in the cozy indoors.

But, occasionally, nature’s beauty off the beaten paths and a little workout can be all that we need to help us get by from day to day.

Double the fun.

Bash Bish Falls is different in that the waterfall is in Massachusetts but the trail begins in New York. At some point during the 3/4-mile nature hike from New York the hiker is welcomed into Massachusetts.

But that is just one thrilling aspect of it—being able to know exactly where to stand so one foot rests in New York while the other in Massachusetts—because the big draw is of course the waterfall itself called Bash Bish.

Like a dagger thrust in the heart of the falls, a massive schist and granite boulder sits atop the falls splitting the waterfall in two creating gushing flows on each side with equal strength and power in stereo audio.

Indeed, one of two origins of the name “Bash Bish” comes from the sound the water makes. The other origin is of an unfaithful Indian maiden tied to a canoe sent plunging down the 80-foot waterfall. Her name was Bash Bish.

So, there. Two states, two waterfalls, two name origins. Bash Bish Falls seems to spare no expense in exceeding the hiker’s expectation. Visit Bash Bish Falls and you will double the fun at every turn.