A sunny morning, despite big, bossy clouds. 78F by mid-afternoon with a cool breeze through the trees. A lovely day with some evening sprinkles.
A few years ago, a tourist website ran an article about one of our swimming holes in the shadow of a mountain peak.
I’m doing the Catskill 35, so I’ve hiked the mountain under which the hole rests, but never used the hole itself. Why? Because since publication of the article, day-tripping tourists have returned year after year and used the site like their own personal kitchen, bedroom and toilet. They literally, eat, shoot and leave. We find used condoms, diapers and the empty contents of an average kitchen: huge containers of olive oil, bread wrappers, beer bottles, wine bottles, spent coals, styrofoam coolers, plastic containers and much more.
Kind spectators of the Sunday night scene at this hole have diplomatically said that city people “don’t realize there’s nobody to clean up after them”, but I’m a born and bred city girl and well accustomed to garbage cans. As a rule, if there’s no garbage can around, I put it in my pocket or backpack. Continue reading