Across the Hudson and up to the top of New Jersey

My successful swing in New England having culminated in my trip to Greenwich, Connecticut, I decided to bypass New York City, passing north of the city. When I reached the Hudson, I detoured up to Sleepy Hollow, and wound up driving around the gigantic Rockefeller family compound at Pocantico Hills.

Given the other research I was doing, it was highly appropriate. But silly me, I was under the impression you could actually tour parts of it. I had already decided to spend that ten dollar bill I found in New Haven as admission. But it turns out (of course) that I was thinking of the Vanderbilt mansion, which is much farther north. Not only can't you get in to the Rockefeller Compund, but it is never even identified as such by any sign, even though it is enormous. Things haven't changed much in a hundred years.

Part of me was glad I didn't wind up giving that ten bucks to the Rockefellers. As it was I found a much better use for it. After crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge, I dipped down into the northern edge of New Jersey, to the town of Ringwood, which is the hometown of a good friend of mine.

When I got to the edge of the tiny hamlet, I stumbled on a large festival gathering, which turned out to be a pow-wow of the Ramapough Mountain Indians. My friend had spoken for years about the local "Jackson Whites," as the Indians are known, and now I had the chance to tell him that I had encountered dozens of them.

I used the ten spot to pay my entrance fee. When I got in, I realized it had been absolutely the right thing, especially when I saw the Indian dancers with the skull masks. I can't tell you how ironic that is, given how I found that ten dollar bill.

The highly successful day culminated in a visit to High Point State Park, where you can drive up to the highest point in the state of New Jersey. There's a huge obelisk monument there, and a little concession selling postcards and hot dogs. The day was bright and clear, and you could see for miles across the mountains into New York and Pennsylvania.

That evening turned out to be tricky for finding a campsite in northwestern New Jersey. Because it was a Saturday night, all the state park campgrounds were full, or reserved at least. I drove to several of them which gave me a nice scenic drive through the Kittatiny Mountains along the Delaware River.

But no luck on campgrounds. I had all but given up staying the night in New Jersey (something I wanted to do, because I had never camped in New Jersey), when I stumbled on a private campground along the river just south of Port Jervis, New York and the state line.

It was a somewhat drizzly evening, which turned into a rainy night at the campround---a rather dilapidated place where people lived year-round, but was obviously once a family campground resort decades ago. I'd been cooking on my camp stove for almost two weeks straight, but that night I treated myself to a hamburger at a diner in Port Jervis.

The day had begun with that trip to Greenwich, and had included a detour to the Rockefeller compound, a pow-wow, and a trip to the top of New Jersey. All in all, it was one of the best travel days I had ever had.