CATSKILL MASTERPIECES AND MASTER-PLAY: Cliff Jumping, Waterfalls and Art Along the Kaaterskill Clove

One hundred and fifty year ago this month, Asher B. Durand stood where we now stand to paint the Kaaterskill Clove. While a century and a half lay between us, the view of the glacier-carved ravine (South Mountain to the north, Kaaterskill High Peak and Roundtop Mountain on our right) still closely resembles Durand’s 1864 painting, “Catskill Clove, NY.” The Hunter Turnpike in the foreground has now been paved, but the densely forested mountains still slope 2,500 feet to the Kaaterskill Creek where only hours from now we will walk.

The Catskill Mountains, sundered by v-shaped gorges that the Dutch called cloves, is filled with running rivers whose downward flow burgeons into countless cascades. Mid-19^thcentury painters popularized the area on their canvas leading to a national movement to come and see nature’s awesome grandeur up close, breathe its fresh air and listen to the sounds of its inspirational musings. Perhaps the capstone of this Grand American Tour was the viewing of the twin cataracts of Kaaterskill Falls, which before dropping into the clove for our river scramble we too seek out.

Our hike begins north of the clove with a river-trek up Lake Creek. We hike directly in the stream, experiencing the chill, the flow, and the natural force of the river current.

Our water quest starts strong. Almost immediately we encounter Bastion Falls, a 71-foot three-tiered waterfall of impressive flow. We approach close to lean our heads into its vertical current, and on this hot summer day we climb high on rock ledges to further experience its upper pelting flumes. After dithering for the greater part of an hour soaking, contemplating, and exploring we continue the half-mile hike to Kaaterskill Falls.

When the 231-foot tall Kaaterskill comes into view we pause in silent admiration. Leafy green foliage frames the postcard-like scene. Water flows as ivory sprays in staggered twin succession over rock ledges of salmon hue. The water now flowing past my feet, only minutes earlier was high atop the cliff before twice plunging off hollowed-out overhangs “like a gush of living light from Heaven.”

“Foaming into feathery spray,” continued Thomas Cole in his 1843 observation, it “descends into a rocky basin one hundred and eight feet below; thence the water flows over a platform forty or fifty feet, and precipitates itself over another rock eighty feet in height.” Here, the fast-moving water spouts over a foreground cascade vastly out-shadowed by the layered falls behind. As beads of water condense on my camera lense, I take the obligatory photographs of the scene that Cole more than any other in autumn immortalized on his canvas.

Thomas Cole introduced the world to the Kaaterskill – and to the Catskill Mountains – through his paintings, poems, essays and journals. It spawned not only tourism, but an entire genre of landscape painting including the Hudson River School of Painters, which Cole founded and Durand was among its most illustrious member.

The landscape painting movement was heavily influenced by Nineteenth Century Transcendentalist ideas that stemmed from the pens of Emerson and Thoreau. It held that unspoiled nature was the basis for spiritual renewal, reflection and the restoration of the human spirit. Cole and Durand were believers. We too became disciples.

After a steep climb up the side of the first falls we follow a faint pathway leading to the base, where the column of water drains into a large pool. Our group disperses, each reflecting silently upon the paradise we have found. Some walk directly into the mist as an arching rainbow stretches overhead. A few submerge into the basin. Others soak up rays, sunbathing on rocks. I scramble up the side of the amphitheater for a birds-eye view. Others climb higher to walk on a ledge behind the falls seventy-feet up.

The roaring falls is soothing to the ear. The infinite drops of water pounding onto the base rocks and into the pool also enthralled Cole, who called waterfalls the “voice of the landscape.” I trace the path of the water as it pours over the cliff, into the basin, and then exits over another cliff, only to be replenished by a continuous water stream. Waterfalls, said Cole, “at once presents to the mind the beautiful, but apparently incongruous idea of fixedness and motion – a single existence in which we perceive unceasing change an everlasting duration.”

With reluctance we journey on. Retracing our steps to Bastion Fall we rock-hop the lower Lake Creek to join up with Kaaterskill Creek. We stop several times en route to refresh in bubbling springs of cold water.

The initial stretch of Kaaterskill Creek is flat, rock-strewn and disinteresting.
It pales drastically with the day’s final segment. There, we’ll scuttle through flesh-colored alleyways hemmed in by convoluted sandstone. We’ll wallow in pools, splash in cascades, and slide smooth chutes into the rust-colored streambed. Jettisoning off polished boulders that guard chest-deep pools at a popular swimming hole called “The Rat Hole,” we’ll unabashedly surrender to temptation on this hot humid day.

For now, the streambed is tame. The shoreline is wooded. Eventually the roaring falls of Fawn’s Leap comes into earshot. Tradition claims a fawn leapt from the falls to escape an Indian hunter. These days, it’s not deer, but teen-agers and families jumping from the 30 and 40-ft cliffs.

We join several bathing-suit-clad groups who have come here to escape the summer heat.
The falls twist and tumble fifty-feet to a large pool walled in by thick rock cliffs on both sides. When it’s my turn I launch myself off the falls without hesitation. The drop lasts only seconds; the exhilaration much longer. I glance up to watch others scurry up side walls; one guy doing back flips.

Fawn’s Leap was a favorite destination of Cole’s. After Cole’s 1848 death, Asher Durant painted him standing atop the Fawn’s Leap overhang, a painting in which Cole was joined by his friend and eulogizer, poet William Cullen Bryant.

Arguably the most famous of the Hudson River School paintings, Durand took artistic license with Kindred Spirits by incorporating into a single frame the iconic Catskill scenery: Fawn’s Leap, Kaaterskill Clove, and the twin cataracts of Kaaterskill Falls.

I look up now to see would-be swimmers standing on the precipice readying to jump. I think of Cole and Durand, whose influence a century and a half ago made this place known. Thankfully the unspoiled beauty remains. As I can attest, its rejuvenating effect does too.

Michael N. Kelsey leads Hudson Valley, Catskill and Adirondack Mountain hiking and kayaking trips. Write him at AWAYAdventureGuide@gmail.com and read his adventure blog at www.MikeKelseyAdventures.com. This article appeared in the June 2014 issue of Berkshire HomeStyle magazine.

The Cliff-Jumping Chills and Thrills of Platte Clove

FEAR GRIPS ME. No matter that I stand atop this rock overhang that I’ve nicknamed “The Diving Board ” countless times each summer; the 35-foot drop terrifies each time without fail. I stall for time by fixing my gaze on my hiking companions who anxiously await my jump below. We are at a favorite spot on the Plattekill Creek in the canyon known as Platte Clove. I am standing now atop the taller of two waterfalls that spill into a circular pool just deep enough for jumping. A lower ledge provides a less-daunting jump with a six-foot drop off of which most of us have already launched ourselves. Rocks of varying size provide opportunities for picnicking and for stone-styling as the carefree days of summer inspires. Opposite the tall falls is a more gradual falls that pours over red sandstone that in times of high water makes a decent waterslide. Moist conditions have allowed the prevalence of green mosses to flourish here such that reaching this lovely destination after a stream-bed scramble is heavenly.

For years I called this mountain oasis Twin Falls, only to learn that others call it Lower Red Rock Falls or Honoulu, presumably for its resemblance to the rainforests of Hawaii. Found on the outskirts of the Catskills Mountains, despite its allure to painters and photographers for over a century, there are no official trails here. Most hiking maps go so far as to exclude depiction of Platte Clove partly to preserve its natural beauty, partly because the river gorge traverses many dangerous cliffs that are slippery when wet, which of course is always.

I bless myself with the Sign of the Cross and catapult myself off the cliff.  As my body free falls I yell out screams of joy and other utterances that will make for good video later. Although I am airborne only a few seconds, time seems to stand still. My feet enter the water; the rest of the body plunging after. My blabber turns to bubbles. Kicking off the bottom I rise to the surface, anxious to do it again.

Summer has its rituals: ice cream, fireflies, cliff-jumping. When those shirtless days of June arrive clusters of people – neighborhood kids, families, couples, hikers – flock to Platte Clove for its recreational thrills, both large and small. Here can be found more swimming holes than I can count in an endless series of cascades including 14 waterfalls over 20-feet. With a camera strung over one shoulder and aqua socks on my feet I’m as giddy as a schoolboy on a chilling water scramble that never gets old.

Jumping from a cliff into a pool of water below is thrilling. It can also be dangerous especially since Platte Clove has seen its share of slip-and-fall deaths. I emphasize risk management practices to those who I bring to the Clove including prior checks of water depth, the need for sturdy footwear, and the common sense lesson that if it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. I specifically disallow flips, dives and running jumps that could lead to a slip.

Entry to Platte Clove typically involves a steep bushwhack through the woods to the creek bed. Then comes hours of hopping rocks and wading through water. The hike is a scramble through a rugged, steep canyon, hemmed in on both sides by Catskill ridges. The very word “clove” derives from the Dutch for mountainous notch or steep ravine. At higher elevations several tributaries flow into the Plattekill Creek forming their own steep chasms that climbers have christened with names of affection including Black Chasm and Devil’s Kitchen. These spots are off limits to cliff-jumping due the sheer size of the falls including 70-ft Bridal Veil Falls, Hell Hole Falls, Old Mill Falls, and Rainbow Falls. In winter months this region attracts ice climbers, and rappellers in the fall. I focus my attention instead on the creek’s lower streambed where, while still dramatic and ever-so scenic, the elevation gains are more accommodating to my summer sport of cliff jumping.

The Clove below Honolulu abounds with swimming holes. Six to 10 picturesque spots of varying heights are encountered in the first mile including one with a rope-swing. There are small falls suitable for sitting with natural spa-like qualities, as well as larger pools for soaking. The highlight – by my standards – is a slanted shelf overhang above a waterfall with a 15-foot drop. Jumpers can plunge at the base of the falls, relax in the cascade and then climb up the falls to jump again. Two other spots deserve distinction for their cliff-jumping opportunity and natural beauty. In both, black rounded walls rise dramatically above narrow sluiceways in dark grandeur.

Above Honolulu, the creek passes through a canyon of red shale and sandstone distinguished for its ankle-deep, crystal clear water. Falls are sparser after this point, but more photogenic. The very next waterfall sometimes known as Upper Red Rock Falls or Gray Rock Falls includes a high-rising 25-ft drop that although jumpable in high water, has turned back more would-be jumpers than any other spot.

A long flat section of the creek leads to the base of Evergreen Falls (or Green Falls or Platte Cove Falls according to some). These are my favorite falls to photograph. Water drops about 40-feet in a wide-arching spray with trees and blue sky hovering overhead. On both sides of the falls and behind are lush green vegetation for which the falls are named. The pool at the bottom is indisputably the best swimming hole. At times I’ve brought blow-up inner tubes to lounge on, as the drop is too large for safe jumping (nevertheless some have tried and succeeded).

Beyond this, thick red walls rise hundreds of feet from the creek’s border. The terrain underfoot gets rougher and boulder-strewn. A ten-mile scramble culminates with 51-foot Plattekill Falls, the usual terminus for me before returning the way we came. On a hot day it is possible to stand underneath the powerful force of the falls for a refreshing shoulder massage.

The canyon approach, the scale and magnificence of the falls and the scenery of Platte Clove “defy almost every pen and pencil” as reported in an 1883 article of the Harpers New Monthly Magazine. That article brought fame and recognition to a secret spot that inspired the artists of the Hudson River School of Painters to visit in search of wild scenes to paint on canvas.

Today the lure is still the Plattekill Creek’s dramatic falls and pools. However with the advent of cliff jumpers and other thrill seekers, it is not just the backdrop, but also adventure sports that today comprise the Clove’s wild scenes.

An attorney and Dutchess County Legislator Michael Kelsey is a licensed guide for hiking and paddling trips. Contact him at AWAYAdventureGuide@gmail.com or visit AWAYAdventureGuide.com. This article appeared in the June 2013 edition of Berkshire HomeStyle magazine.