Overlooking Manhattan Island's Heights Unknown

The northern tip of Manhattan symbolizes an undesignated outdoor museum of natural history. Ageless ice sculptures melt beholders in their presence; and a legacy reinforces why earliest inhabitants found these parts of the island most desirable for living. Long before skyscapers, the Wisconsin Glacier boldly carved-out the Hudson River valley 50,000-years ago, designing the city's highest elevations cloaked in the only natural forest and salt marshes which remain today.

Manah-atin, which signifies Island of Hills, is how Wappinger Algonquins identified their domain. Scattered about the rugged terrain when explorers first arrived, a small monument, unknown to most, marks significance where some of the world's most expensive real estate was purchased for trinkets, beads and blankets. The Native Americans had enjoyed shelter within the timberland valleys from their only predator; Mother Nature. The Dutch immediately headed for the southern tip to fend off their greatest predators; mankind.

If ever returning to live in NYC, there's no question about where apartment hunting would begin. Washington Heights, and Inwood, the "first settlement" area appropriately named, are the island's best-kept secrets for natural encounters Central Park can't even begin to harmonize. Even if secluded, and somewhat vigorous hiking isn't an incentive for escaping concrete jungles in the Big Apple's orchard, there's still ample lawns, gardens, and forests to stroll through in Fort Tryon Park where pathes meander towards The Cloisters; a branch of the Metroplolitan Museum of Art with medieval collections from some of Europe's grandest cathedrals and monasteries.

Beyond these covert treasures, simply hangin' around the Heights obliges encounters both travelers and New Yorkers could surely benefit from. Over the last few decades, immigrants from the Dominican Republic have transformed this area into their largest island enclave outside of the motherland, instilling a laid-back, hospitable seasoning skewed with jovial chaos from all that's Dominican.

St. Nicholas Avenue, now doubling as Avenida de Juan Pablo Duarte, is the main passage unto a shopping district with some of the cheapest prices found in the entire metropolitan area, and an endless selection of grazing opportunities from cafés, markets and street vendors of all backgrounds. Sidewalk sprees appropriate bargain festivals that even the wealthy find irresistable; regulary descending from their cliff-top apartments which garnish the Hudson.

If nothing less, Overlooking the Heights solicits backwoods encounters with a fusion of island life; though most still disregard what otherwise remains unkown.

Quick Tips:

Trailblazers Unlimited
Just as Columbus fathomed something waited beyond the horizon, Washington Heights proves NYC doesn't drop off the map beyond 96th Street! Circle-Line boat tours render stunning views of Uptown, but up close and personal gurantees unique impressions. Entries cover reommendations between 169th Street and mouth of the Harlem River; approximately 220th Street.

Fame, Fortune, and Fears?
Both the Yankee's Alex Rodriguez, and Red Sox's Manny Ramirez are prodigies from where the city's most fervent sports rivalry is humored with local pride. Unfortunately; baseball isn't the neighborhood's only grand-slam frequently making headlines. Thanks to rapid in/out accessability, northern Manhattan has also entertained some of the city's biggest drug busts blemishing reputations of otherwise family-oriented communities.

The odds of something randomly happening in the Heights is no greater than anywhere else. Most everywhere is high-traffic, and ethnicites more diverse than expected. There's no where to caution anyone savvy about walking during daylight hours, but consider having everything completed before 3:00pm when schools dismiss, and thousands of students swarm sidewalks and subways.

Yeshiva University, and Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, at 169th & Broadway, are presitigous institutions which might warrant visits for other purposes.

Best Way To Get Around:

Washington Heights is accessible by car from the Henry Hudson Parkway, Harlem River Drive, or Cross Bronx Expressway/I-95 which links New Jersey via the George Washington Bridge. Broadway is the main thoroughfare slicing through heart of the community, but there's more flexibility when using public transportation.

Subways
The blue-line A-train runs express making six stops along Broadway between 169th and 207th Streets. The red-line 1-train makes local stops along St. Nicholas Avenue taking much longer. Stations are submerged beneath the island heights; most having elevators or escalators for reaching lower decks below street level.

For The Cloisters, board a front car on the A-train, and exit at 190th Street. The Overlook Terrace elevator ascends to Margaret Corbin Plaza and entry to Fort Tryon Park. The subway station is inside the marble structure.

Buses
The M4-line also stops at Corbin Plaza, but continues to the Cloisters sparring a walk through the park. M100-line is the other most useful route trailing through the valley.

New Jersey Transit Buses regularly depart from the George Washington Bridge Terminal at 180th and Broadway.

Individual entries include suggestions for explorations on-foot.

Over the years, I've never had a bad mouthful of anything in Washington Heights, regardless of where or what I've eaten. With numerous varieties of foods, and manners of partaking, the highest recommendations comes with what dominates! Comida Criolla is the style of island food influenced by European, African and Asian cultures which readily adopted the wealth of tropical-found staples, and no one serves up a better plate-full than Dominicans.

Thriving restaurants are dime-a-dozen; especially within the business districts, and often where you choose to eat is based on convenience of when hunger strikes. Most every establishment has a posted Menu of the Day which will include eight varieties of meats, the same number of side-dish accompaniments, and at least two soups to choose from. A loaded plate, with meat and two sides, usually costs $5 from 10:00am-4:00pm, and sometimes includes drink. These selections are in addition to extensive menus offering poultries, fish, meats and seafoods ranging from $7-$25 per plate with choices of rices, beans, and any number of Caribbean vegetables and fruits.

Menus are bilingual, and most everywhere has daily items laid-out on steam tables. If it eases comfort levels, find a restaurant where the displayed foods are within close viewing range. This allows seeing what looks good as well as pointing if you don't know what you're ordering, or the clerk doesn't speak much English. Most every establishment has counter-top service which I highly recommend. For what islanders excel in for hospitality, they lack in customer service, and waiting for a server to appear at a dining room table may take forever.

One of my favorite restaurants is 27 de Febrero named after the Dominican Independence Day. It's conveniently located at 1242 St. Nicholas Ave., between 172nd/173rd, and a welcomed stop when indulging the shopping district. You can't go wrong with their pernil asado (pork roast), and a pile of yellow rice, salad, and boiled yucca or fried plantains for $5. Tropical fruit shakes are $3, plus there's a full-service bar. The place is usually quiet on late-afternoons, and also makes for an interesting browse with artifacts decorating walls.

However, don't be surprised if you never make it into one of the local restaurants. Dominicans have an engrained tendency for gorging in the streets, and there's certainly no shortage of opportunities; especially along St. Nicholas Ave. Crowded amid sidewalk merchants, vendors peddling any number of frituras (deep-fried fritters), hot dogs and kabobs, and homemade dulces; milk fudges, candied fruits, and other mouth-watering sweets. Nothing rarely costs over $1, and is definitely a junk-food splurge which can be a meal unto itself!

For those looking to munch healthier, tropical fruits are sold in abundance already prepared for eating on-the-spot, or for taking home. Coco frio are the chilled coconuts vendors will hack with a machete, and insert straw for slurping the refreshing waters.

Other entries include dining options within the respective areas.

Perched atop a timberline ridge overlooking the Hudson River Valley is one of NYC's finest museums that tends to receive undue patronage. The Cloisters, featuring medieval relics and recreated gardens from some of Europe's grandest cathedrals, is blessed with reverence and natural tranquility with its distant northern location. Opened to the public in 1938, works of religious art and architecture styles, from the Romanesque and Gothic eras spanning more than 500 years, are showcased within 17 different sectors.

The museum itself combines an ancient rural church facade with regal castle qualities, perhaps the biggest disappointment being that the bell tower isn't open for elevated viewings. A coolness permeates the stone core through dungeon-like hallways that open into mini-chapels that have incorporated structure parts from churches and cathedrals across Europe. Intricate carvings and details within the pieces are clearly labeled with significance outlined on fine-print placards that are rather difficult to read in the darkened interiors, which also deters viewing, especially in the tapestry rooms. Consider bringing a pen flashlight and reading glasses. Photo opportunities are limited, with flash photography prohibited.

Some of the most impressive pieces of chalices and religious icons of precious metals are tucked away in the air-controlled Campin Room, easily overlooked with its small, closed entry. Don't miss the glass case displaying 52 odd-shaped, oversized items that are numbered and in four different styles. They're believed to be one of the first decks of playing cards. Other museum must-sees include the Gothic Chapel burial vaults and the Glass Gallery.

However, most impressive are the four separate cloisters that have been reassembled representing different Middle Age periods from the south of France and Pyrénées regions. The smallest is the Saint-Guilhem Cloister, with the most intricate and ornate detail, especially within the support columns that surround the marbled center. The Cuxa Cloister is heart of the museum and most traditional. During winter, the area is enclosed with glass to maintain a year-round outdoor setting.

On the lower level, the Bonnefort Cloister takes on more of a garden atmosphere without the open-air, covered walkways that enclose most cloisters. Benches are scattered about the plants. A waist-high wall surrounds the area featuring placid views of Fort Tryon Park and the River Valley that sprawls beyond. At the admissions desk, when first entering, make sure to pick up the brochure entitled Garden's of the Cloisters, which gives detail to religious and medicinal purposes of why gardens held such importance.

The back wall with stone-arched porticos peers into the Trie Cloister, which doubles as museum-café from May to October. Tables line narrow passageways which hem a small, peaceful garden centered with traditional sculpted fountain. Sandwiches start at $7.50, and chips, fruit,and other snacks/drinks are $2.50+.

The Scoop: The $15 admission fee is also good for touring the Metropolitan Museum of Art along Fifth Avenue. Depending on timeframe, they sometimes allow a 48-hour usage period. If not, play stupid and go anyway. Admission fee is only suggested.

If planning to visit The Cloisters, a meander through Fort Tryon Park is a soothing preamble enhancing the man-made reverence with all that's natural. The park extends along a ridge overlooking the Hudson River, and while there are spectacular views when the valley isn't muddled in haze, the upscale haven that's been preserved within some of the park's boundaries surprises most.

These elevated lands, which were important lookout points during the Revolutionary War, were donated to the city in 1935 by John D. Rockefeller. After falling into decades of neglect, Fort Tryon Park has been centerpiece of cleanup efforts along Riverside Drive, spearheaded by Bette Midler. Forming the New York Restoration Project, a non-profit organization, ongoing proceeds are generated from the New Leaf Cafe, a prestigious eatery shrouded in gardens just off the park's main path.

The cause justifies splurge prices, and Midler's a regular when in town. Reservations are recommended, especially for Thursday's live jazz from 8 to 11pm. There's parking along backside of the restaurant with another overlook terrace that scans across the Height's central valley. The only public restrooms are located on ground level in the rear.

The park's main entry is off the circular turn-around at Corbin Plaza, where the M-4 bus and A-train 190th Street stops are. Just inside the gate, the path forks to the left, but most should continue on the straight path, which passes through the Heather Gardens. Flower beds aren't as manicured as found in Central Park, but varieties of flora guarantee that something's always blooming.

When approaching the stone wall, the walkway divides with path to the right heading towards the café. Continuing straight ahead is the most direct way to The Cloisters, but one of the park's greatest features awaits uphill to the left.

An expansive plaza is perfect for shedding any edge that comes from the city’s rat race. Rows of shaded benches extend across an area that never seems to draw much traffic. Silence and solitude are soothing during any stage of daylight, with hilltop breezes providing cool with the calm. Sunset vistas, across the Hudson, are best enjoyed when walls of trees have shed their leaves.

Off back of the plaza is an elevated walkway that leads to the circular lookout area of Fort Tryon. These days, views are limited with such dense vegetation. A series of stone bridges, archways, and entries at base of the fortress mingle fairytale with medieval, the perfect prelude for what waits in the museum. Beyond these points, all trails converge at a pair of stacked stone bridges, and the Cloisters is 5 minutes beyond along the overlook path.

The east side of the park, which descends length of ridge towards Broadway, has some remarkable secluded views, but paths and stone staircases are in desperate need of repair. There's an assortment of people exploring during daylight hours, but I don't recommend being anywhere in the park after dark.

Midtown and downtown Manhattan aren't the island's only areas with impressive elevated viewings of skyline and bridges. Uptown is also well represented, combining natural with the man-made, and nowhere are vistas more impressive than along the Hudson River. Most trails through Fort Tryon Park overlook the glacier-carved river valley, but viewing opportunities don't end there. When exiting the park at Corbin Plaza, continue walking on either Carbini or Ft. Washington Avenues, which are lined with upscale, high-rise apartment buildings where rents escalate with balcony views.

Streets veer towards the river where sidewalks allow viewing of the George Washington Bridge, not as popular as the Brooklyn Bridge, but larger and just as grand. The southerly course spares walkers from steep staircases, which descend into the valley towards Broadway. All streets dead-end where the bridge initiates from the George Washington Bus Terminal.

From the rear entry, there's a covered side street that allows head-on viewing of the bridge while traffic passes underneath. Inside the terminal is entry for the A-train's 180th Street stop, numerous buses stop out front along Broadway, and it's a level walk going east towards the Shopping District along St. Nicholas Avenue a few blocks away.

The Height's other impressive viewing requires heading east on 175th Street off St. Nicholas until coming to Highbridge Park. The historic water tower, behind the public pool, is highlight of the promenade, which overlooks the Harlem River and across towards the Bronx. Information placards detail passed significance of the tower, and crumbling portions of the Croton Aqueduct can still be seen below spanning the river. Most likely to capture your attention will be the extensive system of ramps, which weave their way on/off the bridge that feeds I-95 onto the Cross-Bronx Expressway.

Looking across the rivers from either side of the island helps to gauge how this region has the highest elevations of anywhere within New York City. The man-made bridges, always laden with heavy traffic, pale in significance with what encircles the northern tip of Manhattan. Sheer bluffs and ridges, unsuitable for development, have retained their forest cover and make for scenic driving along Riverside Drive, Henry Hudson Parkway, and Harlem River Drive, which are hemmed by the rivers.

Walking around Washington Heights, most terrains are level with gentle slopes to streets from 169th to 181st streets. North from here is where the island begins to narrow with irregularities making for steep treks depending on routes taken.

Broadway runs through a smaller valley slicing middle of the island. Ridges aren't as abrupt, like found along the rivers, and have been filled with structures which rise and fall with lay of the land, further dramatized by heights of buildings. Side streets horizontally snake, sparring pedestrians steep climbs in lieu of staircases that cut straight for the top. The most impressive views of the central valley can be seen from the Overlook Terrace that doubles as a parking lot for the New Leaf Cafe in Fort Tryon Park.

Considering the all-time bargain of the ages was secured within the vicinity, when Manhattan island was purchased for blankets, trinkets and beads, it should be no surprise that deals of the century are still mandatory! If you doubt, wait until ascending from the subway station at 181st St. and St. Nicholas Ave., and see if first sounds heard aren't merchants barking "barata, barata, barata", as if to emphasize cheap three times! Washington Heights was where I always came to make the big hauls, and travelers, as well as New Yorkers, could surely use the savings regardless of budgets.

Sidewalks are jammed with shoppers weaving through racks and tables of outdoor merchandise, fueled by the vibrations of merengue blasting forth from wall-to-wall stores. A recent shopping spree in Santo Domingo revealed how's and why's Dominicans can turn such profits with inexpensive pricings; selling en masse to locals which also regularly send items to impoverished families back on the island.

Clothing is in most abundance, and while there's Gap, Jimmy Jazz and other stores found around the city with equal price tags, it's the independent stores that can provide entire new wardrobes for midtown chump change. Most everything is priced under $10 if looking to splurge, but $1-racks of shirts, dresses, and tables of accessories spread across sidewalks will shock even the trendiest shoppers with more selections waiting inside. Sidewalk shoe stores are also common with samples displayed on tables while stockrooms are below in underground storage.

Whether looking to spruce up a New York apartment or humble abodes back home, numerous linen stores hawk factory seconds and overstock on sheet sets, towels, curtains and other home accessories for often under $5. Knick-knack emporiums have treasures amid the junk, and restaurant supply companies can fully equip kitchens regardless of size. Deals at the plethora of $1-stores save on toiletries, detergents, cleaning supplies, and basic household items most New Yorkers purchase at Duane Reades and other more costly outlets.

Even if you're not "in the market" for food, pass through one of the local grocery stores just for the experience. Dominicans have excelled as grocers through-out the city, and stores are an interesting browse with island commodities stacked to the ceilings, and some of the freshest, cheapest produce that justifies extra efforts and savings of shopping in a distant neighborhood.

New Yorkers, grab your pull-along shopping carts and head for the Heights! As for travelers, souvenirs can also be "useful items". Further accommodating the mass-bargain shopping, suitcases are also inexpensively sold for helping cart home all the spoils. Just keep in mind luggage weight limits at the airport. I learned that lesson the hard way!

For quickest access, take the A-train to 169th St. and transfer to the 1-train for exiting at 181st St.. The shopping district extends in all directions from this intersection, but I recommend heading south from here. This allows criss-crossing the 12-blocks along St. Nicholas before reboarding the subway at 169th St.

West 200th Street-Dyckman dead-ends into the Hudson River where a small pier used to provide exceptional leisure on hot summer nights as sun set over the Jersey cliffs. The pier was now fenced-off, but disappointment quickly fled once tracking a crowing rooster from beyond new privacy walls. Just to the south was an anthill of activity with sounds of hammers, drills and buzzsaws in harmony with the feathered conductor. A Dominican, touching-up the facade, insisted previewing the city's newest watering hole.

Workers were racing to put final touches on La Marina Club and El Caribe Restaurante scheduled for Grand Opening in less than 48-hours on Memorial Day weekend 2005. The outdoor facility spans a palm-fringed deck which terraces-off onto an even greater expanse of lawn. The railing, hemming the waterfront walkway, doubled as stand-up counters for accommodating more patrons; views of the Hudson and George Washington Bridge spectacular.

By surprise, I was treated to opening night. Grounds had been transformed into an island paradise with palapas, flat-screen televisions behind bars, and a monstrous stereo-system for gyrating on the starlit dance floor. A line-up of the DR's hottest merengue artists culminated with Sergio Vargas tantalizing the fevered masses which easily numbered one-thousand. Yet the open-air arena never felt crowded and surprisingly, the clientele had a healthy mix from the city's blue-collar melting pot.

Returning for lunch the next week, the lawn was hosting a retirement party for a local fire station which enlightened why certain key elements were still missing. The land, owned by Italians which have long-ran the boat dock and marina, were the investors paying Dominicans to run services. But from there, limited uptown favorites had midtown prices. Beers were $3.00, and mixed drinks began at $5, but standard comida criolla wasn't on the restricted menu. El Caribe appetizers started at $8.00, and entrees mostly included seafoods ranging from $12-$26 which was a disappointment.

The restaurant and club (212/781-5133) are open from noon-to-2am, Monday-Thursday; and until 3am, Friday-Sunday. Unless there's live music, there is no cover charge which was $25 on Opening Night.

Cool winds whipping off the waterfront may necessitate a light jacket, or dressing warm even when there's plenty of sunshine.

Parking is limited, but the facility is an easy 4-block walk from the A-train's stop at 200th Street-Dyckman.

This place is very unique and highly recommended for enjoying cocktails in a different environment, but the real Caribe Restaurante serves some of the best Dominican food in the Heights. Open from 6:00am-to-midnight Sunday-Thursday, and until 2:00am weekends, the menu consists of over 200 selections ranging from $3.00 sandwiches to $25 plates of seafoods. Breakfast items are less than $4.25, best deals are $5 lunch specials with a minimum of eight meats and numerous accompaniments to choose from daily.

The original restaurant is at 1562 St. Nicholas Avenue off the northeast corner of 188th St. (212/781-5135/5155). They've also another location in the Bronx at 2 East Gun Hill Road off Jerome Ave. (718/324-5300/6700).

Just as the Financial District secures Manhattan from the south, it's a different kind of green that counterbalances the island from the north. Inwood is appropriately named as the borough's timberland macrocosm, better than Central Park, but with far less notoriety. Going out of one's way to this outlandish expanse has been interest-bearing since the white man's arrival.

The community spans the northern, narrow stretch of Manhattan from 200th Street-Dyckman upward until the Harlem River courses from the Hudson River, which perfects the island distinction. Final stop on the A-train blue-line is 207th Street and Broadway, where this prescribed Walking Tour begins. The neighborhood has retained affluence to the west of Broadway while the eastern side has evolved with immigrant asperities. Entering Isham Park from any of the stone-terraced walkways would prove disappointing compared to what waits ahead.

Broadway is lined with shops, cafés, and bodegas to prepare for the expedition, but there's also a pair of necessities if really looking to celebrate the occasion. P.J.'s Discount Liquor Warehouse, on Broadway off 204th Street, is the cheapest place I've found in the entire city for wine and spirits. About 1.75 liters of liquor often run $7 to $10 cheaper than regular stores, great for stocking up apartments or hotel rooms. Half-pints, for mixing something during this ramble, cost less than $5. The other island necessities can be found at Portes Cigars at 5009 Broadway, 212/544-9663. Dominicans hand-roll cigars from a variety of tobaccos, and even if you're not a smoker, perhaps the demonstration will prove enlightening.

Manhattan ends at the 220th Street Broadway Bridge, which spans the Harlem River crossing to the Bronx. This is official starting point for turning around and strolling down Broadway to Battery Park at the southern tip, an all-day piddle highly recommended for wanderers. Otherwise, go left on 218th Street at the Baker Sports Complex.

These playing fields are the outdoor homes for Columbia University Athletics. The Lions are NYC's only venue for taking in NCAA Div I football, though Ivy League prestige is certainly more prevalent at the main campus 100 blocks south, also eclipsed by Broadway. Levels of play are rather amateurish, and during my first and only game, flocks of brazen seagulls all but out-numbered spectators.

The football stadium is centerpiece for the athletic complex overshadowed by high-rise apartment buildings from Marble Hill in the Bronx. Numerous soccer fields are just off Broadway, and the tennis and rowing/boathouse facilities are across from a bluff concealed with a massive powder-blue "C" acclaiming the Lions' territory. A last-chance bodega waits where 218th rounds into Payson Avenue, and natural significance of this city safari begins.

Walking along the Edge...
At first glance, Inwood Hill Park tingles with supernatural presence. The main entry passes along the waterfront and quickly serpentines from sight, but it doesn't seem to matter. Eyes are drawn forward and upward to an imposing green rampart hemming the furthest realms. An irregular scheme illustrates the lush basin into various sectors segregated into concealed echelons. Random joggers and dog-walkers execute daily rituals all but swallowed into the unrefined obscurities.

The path, which weaves right along the waterfront, passes a Little League baseball field which usually attracts the expanse’s largest gathering of people. Across the way is a small Nature Center open from 10am to 4pm Wednesday through Sunday. Significant details are provided beyond the obvious, including that bald eagles have adopted this natural habitat as a year-round domain. Unless you've interest in visiting, take the first available left at the park's entry. Otherwise, trail to the right leads out of the way before dead-ending along the river.

The large body of water extending inland, separating the park's main lawns, is rather a blemish without understanding it's not a beautification project gone bad. What appears to be a partially dried-up lake is actually Manhattan's only remaining salt marsh. The northern tip of the island originated as swamplands between the Hudson River, and the Harlem River which was actually a tide-driven backwash from where the Long Island Sound funneled into the East River. Eventually, the marshes were channeled to allow shipping; hence, the man-made creation of one of the world's most distinguished islands.

From the park's main entrance, most paths follow around the marsh which juts inland. Even in late winter, when snows begin melting further up the Hudson, I've never seen the area fill with overflow water. Closest to the mainland retains a year-round, dried-out swamp appearance with visible litter and salty rancid smells increasing in warmer weather, but don't let these questionable qualities cause postponement. Stay along the path that's bordered with a continuous bench. There's not much of a view, but it's a great place to stop and rest while imbibing the company you've chosen to keep, ensnared by the charm of nature and solitude.

An overpowering impression of smallness continues to grow with the wooded barricade off to the side dwarfing everything in its presence. Once the path hooks left at the base, it's all but a pilgrimage for trekking the short distance to one of the city's most significant landmarks even most New Yorkers have no idea exists.

Genesis of the Island
Even on the brightest of days, a shaded mystique engulfs the trail leading off into the forest before it quickly disappears from sight. A detailed sign outlines various hiking trails that wait beyond, yet there's a sense of unrest for daring to proceed any farther. Perhaps the secret, to the daunting spirits, radiates from the small boulder which rests where the trails initiate.

Unless one knows to investigate closer, overlooking the corroded placard attached to the rock is easily done. Significance? It's believed to mark where Dutch explorers bought Manhattan in 1626 from the Wappinger Algonquins for a pile of blankets, trinkets, and beads valued at less than $25. The areas surrounding Inwood Hill Park are where the island's first inhabitants lived and communed with Mother Nature. Just as St. Patrick's and St. John the Divine are the city's greatest man-made houses of worship, what waits in the forest will baffle nature exalters, a pristine temple hidden in NYC.

A sign outlines the maze of hiking trails and proves rather confusing even after numerous visits, but there's no mistakening other placards explaining how this region was carved by glaciers, or how the Parks Department is slowly making headway to inherently restore this area. Within a dozen paces, expect to be engulfed within the forest, with no visible directives ahead or behind except path. By then, sounds of the city are muffled by dense woods aside from the occasional plane flying overhead. The timbers are alive with armies of black squirrels frolicking, and chirping birds peeking from houses attached to labeled trees. Listen, and fill your lungs with fresh air.

Side trails lead off towards boulders which cling around the massive ridge; a direct way to the top for adventurous, but here's a pair of recommendations. The main path is black-topped, and perhaps 50 yards from where entering the forest, there's a very distinctive fork. The asphalt version continues to the left through flatland woods that have been culled, and is the easiest, most direct way back to Payson Avenue.

The route which splits right is dirt, and potentially muddy, but winds its way up the ridge through terrain that appears all but forgotten. Created decades ago, paths are now broken-up as are stone staircases, and toppled, rusted-out lamps are scattered about. There's a surreal feeling, like entering sacred territory that's been reclaimed by its maker. Trekkers may need to climb over/under massive trees that have fallen, blocking trails. Side paths continue to split off and often circle back before eventually reaching the top. Panoramic vistas have been lost within timberland density, but the greatest highlight is experiencing backwoods adventure in America's largest city.

Here's a forewarning to further attract or discourage potential excursionists: At no point have I ever encountered anyone within these woods except for ones who came with me! Even during this latest visit, I was paces behind a young couple entering the woods who quickly disappeared within the vastness. There's added adrenaline for what or who potentially lurks beyond, but there are not even signs of litter from drug-users, pervs, or vagrants who tend to congregate in Fort Tryon Park. Presumably risky? Perhaps, but no more likely than random occurrences in crowded Times Square.

From where the hike begins and forks, all trails eventually head in a southeasterly direction. If you've poor sense of direction, bring a compass. Paths exit the woods behind Payson Park which faces 200th St.-Dyckman. There are restrooms and a water fountain inside. From here, it's a short walk towards the river and La Marina Club for relaxing over drinks, or the A-train is 2 blocks left at Broadway.

Exceptional opportunity for X-country biking within the forest is prohibited, though no one has ever been around to issue citations. Ride at your own risk.

The A-train connects Manhattan's 207th Street to Far Rockaway, Queens as the subway system's longest line. From Washington Heights, a person would be sweating bullets and hoping for no delays to reach JFK's airport stop in less than 2-hours. Numerous Merengue and Bachata hits have mentioned that ancitipated 'train ride to home...' Yet no one ever croons about those frequently missed flights, nor actually bothers to plan ahead thanks to interpretations of island time where the infamous New York-minute seems to retard the further north it extends.

Once moving to the city, an exhaustible list of must sees was quickly checked off including my first ride on the A-train for playing clueless tourist at The Cloisters. As a hayseed, displays made for quick work with no sense of appreciation, or conceptions that frequent trips to Europe were on the horizon. Scoffing around Fort Tryon Park also revealed nothing impressive compared to lustful enamorations with Central Park, where I immediately headed spending remainder of the day.

Headlines and rumors had painted this uptown area as being crime-riden, and less than desirable with a crude mix of immigrants; a place that anyone decent or cautious would never venture without purpose, and mine had been fulfilled. Thankfully, ignorance exposed has a way of correcting itself with the right tutelage. However, I'd never bothered venturing back to The Cloisters until this last visit.

Taking a former co-worker that has lived in the city all her life, my 13-year absence paled in comparison to hers more than 45-years earlier as a public school student. Serving as her personal docent was least to offer since she'd always covered the slack during my frequent travels. Liz and I spent better part of a morning foraging through the museum while waiting for large groups of students to pass. We were touched by their youthful enthusiams; kids from the 'hoods with a free opportunity they'd unlikely be able to afford as adults; just like my friend. Later on a shaded bench, we began to recount stories which had fashioned our friendship over time. Exposing Liz to the world beyond seemed trivial compared to her teaching me to embrace and survive the inner-city at-hand.

Shared experiences; they're some of life's greatest rewards. Both the giving and the receiving. And while thoroughfares and bridges link upper-Manhattan to the rest of the city and Tri-State area, the streets of Washington Heights never disappointed for yielding such treasures; a quick transport to where ever I chose to travel, or call home.

When "Papi Juana", Too!
A cook at my agency's midtown headquarters was on a mission to alter my Obsession. Expecting a traditional birthday party, who knew what really awaited once rounding the corner. The Washington Height's block, lined with 6-story tenament buildings, was pulsing on that Indian summer night. Walking along congested sidewalks was futile with the sea of people gathered around charcoal grills, heated domino and card games, and the Yankees' on televisions running outside from ground-floor apartments. Music echoing down the canyon was exceeded with each passing car; on slow parade to see and be seen while waiting for hordes of children to rescatter from playing in the streets.

Unfamiliarities denied the calling of my name when a stranger rushed forward. In broken English, the young man introduced himself as Hilda's nephew, and promptly ushered me passed two different clusters of balloons until arriving at the appropriate gathering. Before numerous introductions had even been completed, I'd been handed a Presidente beer and shot of some sweet concoction that tingled like Hot Damn-flavored mouthwash. A chair was vacated, a plate was loaded, and the party resumed in rapid-fire Spanish. Basically understanding nothing, there were no desires for turning "sidewalk flower", diving head-first into their own little world.

Long before I'd ever been to Dominican Republic, the island infection had been contracted in NYC, and no place could the epidimic be more contagious than in Washington Heights. A recent flood of immigrants has pushed Dominicans to the forefront of the city's Hispanic population, and while they've infiltrated the five boroughs, the concentration is most prevalent in Uptown Manhattan. City life seems to have done little for curbing the unrefined zest for living fermented in genuine hospitality. Yet most New Yorkers still disregard them, or at best curiously observe from a safe distance.

Dominicans rarely mask exuberant emotions with subtleties, and a simplicity creates havoc that tends to grate against the American-standard of common sense. Nevertheless, there's no question these islanders know how to enjoy life; even willing to laugh at themselves while perfecting proven stereotypes. Day or night, and often regardless of weather, these outdoor people inundate the business and residential areas of the Heights with an indulgent socialization process that can prove overwhelming.

No strangers to hard work, the only things more important to Dominicans are family, friends, and celebrations charged with music and dancing, food and drink. During that first party, enough bilingual people insisted a prompt return, and so began my indoctrination to a culture and language that even absorbed purpose of identity. Exposure prepared me for eventually living and working in Spanish Harlem, and those first trips to Santo Domingo, but it was my growing entourage in Washington Heights that faithfully provided the carefree-distractions for surviving city living.

Metropolis Meditations
Tagging along with a trio of compadres, the Columbia athletic complex seemed like a conspicuous place to be heading at 4:20. Fortunately, we kept on walking until coming to Inwood Hill Park, and I was amazed that such an unsullied sector had escaped my discovery. Stopping along the waterfront to relax, distractions were compelling. The vacant sanctuary, on a weekday afternoon, contradicted that such serenity could even be harbored in a place like NYC. Apparently, mis amigos were regulars, but had done little more than "park" on the benches. As island immigrants, they could remember realms beyond, and senses of adventure were still intact with a little prodding.

Circling around the basin, eureka prevailed when discovering one of the city's most significant landmarks was tucked-away in this obscure region. They weren't familiar with how Europeans all but stole the island from the indigenous people, but knew too well about similar invasions and overdevelopment taking place back in the Dominican Republic. Migrating from the Caribbean's highest peaks, it seemed preordained these islanders would also adopt the uppermost elevations of
Manah-atin's 'Island of hills' as their new habitat; which ironically, Dominicans have endearingly renamed Quisqueya Heightz, 'Land of Great Mountains' after the Tainos' original name for Hispañola.

Lingering in the present while paying homage to the past, Dago was the one which wandered off into the woods and quickly disappeared; long before placards detailed what waited beyond. He called us forward, but to where could not be seen. The dense timberland had swallowed us into a void of natural luxuries all but waiting for companionship. Under the watchful eyes of birds, squirrels, and Dago, he signaled from a large boulder half-way up the massive ridge, and we headed cross country for joining him. Blunt amid repose, perched high in the domain, a reverance indefinitely hushed discussion.

To no surprise, each had faded into memories of home, their's in the Caribbean, mine in the Missouri Ozarks, where unconstrained escapes like this were part of the daily regiment. Eventually, stories of younger, brighter days gave way to boisterous laughter that resounded in the fresh air, united by appreciation that life in the city didn't always have to be dictated by frenzy. With opportunities of welcomed adventure, we blazed off-trail scaling cliffs and obstacles until mastering the pinnacle of the island's heights unknown, something that would become a shared and private ritual.

That Train Ride to Home...
More than four years have passed since retreating to greener pastures in the Middle of Nowhere. These days, NYC is a nice place to visit, though actually living here again seems less than desirable. However, if some twist of fate tested the never say never cliché, there's no second-guessing about where new chapters would evolve. Washington Heights is one of those rare finds that has ran my gamut of satisfactions guaranteed, without need for compromise.

Elements that quickly taint capital living, south of Manhattan's unspoken 96th Street apartheid line, fade off into the distance when secured within this condensed travel package flourishing with the best of my scattered worlds. Years' worth of acquaintances are dispersed about the city, but it's this captivating corner of island life which still warrants bulk of my furlough time and funds well spent. Familiar and foreign experiences are rejuvenated daily with the unexpected; nourishments for the adventurist's appetite which usually require a plane ticket and passport, not mere swipe of a Metrocard. With all this potentially waiting, travelers and New Yorkers, isn't it time you considered discovering My Heights as also your own?