Pictures tell such amazing stories. They pick up nuances and emotions, moods and subtle things that are so much more difficult to express in written word or other media. Some of the most powerful stories told are the unwritten ones expressed in pictures, so choosing the right pictures {and the right editing} can definitely shape the mood of a story. Normally I would tell the story of an early morning hike with my husband and discovering some of the first signs of spring as one of positive energy and rebirth, with the pictures to match. Today, I want to try something different. Today…I’m going to show you a ghost story.
We were up at near dawn, and there was a heavy morning cloud cover lingering over the valley. It was a Sunday morning, so everything was quiet. And dark. We were headed to Arden Point to try a trail we’d seen whenever we pulled into the train station and, as he did every morning, Scott commented on all the creepy houses lining the way. There are some gorgeous Craftsman and Classic American style houses along the way, but this is the Hudson Valley, a place where the New York Gothic movement lives on, so there are also some seriously spooky-looking old houses there, too. That particular morning, with the dark sky, they felt especially grim.
This house is amazing. I’m working on a novel {or I will be working on it again as soon as my work load lightens up!} that features this house, because it’s a story in itself. Trust me, hopefully you’ll see the results in a year or so. But anyway, after eyeballing the creepy houses as per norm, we parked and headed over to the entrance of the trail. Now, they tell us it’s supposed to be spring. It doesn’t look like spring here in New York. It looks dead.
We wandered down the lonely path, the only sounds the crunching of leaves and gravel under our boots, and the forced jokes we made to each other to prove that we weren’t walking into a horror movie’s exposition…
I think at some point, I made a joking comment about how it seemed to be awfully quiet. Seriously, it was. There were no birds chirping, no sounds of cars, not even the sound of the train. All we could hear was the echo of the valley. My husband told me it was just my imagination. The start of every horror novel ever. And then we came to the buildings.
When we came upon the first of several modern ruins and abandoned buildings, the creepy vibe ratcheted up several notches. What had they been, and what had happened to them? They looked almost as if they had been torn down by the choking vines that clambered through their windows and wrapped around their lintels.
There was only one building standing. But it was completely abandoned.
I am certain that boarded-up belfry is where Edward Rochester {of Jane Eyre fame} kept his insane wife locked up.
We rounded the house and found several murky lakes, stepping down from the hills into the valley, eventually pouring into the Hudson River. An old pathway runs down beside them, and it looked fairly well traveled, despite not seeing another single hiker out on the trail. Nor hearing anyone. We would have at least heard other hikers, the way the valley echoes, but we heard nothing.
What was the path used for, and what lies at the other end? Perhaps the only way to find out, is to follow it…
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Do you see what I mean? Over the top narrative aside, I deliberately edited these photos to make them sharp and bleak, to play up the monster vines, the creepiness of the shadows, the quiet wood, just to see if I could use my photography to tell a different story than my usual positive vibe. Sometimes, the best way to find new forms of art is to come at old favorites from different angles – and I really love how the old vine choked building came out. In the process, I did stumble on some beautiful bits of nature that I’d also like to share with you. Spring is in fact starting to show up, and we got to see a little bit of it on this hike.
My ever supportive husband. It’s a good man who puts up with his wife stopping the hike every few seconds because she wants to take a picture. And the history lesson. Incidentally, the path we were following is actually the escape path of the infamous Benedict Arnold. That creepy house stands right about where his old headquarters was. One morning, he received word that one of his co-conspirators was captured with plans in hand {including the names of the conspirators and plans to hand over both General Washington and West Point}, so he fled down the same path we followed to Beverly Dock and escaped eighteen miles down the river. We had a fairly easy time navigating the path, but Arnold escaped in September – and any resident of the Hudson Highlands will tell you the brush is nearly impassible during that time of year!
I’d love to hear any thoughts or critiques you might have on the photos, and how I can keep improving my style! Hope everyone has a wonderful week!
