I found a small shrine yesterday, down by the Hudson overlooking the railroad tracks. The trail runs maybe forty feet above the tracks, with a pretty steep drop—there’s an iron fence along it to keep you from trespassing/breaking your neck.
There’s also, as is customary with iron fences, a gap where those who are intent on trespassing/breaking their necks can try their luck. I went through it and noticed a narrow path along the cliff, leading to a small, graffitied ledge.
At first, the only notable thing seemed to be the graffiti, but when I edged past the ledge, I realized that there was a little cave behind it, in which someone had placed a tiny blue ceramic ram and a rock with “Peace” painted on it. I scootched a little closer, keeping an eye on where I was stepping—slip, and it wouldn’t be a fun ride down. Whoever picked this spot picked it well.
I sat there for about twenty minutes. It’s one of the most peaceful spots I’ve found in a while, despite the occasional train down below.
Went back through the fence and an elderly man was pulling up his trousers, staring at me with the dumb, frozen expression of the perpetually oblivious. He’d been urinating on the trail, not even realizing I was about thirty feet away. Wasn’t wearing a mask, either.