William Cullen Bryant Preserve - The Reluctant Student

A reluctant 7th grade student son once asked me to take him to a place where he could fulfill his assignment: Write about his sensory experiences in a place deep in nature and remote from the influence of man and man-made things.

Almost idyllic: One of the hiking trails in William Cullen Bryant Preserve

In southeast suburban Long Island, New York that is no trivial task. let's see, natural forests in Manhattan o exist way up near where I used to live, by the Cloisters near the West Side highway above 200th St. In Northern Nassau Country, however, the options are few and far between unless you are "in the know." There's Trail View State Park, and some places in Hempstead Lake S.P., maybe.

Bethpage State Park? I'd put that in the almost category too. But with the usual teenager's "Er ...I forgot this is due tomorrow"-type deadlines, and what with the other mandatory house upkeep chores that had to be done, this one got left to the butt-end of a very warm and humid October afternoon.

We're lucky, though. Nearby is a little known treasure: William Cullen Bryant Preserve, and it sits in back of the Nassau Museum of Art. There used to be a $2-toll-taker at the gate, but either it's not worth the return on investment, or it's free parking on Sundays.

The trails are almost mountainbike single-track worthy. In some parts overgrown, in others well-trodden. Our quest, I thought would best be served by the "Ravine Trail," which leads to an circumnavigates a minor cut into the heights of Roslyn. I can only guess it's been cut by water, as near the bottom it devolves into swampy terrain that outlets into Hempstead Harbor, a wee "fjord" in the lateral moraine of the North Shore.

On a hot day this hike will work up a sweat for sure, but getting fully into nature takes going off-trail. We talked, Gordon wrote and took notes. With a ll the sweat a good place for a Rite in the Rain tactical notepad, but a regular ruled notebook was just fine, since I was the one sweating and he was the one carrying and not perspiring at all. Youth is wasted on the ... Well you know how that goes.