The Orange Fence Revisited

It had been a while since I called on Inwood Hill Park—or Inwood Park for short—in the northernmost reaches of Manhattan. As young boys, my brothers and I dubbed the place the “Orange Fence.” Why? Because there was a rather extended and quite circuitous iron fence in the park that was painted an unusually bright orange. The fence has since been repainted black and—by the looks of things—could use a fresh coat or two. Honestly, the venerable Orange Fence is showing some serious signs of age, revealing in spots its original orange paint along with a tenaciously competing rust.

My brothers and I frolicked in Inwood Park about a half-century ago. An aunt, who knew its interior like the back of her hand, was our adult chaperone. The park's 196.4 acres were approximately a mile from our Bronx front door. My aunt and her family—my future grandmother, grandfather, father, and uncle—first visited the park in the early 1930s. She was just a little girl at the time. My grandfather, I'm told, always brought along a homemade bottle of wine and cooled it in a freshwater spring running down the park's hilly terrain. One and all picnicked on an isolated but very picturesque stretch of sand near where the Harlem River meets the Hudson River. The Henry Hudson Bridge was eventually constructed at this confluence and cut off access to my relations' personal beach and little piece of heaven. During the bridge’s building, workers accessed icy cold freshwater from the very spring that my grandfather chilled his vino.

From a kid’s perspective, Inwood Park was idyllic: rivers, boat traffic, horn-blowing trains, a cool-looking bridge, and—last but not least—steep and wending trails into Manhattan’s last remaining virgin forest. The Lenape Indians once inhabited the environs of Inwood Park. Legend has it that Peter Minuit purchased Manhattan Island for a song in what is now the park. The Continental Army's Fort Cockhill was within its confines, too.

Crossing the rather ominous-looking Broadway Bridge, which is no Henry Hudson Bridge, indicated we were getting closer and closer to our destination.

Fifty years ago, there was a really nice bakery and a Carvel ice cream store along this strip leading to the bridge. Carvel's was a regular and always welcome stopover on our return from the Orange Fence. Well, that was then and this is now. I see that a Yelp reviewer posted a picture of JOHN'S from 2016, where its sign read "JHON'S." One correction at a time...

And a river runs through it...

The Orange Fence lives all these years later...

The Henry Hudson Bridge literally slices through the last natural forestland in Manhattan. Robert Moses didn't care about such things.

I neglected to mention that a very special part of Inwood Park's unique ambiance is the Columbia Rock, or "C" Rock. The C was originally painted on the rock, which was once part of the Johnson Iron Works Foundry, in 1952 by members of the Columbia University rowing crew. They maintain it to this day.

The rock's apex is also the stuff of legend, where generations of game youths have leaped some 200 feet into the treacherous currents of the Harlem River. Many of the jumpers in their adulthood incarnations refer to the act as a "Rite of Passage." Passage to what exactly, I don't know. The Columbia Rock is on railroad property and, officially, in the Bronx. On the silver screen, Leonardo DiCaprio jumped off of it in The Basketball Diaries.

The Circle Line cruise, which circles the entirety of Manhattan Island was and still is a regular sighting from the shores of Inwood Park. As a boy, I remember being on the Circle Line and desiring getting off right here, close to home. But, no, that's not the way it worked. The boat had to complete the circle to Pier 83 at 42nd Street.

Waterfowl, too, abound in the park.

Sorry, no soup for you!

I have always wondered why certain sea birds choose to call home where they do. Happily, the waters around these parts are a whole lot cleaner than they were back in the Orange Fence days. So, why not call home New York City?

A Robin and its worm on the Orange Fence.

It was a hazy, hot, and humid day in which I made my return to Inwood Park. A typical New York City summer day then as well as now. But no post-visit Carvel treat for me on this go-round.

The ascending, zigzagging trails into the Inwood Park woods are not for the faint of heart. Getting lost in Manhattan Island woodlands is still possible in 2019. They are also places where you don't want to run into a Jeffrey Dahmer-type.

In the distant haze are the Palisades in New Jersey. Yet another pleasing visual from the confines of this park.

Here is a Metro North train passing by the former John F. Kennedy High School in the backdrop. It's still a school or schools now, part of "campus." The school grounds are where many a fine game of stickball was played by me and mine. The Harlem River, by the way, does not mark the dividing line between Manhattan and the Bronx, like the original Spuyten Duyvil Creek did. Before its rerouting and such, the creek flowed on the other side of the high school and what is now W230th Street. It wended its way from there along what is now Johnson Avenue. So, the school and the asphalt where we played stickball on are in Manhattan. The "C" Rock, on the western side of the old creek bed, is in the Bronx.

Mutt Mitts are now scattered throughout New York City parks. This one in the wilds of Inwood Park has been commandeered by local birds.

Yes, time marches on. The fence that was orange, then black, is now a melange of black, orange, and rust.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)