With amiable companions—Kerry-Jane King, Stuart Cadenhead and Peter Swiderski—Deirdre and I hiked a section of the Palisades yesterday that is directly across the Hudson River from our home.
In the process, we crossed a field of boulders that had peeled off the cliff one Saturday evening in May with an ominous and mysterious grumble. Stu Cadenhead aptly dubbed it The Crumble. An article in The Record calls it a "a 10,000-ton pile of rubble and dust."
The Hudson is about a mile wide at Hastings. It's about a quarter mile more, across the railroad tracks and up a hill, to our home of 25 years (this very month!). In fact, I've been staring at the Palisades since my family moved to Spuyten Duyvil in the Bronx in 1962 but have only been to the other side to look back across once — about 20 years ago — and had never walked the shoreline.
There is a moral to be drawn here, no doubt, but I'll let others belabor it.