My First Bridge: The Dutch Kills Drawbridge

     If asked which bridge is the first one that I have climbed, then I would have to say it is the Dutch Kills Drawbridge. Part of the Long Island Railroad, though close to the Bushwick branch, this architectural disaster (don't get me wrong, I love bridges, but this had a very shoddy design) seemed as though it was going to tip over at any minute. However, I found a set of stairs leading to the top, and the warm air tempted me to go upward. Though it was dark, construction workers were milling about in the nearby sanitation plant. I kept myself as low as I could and took pictures. I left, somehow ending up at a LIRR station.
     I had no idea that by crossing into these tracks I was in Long Island Railroad property! I even pressed buttons on some of the machines to see if they worked, and, surely enough, they were active. My unintentional trespass was made even more sinister by the fact that several police cars silently lurked directly outside the station. However, I managed to slip out undisturbed through a cut in a fence and went on my way.

A few months later, a fellow explorer asked if I would like to adventure with her and we walked the Bushwick Branch, then went over the river to this bridge. We both felt that the bridge was sketchy, and noticed worker crews less than 100 feet away from us, but ascended anyway. Though the bridge is not much of a looker, I guess it was my first, and that makes it special for me.

Freedom Tunnel: West Side Stitch

What to do on a dark cold February day? Well, Freedom Tunnel is always a frequent spot for me, and for my sixth time into the tunnel, I decided that I was going to explore the West Side Stitch. The West Side Stitch is what I refer to as the stretch of tunnel that runs from 70th Street down to Penn Station, where the Amtrak trains begin making their rounds. There have been many rumors about the size of the tunnels, so let's clear them up. Attributing this arcane knowledge to personal experience I can personally affirm that the tunnel starts at Penn and terminates at around 122nd street. Though this estimate is approximate, it is the closest guess you will get to the actual breadth of the tunnel.

The tunnel branches off into two from 70th to 60th (again, approximate values); one that the trains pass through and another one which is rail-free. This rail-less tunnel cuts near to the basements of various buildings, most notably the Trump Towers, underneath which a single camera of questionable competence lies. Both tunnels are adorned with lights that give off a strange glow.





I used to never pass the Sniper's Alley that lay beyond 60th street for fear of being spotted. As I showed a friend around the 10 block stretch of the double tunnel, I began to turn back and head for home. But this wasn't life affirming. There was more mystery to be uncovered beyond those stretches which I had already seen. As daylight reduced to dark blue ambiance, I made the decision that tonight would be my time to explore the West Side Stitch.

Now the issue with exploring tunnels is that they get very dark, and at night you are stumbling through pitch darkness, tripping over rails and electrical boxes as you make your way across. While I wished I was armed with a flashlight to circumvent these obstacles, I managed to use the light glow from my camcorder to navigate through the tunnel.

Fortunately, the pitch blackness of the tunnels was quelled with a few sparse yellow and white lights that skirt around the area. The Stitch has several patches which let out into open air and overlook the large residential buildings of Manhattan. Looking up at them from an underground position, it becomes clear why these buildings are known as skyscrapers. Then, after a patch of open air, it's back into the dusty tunnels, where a quality of eerie beauty lingers.











There are no murals here; only some well constructed graffiti pieces and hastily scrawled tags. The real exploration of the tunnel stems from the several nooks and crannies which exist there: pillars and rock quarries. Ladders that lead up out into open air. Excellent hiding places from the bright glow and loud rumble of the train.







Once more the pyramid imparts sage wisdom onto me as it did during the last visit, this time asking, "What is Truth?" I ponder this, and wonder about the several rumors that surround the tunnel. The "Mole People", the homeless that exist here, still do hide out in the tunnel, as I have seen from previous visits, but there is much less of them now. In fact, nothing can contrast more starkly with the non-presence of people underneath the busy Manhattan streets than the abundance of those walking above it, oblivious to the explorers they are striding over.



However, there were two homeless people that we met along these tunnels. The first was a Hispanic who claimed to have paid Amtrak $500 to be given a key to an entrance to these tunnels. He told us that he remembered some people coming around and exploring here a few years ago, with bulky camera equipment. Sitting down on the rails, captivated by his words, he gave us the advice not to walk all the way to Penn Station and to turn back at around 38th street. He then asked us for some food, which we apologized for not having, and then walked on.

As we carried on towards Penn, a low moaning came from a makeshift house. Affirming that we were just passing through, the rambling stopped. Further down we saw another rail skimming alongside us. Out of nowhere, I pointed out, it was a third rail that had suddenly appeared. Now, if a train were to bear down, we could either take its impact or jump out of the way only to be electrocuted.

We still kept going, stopping only by a track fire that we spotted ten yards away. Captivated by the mystic dancing of the flames, and not really sure what to do in a situation like this, we turned back.

As we made our way back, we were confronted by a friendly African American homeless man who had apologized for his prior behavior, stating, "I was a little drunk". Like the previous man we encountered, he asked for food, and I was starting to see that all the homeless want in these shantytowns that they built for themselves was a little bread on their plate. They seem like calm, rational people.

I gave him the last of my water and he asked,

"Don't you guys have curfew or something?"

Consulting my phone, I conveyed,

"It's only eight o' clock." 8:00 PM in winter in New York, however, is incredibly dark.

"Oh. Well don't you get caught here."

"People still come around here?"

"Yeah, the workers...they used to... but not so much anymore. Just be careful."

                      With those words, we made our way back across to where we entered the Stitch.

Bushwick Branch

     Like the illustrious Freedom Tunnel, this was a spot that I had stumbled upon during my frequent ramblings around the city, but I had only realized what it was and made the decision to explore it in depth after learning more about it via Internet. It would most certainly not be the first time I walked along a stretch of rail.
     Some covered, graffiti'd parts are also reminiscent of parts of that tunnel. Though the Bushwick Branch is named after a neighborhood in Brooklyn, it mostly runs along Queens; snaking through neighborhoods like Maspeth and Long Island City.
    While those who have went here before have warned, the track is perpetuated by homeless and dogs. While I did see an abundance of homeless camps and noticed a homeless man walking, bald head turned toward the ground, I had yet to see any dogs. However, cats skittered along the ground as I walked; subtle ninjas.
     The track passes along various industry in Brooklyn and Queens and is itself rarely used, perhaps even less so than the Bay Ridge Branch. Another similarity that it shares with that branch is that there are mainly freights that chug along that line. This all day endeavor was my own tour of the branch.

There was a lot of graffiti along this rarely used track.

This rat seems to be omnipresent in  New York City.

     As I am wont to do with most tall structures, I had climbed this device, only to find myself swaying powerfully along with it, though not without a nice view.

      As I passed through this very sketchy, dark tunnel without a flashlight, I held my breath hoping that there was no one on the other side of the wall waiting for me. My mind contorted my fears into the hallucinatory sounds of people whispering. I made it out to the other end, relieved.

     As I clambered up this car to get a better view, I saw that these train cars were stuffed with sand. Fortunately, due to the remoteness of this branch line, you can find solitude along this stretch of railroad.

                    Look closely in this sunset photo; you might spot what I believe to be the Chrysler Building.

The Bay Ridge Branch

  "I don't know why. I'm not an impulsive person".
  -Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

      This should be a tale of a young adult's heroism and overpowering sense of adventure. This should be about how he/she braved an oncoming slew of traffic from one side and a flanking from pedestrians and still managed to hop a tall spiked fence. This should be about that. But it isn't. Instead, let me tell you a tale of human incompetence and dumb luck.
      On the same day that I was exploring the Rockaway Branch I decided, on a total whim on the way home, to make my way to the Bay Ridge branch (just for a peek). This is location has gained infamy even among my non-exploring friends, and they cutely refer to it as, "The Avenue H Station". The seemingly abandoned Bay Ridge Branch, however, does run through that part of town. This was a location I had passed several times and peered into the fence, and have longed for an occasion (perhaps at night) where I could jump the fence and explore the place. However, it turned out I didn't need to.
     My eyes hopped from the prickly fence top to the frigid metallic padlock chain. Wait, what chain? The door ajar just ever so slightly, it invited me to enter. I couldn't believe it. The door was left open? How long was it like that? Perhaps it was only for a day. Even so, if I had decided to come just a day later, the place would be chained up and getting in would be so much more difficult. Wary of workers, I slipped through the thin crack in the door and vaulted over the rail to hide myself from the publicly viewable stairs. How many people have passed by this location without even making the conscious effort to peer beyond the gates? This is the importance of keeping plants of curiosity freshly cultivated in your mind, as well as saplings of impulsiveness - because acting on a hunch may provide you with the rich opportunity I had.
     Dark. The world was dark, and the only light shone in from a strange overhead angle. Contributing to the blackness, I had to walk in the shadows to ensure I wasn't seen from pedestrians from above, or any random homeless or workers.
     At one point, I climbed up a rusted set of stairs to peer through a grating. One of the stairs was missing and it looked like someone might've fell through the gap. Imagine stepping on a stair you believed to be sturdy only to have it collapse and crash to the ground eleven feet on impact. Time to turn back. As I went down gently, I heard bits of rust from the stairs rain down onto the dirt. Though the track is still active, it feels like nobody has been here for a long, long time.

      You see that elevated spot in the middleground? The R train passes through there between 59 Street to Bay Ridge Avenue and back. If you take the R and pass between these stations, make sure to steal a peek out the window. In the background to the left appears to be the line which the N train runs on. From this point, one can see three train lines at the same time!

     If you want to check out more on this long forgotten place, check out Nathan Kensinger's photo essay on the Bay Ridge Branch.  It's cool seeing his summetime shots because they contrast grealty with the barren winter I was shooting in. This site provides a virtual tour of this branch.                              

Many subsequent expeditions planned. And now, a little photo from the archives.

                                                  

These are tracks from an abandoned trolley station in Sunset Park. It's not worth a whole trip to check out the line, but if you're nearby, it's cool to see it. Peace, everyone!