#esopus creek

[steerage]

hi! i just left a comment on your fic Esopus Creek and to avoid clogging up your ao3 comments i thougth id message you here! what inspired you to write that fic? whats your favorite part? also i hope youre doing well!!

Hi!! Thank you for that comment! And thank you for extending the conversation here! I don't think I've ever gotten a message on Tumblr about my fic. The inspiration came after watching the finale and wondering "okay, they ride off into the sunset... love that... but what next?". I've lived in some pretty quiet communities in the Northeast before and that final shot in the episode just felt like all those places I loved so much. I wanted the story to be contemplative and realstic, so I let the reality of the situation drive the story. I did so much research about things I never would have imagined. Like fly fishing, property values in upstate NY and probate! My favorite parts are definitely the little snippets of House and Wilson's conversations in the river. I just always heard those bits the most clearly in their voices. Thank you again for the message!

[dragonagitator]

House MD post-canon fanfic rec: "Esopus Creek"

i did not have "be completely emotionally destroyed" on my to-do list for tonight and yet here we are

[sneckoil]

Hiii do you have any more housemd/hilson fic recs? I read your top 3 and they were all delightful 😭😭 if not no worries, your blog is so fun!!!

hey! Haha. I have a couple!

Witness, Witness by SkyeBean

(everything is the same except wilson works in princeton general — really fun! It was surprisingly, extremely well-thought out! I liked the characterizations in this one, I found what changes rly interesting)

Esopus Creek by shaycat

(Post-finale. Extremely sad, but also hopeful. A nice alternative to both of them going out, mostly from an outsider’s POV. Very sweet. And subtle. lots of fishing)

Unplanned Parenthood by pleasuretoburn

(Sequel to The Evolutionary Imperative, by the same author. Reading the previous work is required for full appreciation. There’s a part in this that made me sob because it was such a small but meaningful divergence from canon while still acknowledging what happened in canon)

i may not be as honest as i ought to be by Talls

(THE ONE INSPIRED BY PHANTOM THREAD AHAHHHAH. House gets sick. Interesting things happen. I’d say this phantom threadish dynamic would be stretching it in Any Other Relationship. BUT IT FITS PERFECTLY WITH HOUSE AND WILSON HISTORY….)

[thefuturewithoutus]

per your recent post i would love some house md amv and fic recs.. planning to watch s8 very soon

YES!!!!! okay i'll link everything season 8 related. i don't watch as many amvs as i should so the first two are season 8 related and the others just make me emotional.

amvs

- i bet on losing dogs by @cinemapphic

- self promoting lol but tropic of cancer

- teardrop by @alonetogether

fics

- together, in all things by sebviathan

- esopus creek by shaycat

- love is blind, deaf, and walks with a limp by iwantedtosavetheworld

- and i fight time (it won in a landslide) by @mayfieldarc

misc

- this poem by @ocdwilson

- c word comparative with angels in america part 1 / part 2 by @buckysoldatbarnes

[devotioncrater]

just finished reading esopus creek

[jekkarox]

Serene Summer morning on vacation.

Esopus Creek - Phoenicia, NY.

[puutterings]

almost pleasant at this distance

        He rose and with a laborious pretense of dawdling sauntered to the door, out and around the house to where the tulip tree stood. As if idly, he leaned against the trunk and studied the sprawl of its roots. Some of them were thicker than a young tree. They writhed and contorted the ground. Standing still like pythons petrified, they yet seemed to move with a speed the more dreadful for its persistence. Glaciers were not more leisurely, nor more resistless.       The roots dived into the earth, some of them bent upon reading the foundation walls. They had but one instinct, the hunt for water, and nothing could check them but death.       Down the outside stairway of the cellar went RoBards and stumbing in the dark found the wall nearest the tree and passed his hands along it like a blind man.       His anxious fingers encountered tendrils pleached against the rough masonry. He made a light and found that the tulip tree was already within the walls. The roots were like worms covered with mould. On the cellar floor was a dust of old mortar, and bits of it slowly shoved out from between the chinks. Some of the dislodged mortar was no older than the night when he had lifted out stones and buried Jud Lasher somewhere inside there and smeared fresh mortar in the crevices.       Terrified by the peril of this secret inquiry of the far-delving roots, he went back to the outer air.       Either he must be surrendered to exposure or the tree must be executed. The life of such a triee if let alone was far beyond the human span. The strength of it was uncanny.       He stood a while, as motionless as the roots, charmed by their snaky spell. Then an idea came to his rescue. He called to Albeson, who was puttering about the yard in his Sunday-go-to-meetin’s with his collar off for comfort.       “See those roots,” said RoBards. “They’re going to tip the house over if we don’t kill them. Get your saw and ax and we’ll cut them off now.”

—

ex Within These Walls, by Rupert Hughes (1923) : 273 University of Illinois copy : link (missing title page, typewritten instead) same, via hathitrust : link, but LoC copy : link (missing frontispiece, but other illustrations present; and names Arthur Ignatius Keller as illustrator)

—

remarkable, beautifully written, engineering-nuanced final chapter, about flooding a valley (behind a dam) to provide water to New York. The water rises, to cover Tuliptree Farm, the scene of a crime. This is chapter 55, entire —

      A strip of land two hundred feet wide and ninety-two miles long must be secured by condemation and purchase, from Esopus Creek to New York across thousands of farms, and a siphon must be driven a thousand feet under the Hudson River between Storm King and Breakneck.       The work involved the submersion or removal of sixty-four miles of highways, and eleven miles of railroad, nine villages and thirty-two cemeteries of nearly three thousand graves, some of them more than two centuries old.       And Tuliptree Farm with its graves was only one of this multitude. Keith and Immy fought the city in vain. Nothing they could do could halt the invading army of fifteen hundred workmen that established itself at Valhalla and began to dam the Bronx abouve White Plains.       The dam was of cyclopean concrete, eighteen hundred feet across, and it was made to hold thirty-eight billion gallons of water. Which was only a fifty-day supply for New York.       The new lake with its forty miles of shore line would obliterate no villages and few burial places. But one of those few was the Robards’ plot and Keith trembled to think that when the house came down and the cellar walls were removed piecemeal, the bones of Jud Lasher would be disclosed. p 355-359 : link

...One little coffin was found there which Keith could not account for.       That was Immy’s secret and she kept it, though it ached in her old heart, remembering the wild romance of her youth. A blush slipped through her wrinkles and the shame was almost pleasant at this distance. p 360 : link

—

Arthur Ignatius Keller (1867-1924), wikipedia : link  

[krashoffthebooks]

Esopus Creek, West of 5 arches construction October 2022

[railbikes]

Route Review: Rail Explorers Catskill Division

Launched in 2018, the Rail Explorers Catskill Division River Run starts at the old train station in Phoenicia, NY and runs on track of the former Ulster and Delaware Railroad along the Esopus Creek. Since the Catskill Mountain Railroad ceased tourist operations on this scenic stretch of track in 2016, Rail Explorers has brought new life--and maintenance--to this historic line. I pedalled this route in July of 2018 and some details have changed as described below. Operations are closed for the winter, but will resume on May 18th and bookings are already being taken.

The Site

Nestled in the eastern Catskills, the start of the route is in the yard of the former Phoenicia Train Station, which is listed in the National Register of Historic Places and houses the Empire State Railway Museum. The yard and sheds are home to a collection of locomotives, coaches and cabooses. Until their lease with Ulster County expired in 2016, the Catskill Mountain Railroad used the station and equipment for tourist rides along the same alignment.

The Route

Running along the Esopus Creek, the River Run is a leisurely 8-mile (12.9 km) round trip beside campgrounds and country homes. At one point, the tracks cross Route 28 and the riders are treated to protection from traffic with crossing gates and signals originally installed for the railroad. 

At the turnaround, riders wait in a seating area while the railbikes are turned around using on-track turntables (shown here in former routes in the Brandywine Valley, Delaware and Saranac Lake, NY).

Given that the Esopus Creek feeds the Ashokan Reservoir, a major element of the NYC water supply, there are strict environmental standards in place along the route. Always innovators, Rail Explorers founders Mary Joy and Alex Catchpoole devised a way to keep the tracks clear of overgrowth without using polluting chemicals. Here is their trailer-mounted mower, which can be towed behind a rail bike.

The 4 miles (6.4 km) used by Rail Explorers are part of 38 miles (61 km) of line owned by Ulster County, which is part of the greater line that formerly ran from Kingston Point on the Hudson River to Oneonta, NY where it met the Delaware and Hudson Railroad. Originally envisioned as a summertime-only connection to resorts in the Catskill Mountains, it eventually ran year-round carrying both passengers and freight and served branch lines to Hunter and Kaaterskill. The second half of the 20th Century saw the demise of the line, with mail and passenger service ending in 1954 and freight service ending in 1976.

The 2.4 miles (3.9 km) from Kingston Point to the Rondout neighborhood of Kingston, NY are now used by the Trolley Museum of New York. The section from Kingston to Hurley is used for tourist train excursions by the Catskill Mountain Railroad. Beyond Ulster County, the Delaware and Ulster Railroad run tourist trains around Arkville, NY.

Closer to Phoenicia, many bridges and creekside tracks have been washed away by storms and flooding since the closure of the railroad, isolating the section from other operations. Furthermore, exposed to similar spacial politics of several routes described in this blog, the future of the line is in question and  subject to a legal battle over the use of the right-of-way, with Ulster County planning to remove much of the track to create a recreational trail. The section in use by Rail Explorers appears to be safe from this plan, although the future of the tourist trains remains unclear.

The Vehicles

I pedalled this route aboard the steel-framed, cast-iron-wheeled railbikes described in my earlier post on the Rail Explorers Las Vegas Division. However, as noted on the Rail Explorers website, they offer a “new Rail Explorers fleet of rail bikes, now with electric pedal assistance!” I look forward to returning to Phoenicia this year to see the new railbikes. Here is a great shot of a tandem from Saranac Lake on Rail Explorers Instagram account.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rail Explorers USA (@railexplorersusa) on Feb 14, 2019 at 8:19am PST

Travel Notes

While Phoenicia is typically reached by car, Trailways offers daily buses from New York City through New Paltz, Kingston and on to Oneonta. It is a short walk from the center of the hamlet to the starting point at the station. The completion of the Empire State Trail in connection with the recreational trail planned by Ulster County might offer options for reaching Phoenicia by bicycle in the future.

Phoenicia is a popular tourist destination, perhaps best known for whitewater tubing along the Esopus Creek, and centrally located near many options for hiking, skiing and fly-fishing. Nearby Belleayre Ski Resort offers summertime gondola rides for hiking, mountain biking and sightseeing. Main Street in Phoenicia has a small stretch of shops, pizzerias, bars and restaurants. The nightlife in nearby Woodstock has picked back up in recent years, especially thanks to the Station Bar and Curio, where one can enjoy drinks and live music in a station that used to serve the same line described above.

[takinpictsofroadsnrails]

Esopus Creek, New York (2010)

[1five1two]

'Early Autumn on Esopus Creek'. Alfred Thompson Bricher. 1861-1897.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

B-52s lead singer Kate Pierson and her wife, artist Monica Coleman, bought this 6.5-acre Catskills property in the early 2000s, turning it into a retro “love shack.” With a total of 10 guest accommodations- the motel, called Kate’s Lazy Meadow, is just outside Woodstock, New York. But, b/c they own other properties, they decided it was time to pass the torch and hope that someone who will turn it into a family compound, buys it. 

It was, coincidentally, built in 1952, and Kate & Monica outfitted the cabins with mid-century furnishings, bright colors, and loads of kitschy decor. Everything is included in the $2,200,000 sale.

Kate said that she warmed up to the idea of owning a hotel after so many years of staying in them while traveling with the band.

Another fun thing is the authentic 1950s refurbished kitchens you’ll find throughout the cabins.

Each of the 10 units was curated to perfection in a style that Kate described as “midcentury-modern fantasy land.”

Classic knotty pine!

She acquired a lot of the tchotchkes antiquing while on tour with the B52s, but, she says, “I just shopped ’til I dropped,” after buying the property.

Included are some high-brow pieces like Eames chairs and a Scandinavian vintage Malm gas fireplace.

In total, there are 13 bedrooms, 11 bathrooms, and 4,795 square feet of interior space. This is spread over three buildings with eight, three, and two bedrooms each.

There’s also a Japanese-style plunge pool.

The property is just two hours from New York City, on the banks of Esopus Creek, which is famous for fly fishing and tubing. You can enjoy the mountain views from Adirondack chairs, picnic tables, and a fire pit on the grounds.

https://www.6sqft.com/kate-pierson-of-the-b-52s-lists-her-retro-catskills-compound-for-2-2m/

[ratsalad]

ok ok i have read some of ur house posts and i HAVE TO recommend "esopus creek" by shaycat on ao3!!! please dont let the oc being a main focus stop you from reading it, it's genuinely one of the best fics i have read. i wont spoil it but i think you would like the ending of it very much

hey, thanks for the rec! i just looked up the fic and it's tagged "major character death" - now i know you didn't want to spoil it for me, but could you let me know if house dies in it? it isn't tagged "suicide," and if the posts you're referring to are the ones i'm thinking of then you probably sent me this knowing how i feel about house dying, so i'm hopeful that he doesn't, but just to be on the safe side i'd like to know. i read a couple fics in which he does die and i became so upset i decided i'd avoid those.

in any case, it's awfully kind of you to bother sending me this ask! i was mostly shouting into the void when i was liveblogging house so it's such an unexpected surprise when the void shouts back. thank you!

[guerrerense]

Viscose 6, Mount Pleasant, NY, 2015 por Otto Vondrak Por Flickr: Passing a bend along the Esopus Creek, on the Catskill Mountain Railroad, August 8, 2015.

[theberryboy]

hey this is just a call for anyone in the house fandom who has season eight trauma and also ships hilson to read this fic

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/26428060

it follows house and wilson post-series and it’s told from the pov of an oc (eugene for the win i love him) and i think it literally might be my favorite hilson fic i’ve read, it’s. really good.

[moodboardinthecloud]

Gathering Council: World of Witnesses

by Sophie Strand 

https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=10226588198557848&set=a.1499832382446

Scarlet Tanager. Woodcock. Yellow-throated Vireo. Thimbleweed. St. John’s Wort.Black locust. Honey locust. King Bolete. Cayuga Soil. Schist. Bluestone. Turkeytail. Mountain lion. Coy Wolf. Trillium. Columbine. Mountain Laurel. The Shawangunk Mountain Range. The Esopus Creek. The Millstream. Sturgeon. Purple Loosestrife. Wolf spider. Chanterelle. Osha. Phlox….The litany lasts about an hour, or as long as it takes for me to boil the water for my pour over of coffee and watch streamers of clementine dawn stripe across my living room. Lately, it’s spilled into my early morning run. But by the time I’m done summoning and sending thanks to every being I know in a twenty-mile radius of my home, I’m surrounded by a world of witnesses. The day begins within a more-than-human community. And my decisions henceforth– practical, creative, and spiritual – will be made with the knowledge that I exist in relationship. Everything I do is ecological. When I used the word ecological, I root back to the original etymology: Greek oikos for household. I am not a noun on an empty page. I do nothing alone. I am a syntactical being, strung together by my metabolism and needs and desires, to thousands of other beings. Together we are all a household, and every choice we make, mundane or explosive, takes place within the networked household of relationships. I did not arrive at this practice intellectually. It was not an exercise or a molded habit. It was a lifeline. Anyone who has been seriously ill, or has had a near death experience, will know that it cuts the metaphysical chaff. Illness and injury act like a bottleneck. You are squeezed through, pressurized and simplified. Only the most intrinsic beliefs, prayers, and ideas travel with you through to the other side. I was raised by spiritual parents who wrote about and researched religion and mantric prayer. I was given beads and taught Tibetan Buddhist, Zen, and Catholic prayers from a very young age. I found these repetitive vocalizations to be steadying. But I often struggled with the abstraction of the Christian prayers and the language barrier between me and the Buddhist mantras. Drawn to study, understand, and reinterpret the words, I was increasingly cognitive about prayer, rather than embodied. But after my first-time experiencing anaphylaxis, one of the charming bouquet of symptoms that arrived with the onset of my genetic condition at sixteen, I realized the prayers evaporated with oxygen. As my throat narrowed and my blood pressure dropped, as I watched the people around me reflect my own panic, I realized the only thing that stayed were the animals, and the fungi, and the trees, and the mountains. In those moments I found myself growing as small as a sunflower seed, planting myself on the sandy banks of a river island, halfway down the Battenkill River. I could see a sapphire splash of a kingfisher in the water. Smell sunlight baking the ryegrass into sweetness. Feel the drifting lick of a dragonfly darting across my shoulder blades. I was suspended between life and death. But I was held, not by a prayer or a god or an idea, but by a landscape. By the aliveness that was me, and was also much deeper than me. I didn’t learn this lesson immediately. Not the second, not the seventh, not even the fifteenth time I came through the bottleneck. But each narrow passage winnowed me down to essentials. And what I kept coming back to, in hospital beds, on the bathroom floor, in the ambulance, in my own arms, late at night, trying to assess whether or not to drive myself to the hospital, was that while very little of human civilization stayed with me or offered comfort, an entire universe of life exploded on the other side of these experiences, welcoming me into a greater sense of community. I found myself remembering the mountain lion eyes I once stared into, the marble head of the bald eagle somehow distinct against the similarly white haze of a blizzard. The glittering scent of the lilac grove overtaking the old bluestone quarries on Lewis Hollow. Soon, when I went to pray, I found myself summoning my counsel, in gratitude and also in a petition for their help and their instructive audience. How best may I act? How may I act knowing you are watching tenderly and attentively? What stories do I need to notice? What stories want to be told? Who needs my help today? And whose help can I receive? The potent thing about creating a counsel of beings you live alongside, is that, unlike an abstracted god, they actually show up. The heron does, in fact, dissect the sky, providing a symbol of incisiveness just at the moment when you need to make a decision. The ground really does provide a soil womb for the food that you will eat and metabolize into music, laughter, dance, heated breath on a windowpane, lovemaking. The fungi really do hold the forest together and provide a medicine that heals your brain and rewires your immune system. These are the guardian angels that have roots instead of wings. They are attached to place, and the more you summon them, the more they will show you that there is a miracle in every footstep, a deep abiding embrace in every biome-laced breath of fresh air. This is not a taxonomical exercise. Any name will do. Any way of tracking that invisible and intimate line of connection between you and another being. You exist, not as one end of that thread, but vibrating along its connection. Anything you do to harm yourself, harms other animals and trees and insects. Anything that nourishes other beings, may ultimately nourish you. And when you are suffering, when you are very scared, you do not need to remember a single prayer, or say a holy word. Your body, a doorway poured through with matter, a spider-webbing of relatedness, is prayer enough. Every second you stay present with your connectivity to your ecosystem is sacred, somatic, lived epiphany. If you pray, ask yourself, does your prayer have roots? Does your god sometimes grow fur? Do your holy words grow leaves? Does your spirituality connect you into your situated ecosystem? If you want, it is a lovely thing to slowly name all those beings that make up your environment. And to seek out new relationships to further flesh out this relational prayer. Gather counsel as you would wildflowers. Pick the ones that show up brightly, insistently, and show you they notice you, just as much as you notice them. Gather counsel as you would pick up a few flat stones to skip across the river. Gather counsel as you would stars, without your hands, held only as a flash of light, in the prismatic blink of an open eye.

Image by @tinorodrigriguezartist and @virgoparaiso