A Visit to Tillson Lake near New Paltz
Tillson Lake was never a natural lake. It was made by a man who saw promise in swamp. In nineteen twenty two a farm dealer and cattle trader from Walden named Hassie Tillson began to buy acre after acre of marshy ground below the Shawangunk Ridge. The land was wet and difficult, cut through by the Palmaghatt Kill. In nineteen twenty nine Hassie decided to dam the Kill and create a lake where there had been only bog. Then he built a resort around it. There was a golf course where men played on summer evenings, a roller skating rink that rang with music, a large pavilion for dances, rowboats for hire, excellent fishing, timber docks, diving platforms, gazebos for shade, badminton courts, food counters selling sandwiches and cold drinks, wide grassy banks for picnics and ample parking for families who came from near and far to watch swimming races and regattas. For many years this was the most popular place in the area.
People who grew up in Gardiner still speak of those glory days with real affection. After Hassie the lake passed to Dominick Porco who respected its spirit and kept it open as a treasured public destination. In the late nineteen seventies Porco sold it to a member of the Unanue family who own Goya Foods. The new owner proposed a development of trailers that would have ringed the lake and closed public access. The Town of Gardiner refused permission in nineteen eighty two. In retaliation the owner pulled the plug and drained the lake. What had been sparkling water became a field of invasive weeds with a thin sad stream running through it. It remained like that for twelve years and locals thought it was lost.
Then came the next chapter. John Bradley who owned the twenty five hundred acre Awosting Reserve purchased the land and proposed a gated community of two hundred and forty nine luxury houses described as starter castles with the lake as a private amenity. A grassroots organisation called Save the Ridge fought the plan with extraordinary determination. The case went to court and eventually a judge ordered the property to be sold to the Trust for Public Land and the Open Space Institute. In two thousand and six Tillson Lake was finally given to the Minnewaska State Park Preserve and to its managing agency the Palisades Interstate Park Commission. For a while it seemed saved and people celebrated.
Today the lake is again at risk though for a different reason. The Department of Environmental Conservation has changed its safety rules for dams. Earlier a dam had to withstand a one hundred year flood. Because of climate change the standard has been raised to a five hundred year flood. The Tillson Lake dam now needs major upgrades and its spillway is considered damaged. It will cost about three point five million dollars to take the dam apart and about three point seven million dollars to repair it. The difference is small. Friends of Tillson Lake led by President Morey Gottesman believe that if enough people use the lake and make their voices heard to legislators in Albany the state will choose repair over removal. Tillson Lake is now the easiest lake to reach in Minnewaska. It is the only lake in the Preserve where fishing is allowed and one of only two where free boating and kayaking with a permit are allowed. It is a place worth fighting for.
The lake itself sits near Wallkill and Gardiner within Minnewaska State Park Preserve surrounded by woodland and low hills with the long blue line of the Shawangunks behind. The water is calm and often reflects the sky like a mirror. Deer come to drink at dawn and herons stand still at the edge. It is quiet and simple and that is its charm.
New Paltz which is our base for this story deserves a full description because it is far more than a stop on the way to a lake. It is one of the most loved small towns in the Hudson Valley in Ulster County with a history that goes back to sixteen seventy eight when twelve French Huguenot families settled here to escape religious persecution. Their stone houses still stand on Huguenot Street which is said to be the oldest street in America with its original houses. These houses are low and solid built of fieldstone with thick walls small windows and wide fireplaces that have seen more than three centuries of winter. The town has kept that historic soul while also becoming artistic liberal and youthful. This is partly because of the State University of New York at New Paltz which brings music art theatre bookshops cafes and a constant stream of students on bicycles.
Main Street is a delight to walk. There are independent bookshops where you can spend an hour without anyone hurrying you, coffee shops that roast their own beans, bakeries selling apple cider doughnuts and fresh bread, farm stands piled high with sweet corn berries peaches and local honey, and restaurants offering wood fired pizza vegan bowls and classic American diners. On weekends there is a farmers market where local farmers sell cheese and flowers. The Shawangunk Mountains called the Gunks by locals rise behind town as a long white cliff that is famous across the world for rock climbing. In autumn the foliage turns to a blaze of orange red and gold that draws visitors from across the state. In summer the air smells of cut grass earth and pine and people greet each other on the street. It is the kind of town where you can breathe deeply and feel at ease.
Our own trip to Tillson Lake near New Paltz will always remain like a warm blanket in memory quiet simple and full of family. My son wanted us to get away from the noise of the city for a weekend and spend proper time together. Life in Jersey City is busy and full but it is noisy and time as a complete family is rare. He booked a cosy Airbnb only a few minutes drive from Tillson Lake. The house had everything we needed a well equipped kitchen a comfortable living room three bedrooms with soft beds and a backyard where children could run barefoot without fear. The best part was that it felt like a home not a hotel. We could cook together eat together talk late into the evening and not worry about time. The host had left a clear note and a jar of fresh coffee and that small kindness made us feel welcome at once.
We reached New Paltz on a Friday afternoon. The drive from Jersey City takes about two hours and it is a journey that lifts the spirit. As we left the highway behind buildings thinned traffic eased and trees thickened. By the time we entered town we had moved into a different world.
Our two granddaughters aged eight and four were the heart of the weekend. They brought energy that made everything brighter. Their laughter filled the house their questions never ended and they kept everyone smiling from morning till night.
Saturday morning was for Tillson Lake about fifteen minutes from our cottage. The road is lined with tall trees that meet overhead and every turn opens to a glimpse of hills or a small stream. The lake was calm that day like glass surrounded by forest and hills with a few kayaks moving slowly and a couple of anglers casting from the bank. We went in for a swim. The water was brisk at first enough to make you gasp but once the girls went in there was no stopping them. The eight year old was brave kicking strongly and trying to swim further each time full of pride when we cheered. The four year old stayed close holding our hands splashing and laughing. We stayed in for nearly an hour till our lips turned blue then wrapped ourselves in large towels and sat on the bank to eat.
For lunch we did not return to the cottage. We ate at a good Mexican restaurant in New Paltz town chosen by my son and his wife. The place was lively with warm lights cheerful music and walls painted in bright colours. The girls loved soft tortillas and mild quesadillas made just for them. We ordered fajitas tacos guacamole and fresh lime soda and it felt lovely to be waited on after a morning outdoors.
After lunch we joined the July Fourth celebrations in town. In New Paltz Independence Day is always held outdoors with great affection. There is music on a temporary stage a small parade with school bands and veterans the singing of the national anthem with hands on hearts rows of food stalls and in the evening the grand fireworks that everyone awaits. Families spread blankets on the grass children wave small flags and the whole town gathers as one. The afternoon started bright and lively. Singers were performing on stage the band was playing participants in colourful costumes were marching and viewers were clapping and cheering.
Then without warning the sky darkened. A tornado warning was issued on phones and a ferocious rainstorm swept through the town. I have seen heavy rain before but I have never seen a storm that swept everything away in minutes as that one did. The rainstorm swept everything. It swept stalls singers participants and viewers. The wind came like a wall. It uprooted stalls sent tents flying like paper knocked over tables scattered plates cups flags and food across the field and turned the neat celebration into chaos. Food stalls collapsed their awnings torn. Singers on stage clutched microphones as speakers swayed and lights swung wildly. Participants in the parade held onto each other as costumes blew about. Viewers ran with children in arms pushing prams carrying cool boxes trying to save what they could. Within moments everyone was drenched. The ground became mud the stage floor became a pool instruments sat in puddles and the sound system crackled and went silent. Water was everywhere pouring from the sky running down the street collecting in sheets over the park and flooding paths.
We rushed with the crowd to a makeshift shelter under a large community tent that was itself shaking in the wind. Even there water found us dripping through canvas and flowing under feet. Our two granddaughters cried in panic and shivered completely soaked to the bone their little dresses clinging to them. We held them close wrapped them as best we could in our own wet shirts and tried to keep them calm. Around us strangers shared umbrellas offered towels and helped elderly people to benches. It was frightening yet moving to see how quickly people looked after one another. As soon as the wind eased we made our way to the car park stepping over fallen branches dodging small trees that had come down and wading through paths turned to streams. The car park was full of puddles and abandoned buggies. We bundled the girls into the car turned the heater on full and drove slowly back to our Airbnb past stalls lying sideways and lights swinging. The fireworks were surely postponed. It was not the Independence Day we had planned but it was one we will never forget.
Sunday was slower and gentle as if nature wished to apologise. We made a big breakfast with eggs toast and berries from a farm stand and sat long over coffee. Then we packed and drove back to Jersey City as a soccer match in the New Jersey stadium was a big temptation for my son. The car was full of wet towels that smelled of lake water snack wrappers and happy chatter about favourite Mexican dishes. No one looked at phones.
What made the trip special was not just Tillson Lake itself though it was stunning. It was being together with no rush.
(Avtar Mota)
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