Not sure why there aren't more reviews regarding High Point, but it's a time when I really, really…read morewish I could post photographs (although there are some provided on the main page that give an approximation of the beauty of the place). My coming here yesterday was completely unexpected. I grew up in Wayne, down Rt. 23 (which is supposedly now known as "the heroin highway"), and I've had some exposure to this upstate region over the decades (I can just barely remember my father bringing me to Stokes State Forest as a kid; I went camping at "Camp Silver Lake" with "Indian Guides" when I wasn't much older--- I think the camp/lake was at Hardyston; and I went with family once to the spot near Port Jervis where NJ/NY/PA meet).
I met up with an old friend, and we stopped at the Sound Exchange on Rt. 23 in Wayne. Spent money on CD's (Moby Grape for me; Johnny Thunders for him), and then asked each other, "What next? What do we do now?" I remembered that driving north on Rt. 23, once you get past the seemingly endless mini malls and the burgeoning congestion...usually up past Butler and Kinnelon...the scenery becomes quite extraordinary (I've been told the area resembles Scotland in parts) and...for me, at least...therapeutic. If I ever feel close to whatever God(s) might exist, it's invariably when I'm out enjoying the loveliness and grandeur of nature. It was brutally hot, though, and I was ready to pack it in at some point near Sussex (which resembled a ghost town), when my friend suggested, "We're close to High Point. How about High Point?" I wasn't enthused. He mentioned that he had been there with his ex-wife (I guess there's a reason we're hanging out bored together at a record store buying CDs like aimless adolescents and then driving numb up a scenic highway...2 middle aged men...on a glorious Summer afternoon; he's got ex-wives, I've got ex-girlfriends, we've got too much time on our hands, limited money in our pockets, just above a half tank of gas in the car, not enough interests or stimulating hobbies to occupy ourselves with, no noble, altruistic activities to inspire ourselves with..etc...etc...but I'm not entirely sure what the reason(s) is(are), and why depress myself further by continuing this line of thought? Why indeed?), and she (and he) had loved it. I replied, "Ok, Ok." I figured it was easier to comply than try to formulate a reason why we shouldn't. Did I mention how enervating the heat was?
We drove up bucolic mountain roads until we reached a toll booth. My first thought was, "I'm not paying out money for this." But it was after 4pm, and there was no admission charged after 4. Again, we drove on rolling mountain roads, past people picknicking and cooking food (the smell was intoxicating). There was a beautiful lake surrounded by pine-covered mountains, with people swimming. And then we reached the area where the High Point Monument towered above.
A steady breeze was blowing, and the brutally hot day suddenly felt Fall-like, even chilly, despite the sunshine (I have to wonder if it's like that all the time? I guess it is). Off to one side was PA. Off to the other was NY. Over that way was NJ. Which one was which? I couldn't tell; I had been completely disoriented by our ride. I figured the side with the little toy village down below (Port Jervis?) was probably NY. But it didn't really matter. We were presented with a panorama of splendid, natural beauty, awe-inspiring and majestic, stretching out as far as the eye could see. (By the way, there are "Tower Viewers" available if you want to bring the scenery in closer...they charge a quarter for about a minute of magnification...but you really don't need them.) Even the man-made tower jutting up into the sky inspired awe, and I'm less moved by the constructions of man than I am by the constructions of nature. The tower (or monolith, or obelisk) was closed, so we couldn't climb our way to the top, but that was fine (especially for my friend, who, despite his initial enthusiasm, did not want to climb several flights of stairs to the top of a stone tower). Still, I'd like to come back earlier some day and make that climb and see the view from the top. I can't imagine how much more impressive it could be, but I'm motivated now. We stayed for several minutes, enjoying it. What had started out as a day of half-hearted, desultory boredom had ended extremely well. And riding back down Rt 23 with Moby Grape playing on the car's CD player was the icing on the cake. A dull day had become one that I'll remember with fondness for a long time.
I fully expect to come back here. And I recommend it to anyone with a beautiful summer day on their hands, and no idea of how to spend it. I also heartily recommend it to those who have better, more constructive ways to spend their time than I usually do. It seems like a great place to bring your family if you grow tired of the seashore (and its numbing traffic jams).
In other words, check this place out.
