Little Island

All the talk this past weekend in the local New York City press was about Little Island, a just-opened public park off Hudson River Park on the west side of Manhattan. It's the brainchild and wallet spawn of media mogul Barry Diller, who worked with the Hudson River Park Trust and an assortment of arts honchos to envision, design, and actually build a totally original park over the Sandy-damaged Pier 54.

It certainly succeeds in fulfilling the vision described on its website of a "captivating landscape" and "an immersive experience with nature and art."

On that website you'll also find the phrase "an oasis from urban life." The word "oasis" did not come to mind as I steered myself among the crowds streaming through the park at 8:30 on the morning of its debut Sunday, when I took most of these photos. Judging from the variety of languages in the air, it's likely to become as much of a tourist attraction as the nearby High Line.

Little Island arose at a historic point on the riverside. This is where the Cunard Line's ocean liners docked in the early 20th century. The Titanic would have put in here, had it completed its maiden voyage. And here is where the Carpathia docked with the survivors. As you enter Little Island via its South Bridge, you can first experience Cunard's big iron gate, a bit of history that's been preserved.

Contrast enhanced for easier viewing of the words "Cunard Line"
The Cunard gate from the other side and the start of the South Bridge

The artificial "island" is built on concrete piles topped with "tulip pot" modules. Together they look like a nest of giant mushrooms of undulating heights. No two "pots" are exactly alike.

Walking under the towering mushrooms at the South Bridge entrance I got a little Jurassic Park shiver. It feels like the entrance to a scary-magical Alice-in-Wonderland amusement park.

People were taking advantage of the lawn – and lining up at the snack booth on the ugly concrete area known as the Playground, even though it wasn't even nine in the morning.

But around and along the ups and downs, spring flowers were in colorful bloom.

I like the slightly whimsical driftwood-like benches.

Oversized "steps" remind me of the climb up the highest hill on Governor's Island.

You can take steps or ramps up to the high points and get a good look up and down the great estuary we call the Hudson River. The topmost lookout was crowded with sightseers.

Want to make a small area seem bigger? A twisting, turning path is your friend.

The amphitheater hosts performances from groups such as the American Ballet Theater.

It may prove that, as with the High Line, the best time for a local to visit Little Island and avoid crowds is on a weekday morning. But if you're a visitor to NYC and want to experience one if its newest and most original outdoor features, any time is good. You could hit Little Island, the High Line, and Chelsea Market all in the same day. (At present, you must reserve a timed ticket to visit during afternoon hours.)

While you're enjoying the space and the views, take a few moments to appreciate the design and engineering, too.

Barry Diller surveys his work from the inside

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Graniteville Swamp Park, Staten Island

After viewing the well-kept war memorial at Joseph Manna Park in the Mariner's Harbor section of Staten Island. we crossed Forest Avenue to peer into an inaccessible protected marsh called Graniteville Swamp Park, part of the 45-acre Graniteville Swamp area. Protected by the Harbor Herons Wildlife Refuge – a mysterious entity that covers Prall's Island, Shooter's Island, and some other spaces around the Arthur Kill – the park is, per the Parks Department, "a wonderful place to observe the natural world in a protected and undisturbed state."

Here's what we observed:

Maybe for something to be truly protected and undisturbed, it needs to be truly inaccessible.

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Joseph Manna Park, Staten Island

Joseph Manna Park is a war memorial inside a small curvy triangle less than an acre in size, by the Staten Island Expressway and near the Old Place Creek tidal wetlands at the island's northwest shore. It's named for Seaman First Class Radioman Joseph Manna (1924-1942), an immigrant from the Naples area who died on the Navy destroyer USS Duncan during the Battle of Cape Esperance near Guadalcanal. He grew up in this neighborhood, which is appropriately named Mariner's Harbor.

The little park is well maintained, as a war memorial should be.

Also honored here are two other Navy men, Frank Busso (1921-1942), who died at the Battle of Midway, and Constantine Busso (1919-1945), killed during an attack on the USS Ticonderoga. Their memorials are marked by anchors.

Plaques elsewhere in the park honor other Staten Island war dead and "the men and women of the Port of New York and New Jersey who served during World War II." (Thanks to the Parks Department website for this information.)

The park is also home to one heckuva handsome tree. (At least I think it's in this park – it was a heckuva long day, too.)

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Old Place Creek, Staten Island

With hundreds of miles of coastline, New York City has plenty of water-fronting parks. But how many of those can you visit only by boat? We found one this summer. To reach Old Place Creek – really the 70-acre Old Place Creek Tidal Wetlands Area – you have to drive to the northwest corner of Staten Island, find your way to the south-going lane of Gulf Avenue, dawdle past the National Grid headquarters, and then find a tiny dirt parking lot.

A short path leads to a small viewing platform where you can look out over the creek that winds through the wetlands.

Before we reached the platform we startled a huge stag that bounded across the path and disappeared into the impenetrable woods – the first and only time I've ever seen a male deer in NYC. Sadly, it was much too fast to get a photo.

Anyway, unless you have a boat, this is all there is to see here. Had you a kayak or canoe, you'd drag it to the rough launch and explore the wetlands. According to the map, you could follow the creek, twist your way for two miles, and end up in Arthur Kill, the narrow strait that separates Staten Island from New Jersey, looking up at the Goethals Bridge.

We don't have a boat.

Not to worry, though. This was only the first stop on a daylong Staten Island excursion. More posts will follow.

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Hunter's Point South Park and Gantry Plaza State Park

Our three-borough NYC Ferry tour began with a sail from Manhattan to the new Naval Cemetery Landscape in Brooklyn. It continued in Queens at another new park, Hunter's Point South Park, which was, the Parks Department website notes, "until recently an abandoned post-industrial area in Long Island City."

Until, that is, the advent of the NYC Ferry. If that wonderful, rampantly money-losing service survives the COVID-19 financial crisis—and, in the slightly longer term, the sea level rise that's on track to submerge the city's coastline—it will stand, or rather float, as Mayor Bill de Blasio's signature legacy. And the 10 newly constructed acres of Hunter's Point South Park are more than anything else a part of the ferry infrastructure.

Luckily for hungry city explorers, there's food here: a pandemic-thinned takeout menu from LIC Landing.

It was a quiet day on the turf.

Apparently someone had been wishing for winter.

But the kids here today were perfectly happy with water in its unfrozen form. Even Mrs. Odyssey took a spin through the spray.

The dogs were having a grand time too.

The landscaping reclined in summer bloom.

And the East River lay reasonably calm.

So Hunter's Point South Park proves to be mostly a place for activities, not relaxation. It's contiguous with Gantry Plaza State Park, which now has its own ferry landing just to the north.

It shocked me a bit to discover that my previous visit to Gantry was a full decade ago, when this blog was a mere stripling. Like the blog, Gantry Plaza has developed apace. It still hugs a narrow strip of waterfront. But there's more length to walk. The gantries remain, testaments to the area's industrial past. But the vegetation feels wilder. A spectacular row of food trucks abuts the northern part of the park. Most notably, the Pepsi sign, once slated for oblivion, has not only been preserved, but has evolved into a sculpture-like picnic spot.

Walk past the park's northern tip and cut east along Eleventh Street Basin, and you'll spot a relic of ferries past. The old Prudence Ferry operated in Rhode Island into the late 1990s and, it's said, will still crank up if you ask it nicely. It resides now in front of the old Plaxall warehouse complex. Plaxall bought the boat intending to turn it into a floating beer garden, while the warehouses were slated to be demolished to make room for the canceled Amazon headquarters. None of that happened, and the basin is a quiet, untended place on a beautiful summer weekend, quite the contrast to the bustle of the parks just below.

All photos © Jon Sobel, Critical Lens Media