A mentor in Vermont researches sasquatch legends in the ravines of the Green Mountains.  Sasquatch did not come to mind last week when I espied this figure atop a Hudson cliff; rather I thought of ghosts or at least a Washington Irving mountainman of the sort that bedeviled my ancestor Rip van Winkle‘s head with fuddling rum.


Upriver a bend, I identified the figure:  a painter, one of a long tradition along the Hudson.  What could he possible wish to capture on his canvas?


Chesapeake and a light barge passing Storm King, and


Champion Polar of Bergen, which must surely be southbound from Henry’s Northwest Passage, and


Choptank, here cranking through Hudson Highlands and World’s End.


Maybe the artist was doing a series of peaks starting with Anthony’s Nose at Bear Mountain Bridge.


What if the proverbial “bear” for which the bridge is named was larger than a human, very hairy, and primitive?   And who was Anthony?  I’ll answer that last question later.

Photos, WVD.