Not a fishing story, but a story none-the-less…
I don't much like doing it this time of year, but I had to take a short trip out of my beloved state last weekend to attend a friends wedding in Tarrytown, NY. I was a little grumpy about it leaving town Friday morning. The night before a friend and I had found good numbers of bass in a nice little south county location. I desperately wanted to go back Friday night, but I had previous commitments and I needed to go.
The drive through Connecticut, although never fun, wasn't bad as far as that ride can go. In all actuality, I didn't even know I was going to Tarrytown. I thought I was going to Jersey. It was one of my fiancés college roommates who was getting married and she was from Jersey, so I just assumed. I got in the car and drove. I found out we weren't crossing over the Hudson about halfway there and that made me a little happier.
When we arrived in Tarrytown it was too early to check into the hotel so we decided to drive around a bit. We headed north just a few miles and to my surprise it led us to a little town called Sleepy Hollow. We looked at each other and smiled. I got that feeling that I get whenever I go to a place with a spooky past. It's not a scary feeling, but more of a childish excitement of the unknown. I immediately got more interested in my surroundings and decided I had to find out a little more about the American folklore that loomed over this beautiful little town.
If you've never been to this part of New York you should. Especially in the summer. It's a beautiful area. The towns on the east side of the Hudson are nestled in at the bases of the valleys between the high rolling hills of the New York countryside. From high up on these hills you can see across the Hudson to the west bank which is punctuated by the dramatic cliffs of Hook Mountain. I don't know about you, but when I think of New York or New Jersey, I just think of big stinky cities, noisy backdrops and spoiled kids driving around in fancy European cars. Not some of the most beautiful country in the northeast. But guess what, that's what I found.
We drove for a little while, but couldn't give it too much of an effort since we had to be back to the hotel for the wedding rehearsal that evening. My fiancée had more to do with the bridal party the next day, so I decided I'd use that alone time to poke around town the next morning. That night though, we ended up at a restaurant called "The Striped Bass". That got a smile out of me and I expected great things. In the end I was a little disappointed because all I got was a bar that was out of Yuengling (which should be illegal in any bar west of Connecticut by the way) and I had some calamari that was so bad, it helped me understand why people from NY and NJ have to come to Rhode Island to get the real thing.
Sleepy Hollow. Without this name I don't think the stories would stick. They couldn’t have called it “The Legend of North Tarrytown”. It just wouldn’t have worked. Sleepy Hollow is one of the best names for a little town I've ever heard. This is an area that before the Revolutionary War, was colonized by the Dutch and is reflected by the town’s architecture. Most of you probably know the legend, and more likely know the story written by Irving Washington about a certain headless Hessian soldier rising from his grave and riding his horse during the night in a furious attempt to return to the aid of his fellow soldiers as the Americans attempted to hold them off at Chatterton Hill. As legend has it, this soldier lost his head to a cannonball fired by the Colonial Army during this battle. His body was, and is, buried in the Old Dutch Cemetery in Sleepy Hollow.
Since then many stories of his nightly rides through the town and along the Pocantico River have been told. I love them all, and I also love how the history of the town seems to revolve around this recurring theme. It seems a bit corny, but it really isn't over done in Sleepy Hollow. There aren't any billboards or big signs directing you to tourist attractions. You have to poke around a bit and find things as they come up and I like that. It's more of an adventure that way.
I'm no trout fisherman but I can tell you that the Pocantico River which dumps into the Hudson looks like it would be a trout fisherman's dream. It's not very big, but it is fast in parts and twists and turns through the steep valley east of the cemetery. I desperately wanted to throw one of those "Headless Horseman" flies I've seen tied into the river delta at the Hudson just to say I did. But I didn't have my gear this weekend.
This is the river that it is said Ichabod Crane had his run-in with the Hessian. After a disappointing night of attempting to court the woman of his dreams at a rich local farmer's party, the horseman is said to have met Ichabod on the river during his ride home. The soldier chased him, threw his severed head at him and forever scared Ichabod out of Sleepy Hollow. I like that story best. As I stood in that quiet river valley surrounded by nothing but the sound of the water and the wind in the trees, I could only imagine the fear Ichabod felt in darkness of that night. As a surfman, I’ve spent many lonely nights in the dark as my mind wandered to places unknown. It's amazing how a man's mind can run so out of control at times that it can drive him right to the edge of crazy in the process. Hell... I almost got spooked and it was broad daylight!
The stories are endless and besides that, I was also intrigued to find out what an important role this area played during the American Revolution. It's hard to imagine that George Washington hung out in Harlem planning how he was to defeat the British and preserve the Hudson River Valley for the Americans. Look into it if you get a chance. The Battle of White Plains is filled with great stories, and not just those about crazed headless Hessian soldiers.
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