Another aspect of the gradual 1/2 mile inclined path to the central ring of the prehistoric Dun Aonghasa ruins of County Galway, Ireland.
The view north, northwest from this way to Dun Aonghasa (Dun Aengus). In early June, looking across wildflowers, karst landscape, walled fields, farms, the North Atlantic Ocean, coast of Connemara and the 12 Bens (12 Pins) mountains.
Note the doorway (with long lintel) in the surrounding wall, to left of center in middle distance.
Multiple trails lead from where Quaker Bridge crosses the Mullica River. These are from a handheld Canon 5d Mark IV with the Canon EF 70 – 300 mm f/4.0-5.6 ISM lens.
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70 mm, ISO 200 , 1/60 sec at f / 4.0
lll
70 mm, ISO 200 , 1/80 sec at f / 4.0
Copyright 2021 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Multiple trails lead from where Quaker Bridge crosses the Mullica River. These are from a handheld Canon 5d Mark IV with the Canon EF 70 – 300 mm f/4.0-5.6 ISM lens.
Click pic for larger view in a new browser tab. If you are in WordPress Reader, open the post to use this feature.
70 mm, ISO 200 , 1/80 sec at f / 4.5
lll
70 mm, ISO 200 , 1/80 sec at f / 4.5
Copyright 2021 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
An 84-degree October walk up Cascadilla Gorge—quiet paths, bluestone porches, fresh paint on the bridge—waiting for the footbridge to catch the last, warm evening sunlight.
Every fall I make a point of walking Cascadilla Gorge at least once. On an 84-degree October 9 afternoon, Pam was tied up with chores, so I parked downtown and stopped to see the grandchildren. They were with their mom. Two were “too tired” after school to do anything. The youngest, at the age of four, was not yet in school and he floated the idea of the skateboard park; for me, that wasn’t in the cards. So I set off on foot up Court Street, past the residence of Buddhist monks at the gorge entrance.
Cascadilla Gorge is part of Cornell Botanic Gardens (formerly the Plantations), the university unit that stewards natural areas and gardens across campus. Foot traffic was light. A sign explained why: the lower trail was closed at Stewart Avenue, where the bridge spans the ravine. I crossed to the north side by the Christian Science church and wound up Cascadilla Park Road to the rim trail that climbs East Hill toward campus.
Homes line this stretch, porches facing the gorge where the constant music of creek and falls carries up. Not feeling ambitious, I made a few phone snapshots. Here the path squeezes past a porch built of local “bluestone,” a feldspathic sandstone native to the region—around town it’s sometimes called “Llenroc,” Cornell in reverse.
That pot you see in the previous photo gets a closer look here, with more of the same weathered bluestone.
The drop to the gorge floor is steep, sheer in places. The barrier fence looks stout in some sections and thins to almost nothing in others. A few years ago, a recent Cornell graduate walking home late along this path fell to his death. I continued to the fork for the Ithaca City Cemetery, climbed to Stewart Avenue, turned right to cross the Cascadilla bridge, then right again onto the Gorge Rim Trail back toward town. At the bridge I noticed part of the closure work: fresh paint on the bridge and on the suicide-prevention netting beneath. On September 24—just fifteen days earlier—a Cornell senior had jumped; the net caught him, and the fire department brought him to safety.
From the concrete barrier in that photo you can peer into the gorge: a beautiful view, the steady voice of water rising from below. I try to leave the darker stories where they belong—at least until the sight of fresh paint pulls them back to mind.
I took the following photograph in 2005, the September before my previous post, “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” with the Kodak DSC pro slr-c, an ND filter, 50 mm lens and a tripod. It was a planned session, I work waterproof boots and was able to stand in the creek after a series of rain-free days. At this time of the year the gorge opens to the setting sun. I waited, taking a series of photographs for the perfect amount of light on the footbridge. The feature photograph (the header to this posting) is a detail from a shot with the bridge more fully lit.
The header image for this post comes from a planned session in September 2005, just before the photograph of my “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” post. I used a Kodak DCS Pro SLR/c with an ND filter, a 50 mm lens, and a tripod. After several rain-free days I wore waterproof boots and stood mid-creek. In autumn the gorge opens to the setting sun; I waited and shot a sequence until the light laid perfectly across the footbridge. The banner image is a detail from a frame where the bridge is more fully lit.
We have a framed print of that photograph at home. I mounted it as a gift to Pam on our first Valentine’s Day.
“September Sunset in Cascadilla Gorge”
If you’ve walked Cascadilla Gorge in autumn, I’d love to hear your favorite vantage points—porches along the rim, the lower stone steps, or the footbridge at golden hour. Do you know any stories about Llenroc bluestone on these houses, or remember the Stewart Avenue Bridge before its safety upgrades? Photographers: what helps you balance deep shade and bright water from the designated trails? Share a tip or a memory in the comments.
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
The previous post was an overview the Fulacht Fiadh associated with the Drombeg Stone Ring of County Cork, Republic of Ireland.
In this post, we explore the elements of these fascinating remnants from the late Bronze Age, over 3,000 years ago.
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rock- lined pit
It is amazing the rock wall survived human need for the valuable wall stones. Portions were stolen, though for the most part we can see enough to understand.
rock- lined pit and hearthView of entrance to the south from above the spring, visible is the rock lines cooking pit filled with ground water.
Notice the groupings of visitors in the middle distance of Pam’s photograph, gathered around remains of late Bronze age elements.
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There is a sign to explain…
Trach atá sa bhfulacht fiadh le brutháil teallach agus tobair lena ais agus atá dúnta ag falla cloiche íseal le hiontráil soir. Líonadh an traid trí clocha te a théamh ar theallach agus a n-aistriú isteach sa traid lán le huisce fuar. Léiríodh le turgnamh a rinneadh le linn na tochailte ar an áit i 1957 gur féidir 70 galún (318 lítear) d’uisce fuar a thabhairt chun boil in 18 nóiméad. Ansin bhíodh feoil ann is a cócaireacht. Maireann an t-uisce seo te ar feadh 3 n-uaire an chloig. Cuirtear úsáidí eile sa bhfulacht fia ar aghaidh, mar shampla folcadáin, ceardaíocht amhail ruaimniú agus grúdaireacht.
In modern Ireland the word fulacht means barbeque and the archeological sites with characteristics in common, such as a water source, health and pit, are named “Fulacht fiadh,” derived from Old Irish sources. In all cases the link is to some kind of preparation activity involving heat and moisture. Found throughout Ireland, Great Britan and the Isle of Man where the sites are called burnt mounds. The Drombeg Fulacht fiadh exemplifies all characterists. There is a horseshoe shaped rock walled/banked, now a remnant, enclosure, entrance to the south. In the middle is a pit, at Drombeg lined with rock, a spring on one side, a hearth on the other. A stone saddle quern, used for grinding grain, was nearby Adjacent huts, rock walls with post holes, do not suggest a settlement, but rather a temporary use.
View of entrance to the south from above the spring, visible is the rock lines cooking pit filled with ground water.
In my last Pinelands post, “cedar water” was featured. This post is a exploration of the “cedar” in “cedar water.”
White Cedar, also known as Swamp Cedar, is a water loving tree seen here to the right of Quaker Brider, Wharton State Forest.
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“Cedar water” is the dark, tea like, flow of Pinelands rivers colored by vegetable tannins.
White Cedar thrives along Pinelands waterways, lending color to the “cedar water.” 18th Century sea captains favored cedar water for long voyages, famours for staying fresh far longer than other waters. Also known as arborvite, “tree of life”, for the medicinal properties of the bark, well known throughout Native America.
Known for flat sprays of scaley leaves
The Pinelands are under siege from attacks much worse than this defacement
These photographs were taken the last days of August 2021, the 26th and 27th, while exploring Burlington County, New Jersey, with my sister. I will be writing about our Thursday and Friday for awhile, starting with today’s installment.
Quaker Bridge Road traverses the wilderness of Wharton State Forest with a beginning off Route 206, Atsion Mansion. Our planning included Jeep Wrangler rental, only high-clearance 4-wheel vehicles are appropriate, the road surface is humpy sand, water filled holes abound. Still, sitting there at the start, with Atsion Mansion house in view, I waited awhile until a high clearance tour bus packed with adventurers, kayaks passed into the pines and out of sight. We proceeded an uneventful ~4 miles to Quaker Bridge at a stately 5 miles per hour, invoking four-wheel drive low gear a mile or so in.
Here is Quaker Bridge over Mullica River today, facing East.
Mullica River from Quaker Bridge facing downstream
Quaker Bridge road was a well traveled main route through the Pines for almost a hundred years with an inconvenient crossing of The Mullica at this point. During the year 1774, some sa 1772, West Jersey Quakers travelling to the Little Egg Harbor Yearly Meeting, started “a day early”, built a bridge. From a c.1940 photograph it is clear in that “day” they felled large trees for pilings, smaller trees, pines and cedars, for the other bridge elements. Since then, the crossing has been called “Quaker Bridge.”
Over time, the east side became a resting place, with at least one Inn/Tavern. Here is the east side today.
Even without hospitality and bustling humanity, after 4 miles of dreary road from Atsion this spot carries a sense of lightness, the well spaced straight pines over several acres conveying peace and rest. Over 35 miles from the ocean, the white sand presents as beach. There is a reason for this feeling, a 15 million year reason.
Visual presentation of Pinelands geologic origins, from New Jersey Geologic Survey, Scott Stanford author, 2005.
Between 15 and 10 million years ago the earth climate turned colder, so much water evaporated from the oceans to fall as snow and ice in the polar regions ocean levels fell 150 to 250 feet. As the ocean fell away, over eaons, mountains to the west were ground down, pulverized by the elements to flow, gather on the exposed plain. The white “beach” sand we see today, at Quaker Bridge and other Pinelands places, are surfaces of this “Cohansey” sands and clay ranging in thickness from 25 feet in the west to more than 300 feet at the Atlantic Ocean.
Over millions of years the land raised to become the drainage patterns we see today. The renewable resources of “bog iron” and water spring from this history.
Visual presentation of Pinelands geologic origins, from New Jersey Geologic Survey, Scott Stanford author, 2005.
Standing there I imagined Great Great Grandmother Ann (Milley) McCambridge resting on the journey from the McCambridge home near Speedwell. I placed the pebble, collected from Long Island Sound, on Grandmother Ann’s headstone the evening of August 26th. Click this link for more about Ann McCambridge.
Sacred to the Memory of ANN wife of James McCambridge who departed this life December 27th 1855 in the 51st year of her age.
Reference
I found Quaker Bridge background in “Heart of the Pines, ghostly voices of the Pine Barrens” by John E. Pearce, pp 748 – 750, Batsto Citizens Committee, 4110 Nesco Road, Hammonton, N.J. 08037-3814.
When Pam and I made Westwood Knoll our home in 2011, to the north, across the street, was an empty wooded lot that has since been subdivided into three of the last home sites in Ithaca. This summer, the corner lot was razed of all its trees, the lovely mature cherry, sycamore, ash, maple reduced to stumps to be cut up and carted away. There was a positive in that the lot was overgrown and unsightly, but every spring the upper reaches were masses of blooms and young green leaves.
In a heavy rain on September 5th, 2017 the two parts, call them “modules”, were delivered, and then sat until September 7th to be assembled in one day. The process itself was interesting to witness and, while being otherwise occupied, I came out now and then to document the progress.
Here are my photographs. What do you think? Please leave comments.
The foundation installation took a week to construct. It started with, literally, blocks of styrofoam held together with plastic and assembled by hand, like a child’s block set. There is an 8 inch gap in between filled with concrete. There was NO rebar used. bolts were inserted for attaching the modules.Module Two was delivered on wheels and moved into position by this semi.Module Two will eventually face the opposite direction. That will be the rear door. This is our swimming pool, I use garden hoses to siphon excess rainwater.Most of the workers were dressed like this, casually, no protection for feet or head. We were concerned with this. No one was injured this day, as far as we know.The worker is standing on a board on which the crane wheels will rest.Crane Boom End with hooks in transport configuration. These are attached to the modules for positioning over and lowering onto the foundation.This fellow arrived to take pictures from that smart phone.A versatile tracked loader used throughout the foundation construction and module installation.A worker prepares the hooks for use. No head protection was a concern to us.Yellow blocks of metal used to support the crane.. A railing of Module One is above the truck, to left.The red hook is ready.The hooks hang free, ready to use.This is where Module One was dumped on the side of the road on September 5th, two days before installation.We are looking here over the edge of our patio and landscaped yard to the site of module one, pre-installation, a worker approaching.The first step was to extricate module two from the mud and haul it up the street. A construction worker foreground, the boom of crane beyond.The semi backed Module Two into position, the crane boom and hooks loom.The workers were considerate of our lawn. There was minimal damage. The modules installed this day looks nothing like this image.From here Module Two will be lifted onto the foundation.Workers prepare foundation to receive Module Two while the unit is readied.I see only the black hook is in use.Another View of Module Two with worker. That is the bottom of our driveway.Module One was delivered with construction materials inside.The porch and entry door of Module One with worker and rope. The worker needs to negotiate the carrier.A 180 degree turn orients Module One to Module Two. The porch overhangs the foundation.
Positioning module one over foundation.
A worker observes from the interior of Module Two. Here is a closer view of the wire harness.
Final positioning of the module to form a whole structure.
The roof panels are here lifted to a peak. The shingles and such in place for installation. These are the materials delivered inside Module One.
Update: since this post was first published September 2017 the original owners moved to the southern USA after selling the property at an inflated price to a young Cornell professor.
Copyright 2021 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 