On a scorchingly hot July day, Solstice sets out early to do some exploring uptown. Here she is on the High Bridge, NYC’s oldest standing bridge, built in the mid-19th century (predating the Brooklyn Bridge by some 30 years). The High Bridge links the Washington Heights neighborhood in Manhattan to Highbridge in the Bronx.

To get to the High Bridge from the Manhattan side, you have to go down quite a few stairs. Washington Heights is named Heights for a reason.

At the entrance to the High Bridge sits an enigmatic slab of local schist, no plaque or identification, as if you should just know what it’s doing there. As a super-witty Columbia historic preservation professor allegedly quipped: “The Bronx is gneiss, but Manhattan is full of schist.”

The High Bridge was constructed in 1848 as part of the Croton Aqueduct system, to carry water from the Croton River down to Manhattan. The walkway was opened in 1864 and became a popular promenade spot for NYCers seeking a cooling breeze and spectacular views of the Harlem River.

It seems the construction of the Major Deegan in 1956 and the Harlem River Drive in 1964 led to the bridge’s—and the park’s—and the whole waterfront area’s—disuse, pollution, and decline. The walkway was closed in the 1970s for reasons that remain somewhat unclear, although the common theory seems to be that it was because people were throwing stuff off the bridge onto the Circle Line boats below.

The High Bridge reopened in 2015. With lots of fencing.

From the walkway, Solstice can watch the multi-tiered vehicular frenzy that is NYC on the move.

On days like this, when the real-feel soars into the triple digits, Solstice thinks about water quite a bit. The walk across the bridge is relentlessly sunny, so when she reaches the Bronx side, she welcomes a little sprinkle.

Heading back to Manhattan, the view of the water tower is architecturally and symmetrically satisfying.

As long as she’s in the area, with history on her mind, Solstice wanders down to the Morris-Jumel Mansion, which is currently closed due to burst pipes. Speaking of water.

The Morris-Jumel Mansion, built in 1765, is the oldest house in Manhattan, and served briefly as George Washington’s headquarters in the fall of 1776.

The Mansion was situated on the Morris estate, a highly strategic location, commanding as it did (and does) clear views of Manhattan and both the Hudson and Harlem rivers.

The most important historical fact about the Mansion as far as Solstice is concerned:  Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote part of “Hamilton” here.

Solstice strolls down Sylvan Terrace for a little cobblestone experience.

Not far away is the Dinosaur Elm. Not to go too heavy on the “oldest” theme here, but the Dinosaur Elm is the oldest elm in NYC, and one of the oldest trees. Some say George Washington sat under its shade to watch the Battle of Fort Washington unfold (to his dismay). Others say George Washington took cover under the tree as Manhattan burned during the Great Fire of 1776. In any event, it seems fair to say that George and this tree shared some difficult times.

Today, no fire, no battle, but Solstice is grateful for its 300-year-old shade.

Solstice is made from fabric that was my second foray into the world of fabric-staining. This time, I used a worn-out bedsheet and coffee. She still looks like she badly needs sunscreen. Her short-alls are made from old short-alls of mine, that I used to wear when I had small children and dressed like a toddler myself. Her tube top is an old sock, and her shoes come from fabric from the swap table. I crocheted her bag, unevenly.

Solstice had the pleasure of sharing this expedition with the mother-daughter team behind @WalkManhattan. Katherine and Ella are in the midst of covering every block in Manhattan: follow them on insta!

I spend hours in the garden
I walk alone to the store
And it’s quiet uptown

—from “It’s Quiet Uptown,” by Lin-Manuel Miranda