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Millvale, too
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described yesterday, before a humble narrator found himself getting lost in anecdotes about those bizarre behaviors which the humans display as they’re operating vehicles, a visit was paid to the Millvale Riverfront Park trail, along the Allegheny River. I had a pretty basic camera kit with me, and my goal (beyond getting some exercise) for the day involved scouting out shots which I’d return to during future outings when the scenery isn’t quite as devastated by winter as it currently is.
Y’know, when it’s like… nice out.
By basic, I mean that I had a zoom lens hanging off the front of the camera, and there were a couple of bright prime lenses in my camera bag (just in case) but I had left most of my gear back at HQ. I only ended up using the zoom.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
These circumstances here are promising, I think, and especially so when I return with a tripod and filters and work towards capturing some ‘razzmatazz’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m digging the composition on these, but it’ll be a much nicer scene when there are leaves on the trees and the lighting isn’t quite so overcast. I think this will be a ‘morning thing.’
It was a dark afternoon on this visit, however, with a solid ceiling of clouds, and there was meant to be a raining ‘cats and dogs’ event later on that evening.
Millvale, as in the community itself, is entirely unfamiliar to me. First time visiting, and as I was in a waterfront park/trail area it’s not like I interacted with anyone other than the two bicycle assholes mentioned yesterday, or visited any other local institutions, so I cannot say much about the place beyond that there’s a waterfront public park here.
That’s actually good enough for now, but I do wonder what’s just up the hill from here, where the humans infest. Will have to come back sometime in the future and find out.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
These tracks seem to have once connected to Herr’s Island, which housed stockyards of ruminants which destined for the abattoir, and eventually the shop windows of local Butchers – ‘back in the day.’ The tracks spur off of a right of way which – in modernity – is trafficked by the Norfolk Southern RR peeps.
Back tomorrow, with a few odds and ends.
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Millvale scuttle
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One piloted the Mobile Oppression Platform over to the community of Millvale recently, to check out a ‘river walk’ trail that I’ve had pegged on my Google maps inventory for a while now. This spot is on the north coast of the Allegheny River and just east of Pittsburgh proper. Active rail moves through here, and there’s also plenty of ruined rail infrastructure to inspect as well.
Funny thing is, this was a particularly annoying afternoon for me but that had little to do with the two or three miles of photowalking which I came here to experience. In general, but specifically on this afternoon, the human infestation just sucks the joy out of everything.
People, amirite?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This trail is a part of the Three Rivers Heritage Trail, a combined bike and pedestrian dealie which snakes all around the Pittsburgh Metro area.
There’s a parking lot, which is where I left the car while walking around – as you’d imagine. When it was time for me to leave, I get into the car and pull out of the spot. Where I pulled out, it’s a marked lane indicating travel in the other direction, which means I needed to cross to the other side of the lot where the intended direction is allowed to travel. Thing is, just as I pulled out of the spot and into the lane, I see these two guys on bikes riding towards me, so I immediately come to a complete stop with the intention of waiting for them to pass before I do anything else.
Now, these two guys – they were the ‘Bro Type’ of bikers. You know these sorts of testosterone monkeys – wearing Oakley mirror sunglasses, bike helmets, the biker’s stretchy shorts, and logo laden silky bicycle shirts. The bike is outfitted with multiple water bottles and gadgets. The sort who talk about riding a bicycle with the thousand mile stare of a combat veteran.
One of them (the apparent Dominar who likely self describes himself as an ‘Alpha’ or ‘Sigma’ male) rides up to my drivers side window, while I’m waiting for them to pass rather patiently – with a sneer on his face – to inform me that ‘it’s one way, asshole’ and then gestures at my rear view mirror in a manner that indicated he was planning on knocking it off the door.
Why are ‘the bicycle people’ always such complete and utter dicks?
Four wheels bad, two wheels good, that’s why. Seriously, their two road bikes probably cost as much as my car did. They were drivers too, obviously, as I saw them unloading their bikes from a rack on the back of a Subaru. I’ll bet you anything that they wouldn’t have sat there patiently waiting for me to pass if I was walking past their car.
When the guy mouthed off at me, I let him know what Brooklyn sounded like, and he seemed shocked by both the depths of my profanity and the revelation which he received about his Mother’s sexual proclivities. Specifically shocking to him was Mommy’s passion for lying down with the beasts of the field, while singing Dixie.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Closer to home and later on in the day, I found myself merging into a turn lane in the center of the City, something which another driver some four to five car lengths behind me displayed great umbrage over.
A tiny person who was driving a gray Volkswagen, this eidelon of assholes started steady honking her horn at me while throwing up both middle fingers, and unintelligibly screaming hostilities out her car window. This series of behavioral tics were observed in my rear view mirror when she was merely two car lengths away, as traffic compressed behind a red light – which also seemed to upset her. The tirade continued for about two to three miles, until she triumphantly passed me by at a traffic light, with one last middle finger salute offered as she passed. Wow.
Road rage is a really, really weird phenomena and I just don’t understand why the angry humans act as they do. It doesn’t make sense, and why do something so high energy if it isn’t going to achieve anything at all? I mean… there’s traffic and a red light. Why would you accelerate your vehicle if you’re coming up to a complete stop?
It… doesn’t… make… sense…
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Herr’s Island soliloquy
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The atmosphere had warmed up considerably since the start of this particular walk that a humble narrator had initiated. It was quite humid, and after a long interval of inactivity, this scuttle was grinding me down physically. I followed the Three Rivers Heritage Trail along the Allegheny River and soon found myself crossing a former rail bridge onto ‘Herr’s Island.’
A former stockyard dedicated to the slaughter and dismemberment of animals for the grocery trade, this landform has been redeveloped and largely gentrified with row homes and an office park. Luckily, there’s a bar/restaurant on the island where I was able to purchase a glass of orange juice and also received a free glass of water with my purchase. I sat my stinking pre-corpse down for a few minutes, and allowed a few of the knots in my lower back to uncoil while quaffing the iced liquids. I also took advantage of their lavatory, which was clean and welcoming. I was in a full sweat, and growing increasingly sore.
A voice in the back of my head kept on saying ‘you’re too warm, you need to get out of the sun.’ A louder internal voice said ‘Soldier on.’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’d soon be walking over that bridge pictured above, which is called the 31st street bridge. It was my pre-decided ‘turnaround’ point, about four and change miles from where I had debarked the T light rail, nearby the sportsball stadiums. I had one goal to hit though, which was to see what the north eastern extant of this island looked like. On, did I scuttle.
When I was walking the riverfront trail in Millvale a few weeks back, my curiosity was stoked about this section of Herr’s Island. Turns out that there are tennis and pickleball courts on this side of the island, and an office park which houses several governmental and private entities.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There was a section where you could get down to the water, but I didn’t head down those steps. There was a young woman sunbathing down there, and I can’t imagine how creepy it would have seemed if some sweaty and limping old homunculus with a camera just appeared and started cracking out photos. The human infestation is everywhere, and I always have to worry about mobs of peasants with pitchforks.
Now, regarding the physical state that I soon found myself in…
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
Burnt ends
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few odds and ends shots from a visit to the Millvale River Walk space on the Allegheny River, just east of ‘Pittsburgh proper,’ greet you today. As described, this was a scouting scuttle, wherein I was checking the place out and seeing if there were any interesting compositions to be exploited during intervals when the weather was a bit more photogenic.
I was laughing when shooting this one. The bathroom facility was locked up, and needing to urinate, I walked down a flight of steps meant for fishermen to use and pissed into the river. What was funny about this, to me, was the yiddish expression which my grandmother would often offer – ‘Gain pishen af’n y’am’ – which is offered phonetically as I don’t know how to spell it – which translates to ‘go piss in the ocean.’
I wondered how you’d say river in yiddish during this elimination of bodily waste, which generally cracked me up for some reason.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the southern shore of the Allegheny pictured above, and I think that the area in frame is called Lawrenceville, but you really shouldn’t take my word for that as I’m still entirely reliant on my phone for navigation here in Pittsburgh. It’s an odd sensation for someone like me – who would throw down in arguments about where Williamsburg and Greenpoint ended and Bushwick began, explain to people that their house was in Astoria but their back yard was in Woodside, and knew where the geographic versus population centers of NYC were.
I love not knowing and the lack of certainty, and ignorance is great. Forces you to learn stuff, if you’re smart.
A storm that was coming in from the southwest would stick around for several days and dump close to four and a half inches of rain on Pittsburgh. The rivers rose, and all of the shoreline trails flooded. It was very exciting.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s warmed up and dried out a bit here since these shots were captured. I’ve been in three of these United States since then, although I just kind of drove into the tippity tip of West Virginia so I don’t know if that counts.
Back next week, with something different at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 