The gravel paths of Shirley Chisolm park snake around a big mound of a former landfill. It sounds less than glamorous I admit. The park was designed around the Fountain Ave and Pennsylvania Avenue Landfills.  It juts out into Jamaica Bay and from its highest point you can spin around in a full 360 degrees to bear witness to the Manhattan Skyline, the Atlantic Ocean, JFK airport and Coney Island. You stand on a hill of common reed moving rhythmically to the strong winds off the water. The park has two sections connected by the Jamaica Bay Greenway. Hendrix creek divides each section of the park. If you arrive by car, you can park in either section. The Fountain Avenue parking lot was empty. This was my first time cycling on a trail with my new full suspension mountain bike. There were no other cyclists on the gravel paths that afternoon. The gray day seemed fitting for such a winter cycling occupation. I stopped to stare off in a northeasterly direction at Spring Creek Park where several bodies have been discovered in the last 20 years. The shallow marshes across the way look pretty enough; a place where nature commingles with horror. The thing about New York City though is that if you expand your temporal net long and wide enough, you will snag some kind of sinister doing, some death or wrong doing committed in another era with malice and egregious intent.  

I know this all sounds less inviting and you may think twice about venturing out to Shirley Chisholm State Park. Perhaps that was my intention though. In its remote and barren landscape filled with cold wind and humdrum plant life. A murder of crows descended on park bench like a scene out from Bodega Bay. And nearby, half-forgotten histories of mayhem. Perhaps I am just dousing the place with an air of caution so you will stay away and leave all of that wondrous park land for me.