Jersey City on Two Wheels: Weehawken & Hamilton Park

to enjoy this panoramic view, click to enlarge

For this edition of my semi-regular photo-essay on local attractions accessible with a bicycle, I took a trip outside the Jersey City limits. Yes, I know. I understand your outrage (and the vituperative comments I will surely receive), but please hear me out. Don’t consider this a betrayal of my adopted city; the JC will forever have a special place in my heart and on this blog. But a bright Saturday morning is perfect for a ride to the cliff-top Hamilton Park in nearby Weehawken, a trip I’d like to take you on here—even if you’re unwilling to leave your doorstep, or the familiar streets of Jersey City.




The Heights at Weehawken are famous only for the men who dueled there in the early 19^th Century, particularly Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. The bluff above the river (just across from Manhattan) served as a neutral site for gentlemanly blood-letting. Americans may have eschewed monarchies and other antiquated Old World-values, but the aristocracy remained, as well as their backward sense of chivalry.

They couldn’t have chosen a more dramatic location: the quietude of early morning as they rowed across the Hudson to the wild banks of New Jersey to settle their quarrel by pistols; ascending above the riverside fog, knowing that one party would not return to Manhattan unscathed; the tension in the air as their seconds prepared weapons and brought the occasion to its climax; then, pacing away from an opponent only to turn to face him and  raise, with quivering arm, what could be the final blow to all arguments and wrongdoings—one must end him to end it all.

Apparently the ritual of dueling (illegal in both New York and New Jersey at the time) was far more complex than I had previously thought, and the event that occurred July 11, 1804 far more complicated. For more on dueling, and the Hamilton-Burr duel in particular, I suggest consulting other sources. However, simply put, the beloved Alexander Hamilton died from a gunshot wound sustained that day, presumably at the hand of the nefarious Aaron Burr, whom, though never charged, was as a result no longer welcome in the area.

The purpose of my trip was simply to visit a local historical site, and to marvel at the synthesis of the natural and man-made landscapes. While monuments designate the former, the latter can be enjoyed by merely gazing from the cliff-top park. Easy as this may be, I chose not to take the easy route to Weehawken (this I would save for the return trip), but rather the more interesting, scenic, and challenging one. After descending my stoop, I pedaled a dozen blocks north, until I reached my shortcut to Hoboken. As you may have seen with my entry about Riverview Park, the Jersey Heights neighborhood (and much of Jersey City, Union City, West New York, Guttenberg, Fort Lee, etc.) sits atop the Palisade cliffs that run the length of north Jersey parallel to the Hudson River. Below my home, downtown Jersey City and Hoboken occupy the area between the cliff and the river. This low-lying area narrows as one travels northward, eventually disappearing at Palisades State Park (featured in a post about my first driven road-trip.) But rather than stay on top of the cliff all the way to Weehawken I chose to drop down to Hoboken—not via a descending road, but with an elevator to the nearest light rail station: 

A cool structure, huh?

A nice bit of engineering, and a convenient link between these cities. 

 
From the station I rode north out of Hoboken, then east to the river front, where developments and restaurants cling to the river bank and charge exorbitant amounts of money for the view.

Check it out, Maggie: a green roof!

 
At the water’s edge, I spotted a luxurious home perched on the promontory like medieval castle across the river from the cruise ships and USS Intrepid docked on Manhattan’s west side.

Pedaling on, I found myself below my objective. Earlier reconnoitering alerted me to direct route to the top of the cliffs:  

 
However, the gate to the towering stairway was locked up (and thankfully so, since dragging my bike up would have been both asphyxiating and asinine.) Rather, I took a right and ascended a road that would have received no class designation on a cycling race route (well, maybe if it was a dozen miles long at that gradient), but had me working hard out of the saddle. (That I am out of shape and not the best at dealing with uphill terrain, gears, and all that sort of stuff will not be mentioned here.) It was a harrowing minute or two, but I made it to the “summit.” Weehawken greeted me with level ground, a Mexican restaurant, and a breath-taking view where I paused to catch my breath.

I pedaled south along the cliff’s edge, first reaching the town’s veterans’ memorials:

the New Jersey state flag flies proudly in defiance of the Empire State’s grandeur

Farther on, I came to Hamilton Park proper, where I found (besides a much-needed water fountain) locals relaxing in the shade, sunning, or taking in the view. And now you too, virtually, can enjoy that scenic vista:

I also happened upon this unlocked graffiti-tagged tunnel, which led nowhere in particular.

Tim dubbed this “Aaron Burr’s sexy grotto”

 
Farther south of the park, in an inordinately manicured neighborhood of river-facing homes, stands the monument to the Hamilton-Burr duel:

Egad! An historical plaque!

Another?!

Alexander Hamilton, the devilishly-handsome victim

Aaron Burr, the devilishly-wicked pariah

Only Alexander Hamilton received a commemorative bust. Burr’s would surely have been desecrated and/or thrown from the cliff by latter-day Federalists.

 
The midday heat harried me home, and though I would have like to have dived in this pool,

I found the view of my cities refreshing enough.