Warning: The Dangers of Pratt Rock
Is Pratt Rock safe for kids? For my city kids, who’ve already hiked plenty of beginner trails in the Catskills, this popular and “moderately challenging” Prattsville trail was really tough.
I disagree with the local tourism site that calls it “perfect for beginners.” For us, it was way too big a jump into harder hikes. Granted, the cartoon-like swarm of wasps chasing us down the mountain didn’t help! But we before we get to the stings (and the swelling, and the prescription steroids), lets talk about the creepy horse grave that greets you on your way in.
The Pratt Rock trail starts ominously with a horse grave on a steep hill.
The Pratt Rock Trail starts off looking easy enough, though you wouldn’t want to stumble off the trail and roll down this steep slope, where Route 23 runs along Schoharie Creek. Pete, my husband and the most accomplished hiker in our crew (this doesn’t say much, if you’ve ever met the rest of us), inched down to get a better look at the gravestone. It marks a mass burial site for all Zadock Pratt’s favorite pets, including a horse named Bob.
There’s a fork in Pratt Rock Trail near this stone, which is marked with a hemlock leaf.
Zaddock Pratt, founder of Prattsville, earned his fortune as a 19th century tannery owner and according to Catskills photographer Matthew Jarnich, this is a carving of a hemlock leaf, which “provided the tannic acid required in the leather tanning process.”
When you get to the leaf, there is a fork in the trail. The steep right-fork seemed to point toward the carvings on Pratt Rock. The trail to the left seemed less steep, so we went that way, thinking it would be an easy workaround.
At this point, Pete and Ramona are still having a lot of fun. Archer, who might be having a psychic premoniton of what’s to come, is already asking to turn back.
For a while, things seemed okay, though I could feel my son’s anxiety mounting. Usually I’m the one who wants to bail on nature stuff, but this seemed safe enough to me.
The view from Pratt Rock Trail is awe-inspiring.
Soon, the trees parted to frame a breathtaking view. It looked like a Thomas Cole painting. Holy moly. It was beautiful.
The views from Pratt Rock Trail look like Thomas Cole paintings.
If you look closely, you can see some barns and a little league baseball diamond. As we looked out upon this beautiful vista, my son whimpered that he was afraid of heights and he wished they’d install some railings. If you’ve got a kid who is afraid of heights, you might want to skip this hike. If you have a wild child who might run to the edge here, this hike is not for you, either.
Just then, a mystical-looking man with a black mohawk emerged from the forest, two long feathers tucked behind his ear. Was he a punk or a Native American? Was he a mirage? I wish he had brought us a message from the future and told us to go directly back to our car, but he didn’t speak, so on we went, to the most terrifying experience of our children’s lives.
The Pratt Rock Trail isn’t very well-marked, but we didn’t have trouble following this trodden path through the trees—until it started getting really, really steep.
Now, when I think "steep," I think about the sidewalks of San Francisco—there's a lot of uphill motion. It's tough on your thighs, but it never feels dangerous.
However, on the steep parts of the trail to Pratt Rock, you're kind of shimmying along the side of a slippery hill whilst holding the hand of an unsteady, sobbing child, as bits of dirt and rock plummet down the cliffs below.
Yo, are we having fun yet?
No, friend, the fun is yet to come! While trying to find our son a place to sit so we could both attend to our daughter’s impending breakdown, my husband, Pete, slipped his makeshift walking stick into a hole on the ground.
The hole was a wasp nest. The cloud of yellow jackets that emerged from it was something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Pete, who seemed to be pulling bees out of Archer’s curly hair, screamed that he was getting stung and sent Archer to run toward us. The swarm seemed to follow him.
Archer, a big, broad-shouldered 11-year-old, was barrelling toward us at a surprising speed. All I could think about was the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. I imagined Ramona and myself in white outfits with red scarves around our necks, prepared to outrun a beast.
Hand-in-hand, we sped over the steep parts that slowed us down before. We made it back cliffs before Archer caught up, screaming, a yellow jacket caught in his shirt, stinging his back. Pete raced down to release it and but another wasp came for me. Knowing that I have terrible reactions to insect bites, Pete slapped it hard. He hit me with a lot more force than I would’ve liked the kids to witness.
“I’m fine! Dad is protecting me!” I said, but they didn’t care or necessarily notice that he’d socked me with all his might. He’d been stung all over his ankles and legs, and his elbow was beginning to blow up. He’d taken the brunt of the attack, which probably saved the rest of us.
The kids were still running ahead, toward the car, shouting that they would never hike again.
Ramona looked over her shoulder just once to ask, “Mommy, can we have that spa day soon?”
My sister had bought Ramona some cooling eye patches for her 8th birthday, and boy oh boy, was she ready to use them.
Some say Pratt Rock is the Mount Rushmore of New York. This is as close as we got to the carvings.
We didn’t make it up to the carvings on Pratt Rock, so I took a picture of New York’s Mount Rushmore from below. Then, I went to the nearest supermarket and bought Calamine Lotion, Cortizone Cream, and Nesquik milkshakes (to lift spirits). A very kind cashier, who claimed that she grew up on a farm before these products existed, told me about making a paste of baking soda and water (or possibly mud) to lift the venom out of Archer and Pete’s wounds. (The guys refused the baking soda paste, but Pete was still covered with swollen welts a week later and ended up getting a prescription for prednisone, which worked wonders.)
After the supermarket, stop I navigated the way to Taphouse Grille in Windham, where they have beer, wine, bar snacks, and WiFi. Our server was so sweet and attentive, it was almost as though she knew what we’d been through.
Not-So-Fun Fact: Zadock Pratt had 5 wives. The first had been born 50 years before the fifth.
Anyway, if you are better hikers than us and/or if you have a beekeeping suit on hand, head on up to Pratt Rock and let us know how it goes!
Otherwise, just go up to the cliffs, check out the view, and turn back. Go small and go home!
Better yet, visit some of our favorite kid-friendly trails in the Catskills.
Pratt Rock Trailhead is located on Route 23 in Prattsville, NY.
