Radio towers on Pinnacle Hill
I took a walk over to Pinnacle Hill this afternoon, up the winding trails among the trees where we used to ride our dirt bikes and play Survivor Shot when we were kids. It was a beautiful day, sunny with crisp air, verging on spring, and the landscape seemed surprisingly familiar. I spent a lot of time up there as a kid, but the hill was bigger than I expected—or bigger than it looks from the outside, when you drive by it from the street. I walked up along the higher ridges, trying to get to the top, if such a thing existed. I noticed a couple of fire pits with empty beer cans strewn about, just as there always had been 20 to 25 years ago. Even as a teenager, I used to wonder who would want to sit on top of a hill in front of a fire drinking beer—now it makes perfect sense.
I stopped and talked briefly to a guy who was lying at the top of the hill (I keep wanting to call it a mountain, but it's not that big). He was just relaxing, I suppose, meditating, or smoking a little pot, and I decided I would bring Allison up there once the weather got warmer, so that we could lie together under a sunny blue sky of our own.
Then I pressed on to the radio towers, which are always visible in the distance from my parents' house. I seem to recall an adventure in high school where a group of us climbed up these towers, although they looked pretty well fenced off today, and perhaps I'm conflating my memory with the Moontower scene from Dazed and Confused. Anyway, they looked pretty impressive amidst the trees, blending together as they were, the spindly wood and metal spires ascending into the sky. I snapped a few pictures and wandered out on the other side of the hill, unsure where I would turn up. I'm still re-piecing the geography of Rochester back together in my mind—or piecing it together for the first time, as the case may be, since I don't think I really explored the city in high school as much as I might have. I was on Highland Avenue, about a 20 minute walk from the house. I cut back to the always familiar Monroe Avenue and made my way home.