On a pleasant day in May, a couple friends and I hiked a segment of the Old Croton Aqueduct, from Croton Gorge to Sleepy Hollow. The trail in many places is obscure. Often we found ourselves wandering lost in the unpeopled but well-manicured wilderness of John Cheever Country. Or bushwhacking through unruly patches of poison ivy. Or desperately climbing over rusty chain-link fences into historic graveyards. Motivation quickly flagged. Then, toward evening, we arrived at the Bridge View Tavern in Sleepy Hollow, where a couple rounds of IPA and a little talk about the novels of J.G. Ballard restored all the motivation anybody needed—to walk down the hill to Tarrytown Station and catch the train home.