The northern portion of the Hudson River valley in Upstate New York, generally that region extending from the first town below the headwaters of the Hudson River at North River to the last substantive waterfall preventing the passage of vessels at Fort Edward. Downstream from Fort Edward, northbound boat traffic exits the Hudson River onto the Champlain Canal.
The largest population center in the Upper Hudson River Valley is that of Glens Falls. Other towns include North Creek, Hadley, Lake Luzerne, Corinth, and Hudson Falls. The region is characterized by a series of small glens and valleys surrounded by the Adirondack Mountains on all sides. At Corinth the river deepens and widens as it approaches the "big bend" where Interstate 87 crosses near Glens Falls.
Famous quotes containing the words upper, hudson, river and/or valley:
“When my old wife lived, upon
This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
Both dame and servant, welcomed all, served all,
Would sing her song and dance her turn, now here
At upper end o’the table, now i’the middle,
On his shoulder, and his, her face afire
With labor, and the thing she took to quench it
She would to each one sip.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
“He hung out of the window a long while looking up and down the street. The world’s second metropolis. In the brick houses and the dingy lamplight and the voices of a group of boys kidding and quarreling on the steps of a house opposite, in the regular firm tread of a policeman, he felt a marching like soldiers, like a sidewheeler going up the Hudson under the Palisades, like an election parade, through long streets towards something tall white full of colonnades and stately. Metropolis.”
—John Dos Passos (1896–1970)
“A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself—for it is from the soil, both from its depth and from its surface, that a river has its beginning.”
—Laura Gilpin (1891–1979)
“Ah! I have penetrated to those meadows on the morning of many a first spring day, jumping from hummock to hummock, from willow root to willow root, when the wild river valley and the woods were bathed in so pure and bright a light as would have waked the dead, if they had been slumbering in their graves, as some suppose. There needs no stronger proof of immortality. All things must live in such a light. O Death, where was thy sting? O Grave, where was thy victory, then?”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)