AS THE GARDEN BRIDGE IS SHELVED, HERE’S HOW NEW YORK CREATED THE HIGH LINE
Repurposed tracks a masterpiece of urban landscaping
Ilived in New York for a while. Not long, but enough time for a hot, late summer expand into a snowy early winter. That was in 2010, and the High Line was one of the first places I visited, taken by new friends who had been in town longer than me. The southernmost part of the repurposed railway tracks had opened as an elevated urban park just over a year before, and the High Line had yet to make its name as a must-see attraction by discerning tourists to the Big Apple.
The past seven years have seen two further developments of the park — internationally regarded as a masterpiece of urban landscaping — and there’s a third, and final, one underway at the moment. It’s due to open later this year. In short, the High Line has changed massively since I visited it last, and it’s easy to see why — especially in a week when London’s much maligned Garden Bridge was finally shelved — it’s upheld as an example of city greening done right.
It’s not been landscaped by a construction company to justify planning permission, but built on top of something already there that was previously unwanted
My memories of that time are largely of heat alleviated by the breeze that came straight off the Hudson River, and grasses. The planting was loose and open, like it is now, and evoked a meadow growing in the middle of the Meatpackfundraising, ing District. But it was still nascent enough to be overshone by views of the Statue of Liberty cresting the horizon beyond, and frequented mostly by joggers.
I caught a few moments of peace in the 26th Street Viewing Spur (which opened in 2011), one of the handful of wooden platforms that allow visitors bird’s-eye views of lower Manhattan’s most imposing cityscapes. It sits in the High Line’s most lush section, full of trees underplanted with ferns and other woodland greenery. An elevated walkway allows visitors to stroll along the leaves, rather than under them.
This makes way for wildflowers and grasses, which are now established. There are reams of dusky pink echinacea in different stages of wilt. Sedums, aster and heucheras mingle in swathes to create that elusive thing in a city: a natural ecosystem. Birds and butterflies abound. And, while the hum of the traffic is rarely far from earshot, it is impossible to hurry after catching the sight of bees collecting nectar. In the heat of mid-August, it smells better up here than on the streets, too.
The High Line is supported by and looked after by Friends of the High Line, and volunteers, much like other community gardens. It’s not been landscaped by a construction company to justify planning permission, but built on top of something already there that was previously unwanted.
This, among other reasons, is why it is lauded. A decade after plans to rescue a neglected freight line were hatched, the High Line has become a thick green mane across the city. Foliage emerges from the black riveted iron of the disused tracks. It has grown into New York, as impermeable as graffiti.
Local friends tell me that the High Line has boosted the price of everything that surrounds it, and that’s not hard to believe, although it’s encouraging that an abundance of plants can increase the appeal of an area to such an extent.
But the more visible, and arguably more holistic, effect is the contagion of urban greening in the buildings that surround the High Line. A block away, the ground underneath a ubiquitous set of traffic lights has been filled with sunflowers, and their blooms match the passing yellow cabs. Salvia and hydrangeas emerge under trees on one nearby rooftop, while a balcony immediately next to the park’s tracks overspills with jasmine. With the neighbouring attraction luring 8 million visitors a year, you can understand the need for green privacy.
And, by 10am, the tourists had arrived. Couples, groups with tour guides, and families, all armed with cameras. They snap without stopping, keen to see their next New York sight. It’s a shame that they don’t have more time: this is one of the few places in the City That Never Sleeps that sets its own pace.