
If you've visited New York in the last fifteen years, you've probably been advised to go visit a place known as "The High Line." If you haven't, let me just say I recommend it high-ly.
It's a mile-and-a-half-long, concrete-and-steel, elevated railroad spur where from the 1930s to the 1970s rail cars would be pulled from an uptown rail yard to businesses on the west side and then products, mostly meats, milk, produce, and raw and manufactured goods would be carted into the second floors of buildings processed for sale, and then sold on the first floors.
It has since become a New York City landmark.
By the late 1970s, highway trucks had replaced rail cars for transporting goods in many cities and the above-ground tracks of the High Line became obsolete, home to weeds, rust, and rodents. One a warm Saturday in 1980 while out discovering New York on my orange ten-speed, I noticed The High Line and had to check it out. I locked my bike, hopped some barbed wire without ripping my clothes, walked up a flight of stairs and voila, there I was exploring a part of New York few had ever seen. I walked its length to 34th street and turned back before the Penn Station yards. This was for sure my first lesson in trespassing. The best part?
I had my mom's Minolta and a roll of color film.

Flash forward three decades and The High Line has been repurposed by corporate grants and a grass-roots non-profit. It is now a public park that welcomes tourists and New Yorkers alike with flowers and plants, benches and overlooks, and is for me a must-see every time I visit from California, no matter the season. This summer I thought it would be a good idea to retake photographs close to my original images circa 1980. It was hard to capture them exactly due to the thoughtful landscaping, but enough similarities exist for a good comparison.
And in some cases architectural treasures remain.