Far to the north of downtown Harlem's juke joints and supper clubs (and the occasional meandering zombie) the island of Manhattan dramatically transforms from shadowy warehouses and abandoned streets into granite cliffs and imposing trees. Other than a collection of foot paths and bike lanes, the vast majority of the park's rolling hills remain largely free of landscaping. Officially, the Parks Department says there's simply too much acreage to tackle; but unofficially, the legend of Hagnatha the Inwood Crone keeps snooping rangers at bay. Of course the fine folk of this city know to give credence to such legends, especially ones involving a centuries old witch with a taste for curious children.
