Bronx River Forest
Sunday was seasonably warm, a pleasant day to be outside, and an ideal moment for my first visit to the site for this study. My goal was to observe the general atmosphere and behaviors of users, identify larger patterns, and, if possible, engage informally with stakeholders. I was fortunate to do just that, gathering insights that will shape my process moving forward.
The journey to the site was itself unusual. I set out on foot from my apartment in Long Island City, walking to Randall’s Island, the only pedestrian route between Queens and the Bronx without passing through Manhattan. From there, I took the 5 train to Gun Hill Road and entered Bronx River Park from the north along Bronx Boulevard. This was my first time approaching from this direction, having previously entered from the west via the D train and 205th Street station.
The park is situated in a shallow valley carved by the Bronx River. From the moment I entered, the urban environment seemed to fall away, the sound of traffic gave way to birdsong and rustling leaves. Almost immediately, I encountered a ruined park structure, perhaps once a seating area or stage, now littered with trash and empty alcohol containers. Its condition suggested it was still in use, likely at night when activity is less visible from the street. Nearby, beneath a tree, I saw a blanket positioned toward the river, abandoned, perhaps by someone who had used it for sleeping.
As I continued along the embankment, I passed under the Bronx River Parkway, where I noticed a man smoking cannabis. He acknowledged me, though it was unclear whether he was cruising or simply there to smoke. The underpass floor was coated with a thick layer of fresh mud, likely deposited by a recent flood. Footprints and bike tracks patterned the surface, evidence that despite its emptiness at the time, the space is frequently used.
South of the underpass, the park opened dramatically. To my right stretched the river; to my left, a steep embankment carried the six-lane Parkway above. Across the water ran the Metro-North tracks. These barriers, combined with the low-lying terrain, isolate the valley from its surroundings, creating a sense of seclusion that makes the site well-suited for cruising.
The park narrows to a triangular point at the north, where I entered, and widens as one moves southward. Here I began to notice men slipping into the woods. With the trees still bare in late winter, their movements were visible. Across the river, on a wider bank I recognized from earlier visits, several men lingered and looked toward me, signaling its use as a cruising area.
By 3 p.m. I reached a pedestrian bridge over the river. Three teenagers on bikes passed in the opposite direction, while several men sat on the bridge’s benches, scanning those who crossed. Their body language suggested they were there to meet others, familiar with one another through casual conversation. Crossing the bridge brought me into the “Bronx River Forest,” an area I had visited before and knew to be active. Paths wound through an overgrown former baseball field, now filled with low brush and tall trees. Within this main area I counted 12–15 men.
Closer to the Metro-North embankment, I came upon a makeshift shelter woven from branches, with informal seating inside and litter scattered across the ground, condom wrappers, beer cans, food packaging. As I reached for my phone to document it, another man noticed me, and I decided against taking a photograph.
Further on, I encountered a striking scene: three men engaged in sex under a tree, fully visible to anyone walking nearby. Four others sat casually on a fallen log, drinking beer and watching, their demeanor relaxed and unbothered, as if spectators at a neighborhood game. This nonchalance around public sex is something I’ve observed across cruising sites, though it was unusual to see it occur in broad daylight. Only a few yards away, separated by shrubs, joggers, cyclists, and dog walkers passed by, seemingly unaware of what was happening within the thicket.