by Jarad McCauley
The mantra is simple and well-meaning: don’t go into Central Park at night. Ever since tragedy befell Trisha Meili (better known as the Central Park Jogger) in 1989, tourists and residents alike occasionally treat Manhattan’s largest oasis of green with the same sensibilities that they would reserve for a relative who also happened to be a vampire: it’s pleasant enough to visit during the day, but keep your distance once the sun goes down.
But for those willing to brave its confines immediately after the sun sets, the park holds some spectacular sights. 
In particular, entering the park at dusk through the Engineers’ Gate, located at 90th Street and Fifth Avenue, allows visitors access to a stunning crepuscular vista.
The artery has earned the nickname Runners’ Gate because of the frequency with which local joggers cross its path and for the thousands of runners who course through it each November in the last leg of the New York City Marathon. It leads to a terraced monument to John Purroy Mitchel, a former mayor of New York, the façade of which conceals two ascending sets of stairs that cross back on themselves and intersect. At the top of the climb visitors will find themselves on the running path that surrounds an acknowledged gem of the city, the Central Park Reservoir. If they visit at dusk, however, they will quickly realize that the reservoir, a watery belle in a sylvan setting, saves her most magnificent finery for the night.
For ten blocks stretching north of 86th Street, the massive body of water, properly titled the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, provides a shimmering contrast to the swanky, high rise apartment buildings that line Fifth Avenue. 
Its 106 liquid acres were originally intended to supply Manhattan with fresh water, but having been left obsolete by new pipelines, they now serve as an azure infield for the hundreds and thousands of joggers who circle the reservoir each day.
At night, the path around the reservoir is lit by an unbroken band of streetlamps that stand every thirty feet or so, and runners continue to tread its cinders until well after darkness descends. The trick to a successful glimpse of the reservoir at its most resplendent is to time your trip for just after sunset, when the sky is beginning to fade to inky purple and the trees are merging together into a single expansive shadow of leaves and boughs. If you are lucky, the moon will be near full, and its light will play off the waters, wiping out the darkening depths and leaving in their place a luminous palimpsest, broken only by the specters of sleeping ducks.
To the west, the dying rays will create an orange cast behind the silhouettes of buildings, with lights that blink into existence as the night falls, replacing the unified effulgence of the day with a handful of brilliant diamonds scattered across the horizon. 
A short walk from the gate to the north will bring you to a bend in the jogging path opposite the downtown Manhattan skyline, which in the twilight contains no fewer than ten different hues of glowing light. Observe the tops of the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings, or simply try to spot the red and white glare of the CNN sign. The darkness that sandwiches the line of light on each side only adds to its spectacular nature.
There are few places in the city at ground level that offer a more incredible view of its buildings at night. One truly feels that one is seeing a force that rivals nature taking shape in the shift from the solar sphere to the rivulets of electricity that spark up through the night air, flying thirty stories into the heavens, challenging the supremacy of the stars.
So if you are on the Upper East Side with friends or loved ones, and the sun is setting, don’t be afraid to take a walk to the park. Whether it be a romantic stroll or a jog through the dusk, the reward is a stunning vision of the city’s aesthetic, a revelation of power and potential, rising above tranquil and twinkling waters.