Rochester, NY to Sodus Point, NY. 54.1 miles.
I was up just before 7:15 am knowing that AJ was going to leave for work soon. With my bike ready to go in the garage, I made a quick departure, thanking him for his great hospitality.
Just a few blocks away, a family-owned restaurant serving up breakfast had my name all over it. I was excited about pancakes on this morning. Not because every morning is a good morning to be exicted about pancakes. But, this morning in particular, I was prepared for pancakes.
You see, despite the fact that I am in maple syrup territory, surrounded by maple trees and the people who know how to practice the ancient craft of drawing sap from the trunk and boiling it down to produce the incredibly tasty natural treat, rarely is maple syrup served at a restaurant. It's not because the alternative is preferred, or in high demand. In fact, I can't imagine that anyone, if given a choice, would choose the fake version disguised to taste like the real thing.
In Chicago, when Victoria and I ate at The Sweet Maple Cafe, we weren't given a choice. They served the real thing: maple syrup - you know, from maple trees. In one other cafe on my trip, I was given the option for $1 more to have what was in my mind, the only option - real maple syrup.
In every other cafe, diner, and restaurant across America, without any discussion about it, one of the breakfast table-side ornaments is a bottle of "pancake syrup", also known as corn syrup with synthetic chemicals added to give it that funky maple taste. Now that I know that most corn in the U.S. is GMO corn, and most of that is grown from Monsanto proprietary seed that is "Round-Up Ready", and that corn is used in the production of corn syrup. I've decided that from now on I am going to refer to the alternative syrup, which is really commonplace, as "Round-up Ready GMO Pancake Syrup."
While I LOVE pancakes, especially while on this bicycle trip where carbs are my friend, I have often refrained from ordering them simply because I can't stand the taste (or lack of a taste) of Round-Up Ready GMO Pancake Syrup, and eating pancakes dry is not fun.
Where am I going with this? While at Niagara Falls, I happened to spot in a gift shop window, very small bottles of 100% real Canadian maple syrup. I can't justify carrying the weight of a big bottle of real maple syrup around with me on a bicycle trek (although, don't think I haven't considered it), but these bottles were the perfect size. So, I bought one, and walked out with a grin on my face, imagining the future circumstances that would provide the opportunity to use it.
And here I was, at a cafe serving huge pancakes with Round-Up Ready GMO Pancake Syrup. When the waitress plopped the heavy plate of golden hot pancakes on my table, I slid my bottle of real maple syrup out from my pocket, twisted the cap off, and drizzled it all over the pancakes. It was unbelievably delicious.
Straight in front of me at the next booth over, a father and his three kids sat. They spoke with me about my trip, and he insisted on buying my breakfast as I stood up to leave. It happened again. Another gesture of kindness towards a stranger on an American adventure. On a full stomach, I headed back to the Erie Canal Trail, following it out of town. In and around Rochester, the trail was heavily used by bicyclists, runners, walkers, roller-bladers, and parents pushing strollers.
A few miles down the trail, I came to another lock. In the photo below, you can see the water level, which is near the top of the gates.
I rode to the other end of the lock, descending down to reach the water level of the canal on the other side, and looked back to see the large doors that are holding back the water.
A few miles further and I was in the cute little town of Pittsford. Along the waterfront, a promenade with shops had people mingling about. And, tour boats launched from here for a 2-hour ride down the canal.
Between Pittsford and Fairport, I was joined by another cyclist out getting some exercise. He rode with me for a few miles. He was a philosophy professor at a local college. We chatted for a while, he being inspired to travel by bicycle with his son by the time we were done talking. Along the way, a roadblock had me thanking my stars that he was alongside me, as I didn't have to take all the bags off my bike to get it up and over the obstacle. He grabbed the front and I lifted the back up and over.
Further down the canal, a rail line busy with freight trains joined the route, a subtle reminder of the advances in transportation over time that have taken away commerce traffic from the Erie Canal.
I then entered a quiet section of the canal trail, the silence interrupted only by a variety of birds chirping, and the occasional freight train passing alongside me. I've seen several beautiful birds over the last few days crossing the trail, including orioles and cardinals.
In this peaceful section, I could occasionally hear my stomach growling. In anticipation of reaching another town to eat, I decided to dig through my handlebar bag to see if there was a light snack handy. There it was, a fortune cookie left over from my Chinese food takeout of the night before.
I opened it up while pedaling. My fortune read, "Every action has a counteraction. Just if you can see it or not." I wasn't sure what was more interesting - the wisdom behind this message, or the grammatical presentation. As I contemplated the action, and it's counteraction, I heard something. That something was the action of a rock piercing through the rear tire of my bicycle and into the tube. The counteraction: me spending the next 40 minutes having a trailside almond butter and honey sandwich while changing the flat. Fortunately, this time I was equipped with a nifty "tire boot" that would seal up the tire from any future intruders working their way into the tube.
Between Macedon and Palmyra, an old lock no longer in use, the newer canal section now adjacent to this historic Lock 60 site.
The Macedon's Trail Committee and Historical Society plaque provided the following brief but interesting history of this lock, "The original 1825 Erie Canal (Clinton's Ditch) proved so successful that in 1841 Lock 60 was built as a single chamber as part of a system-wide enlargement. Whereas the "ditch" was four feet deep and forty feet wide, the enlarged canal was seven feet deep and seventy feet wide. Traffic on the enlarged canal was so great that in 1874, a second chamber was constructed alongside the first to permit simultaneous lockings of East and West bound boats. The length of the second chamber was doubled in 1888 to further increase capacity. Lock 60 was abandoned around 1914 with the completion of the third version of the canal, the one still in use today."
A short distance further, and over a series of hills, I came to the town of Palmyra (pop. 3,536). Palmyra represented the end of my travels along the Erie Canal, the beginning of the Mormon Religion, and a site that was part of the Underground Railroad slave movement.
The Erie Canal continues from here to the East, eventually connecting with the Hudson River at Albany. But, my path would turn 90 degrees, heading North from here towards the Southern shore of Lake Ontario. Before moving on, I stopped for a bite to eat and to check out the town.
Right on Main Street, a house built by Pliny Sexton in 1827, was a "station" of the underground railway in the days of slavery.
After devouring a huge chicken parmesan sandwich at an Italian restaurant in town, I made my way North. Just outside of the town proper, and on a hill, I came to the Martin Harris Farm, which was mortgaged for $3,000 in 1829 to provide funds for the first publication of the Book of Mormon.
Through much of New York, I have seen yard signs out in front of homes stating, "Repeal the S.A.F.E. Act". In this area especially, the signs were common.
I was curious to find out more about it. Apparently, it's a gun control law that was recently, and hastily, passed. According to an article in The Blaze, it "mandates that law enforcement personnel sieze without a warrant, probable cause, or hearing, some firearms." One thing is for sure, a lot of New Yorkers in these parts don't like it.
I rode through mostly apple orchards on my way to Lake Ontario. In a few places, peach and plum orchards could be found. And, occasionally, the ever-present corn and soybean fields covered the landscape, although orchards were dominant.
Also of interest, numerous households with backyard gardens place their extra fruits and vegetables up for sale, usually in a cart or on a table at the edge of their property along the road, with a coffee can repurposed as the bank to which passers by deposit money in exchange for yellow squash, peaches, blueberries, etc. Also in a few places, U-Pick blueberry patches. I stopped at a road-side cart and picked up a pint of fresh local blueberries, intending to add them to the menu for tonight's dinner.
Reaching the lake-side town of Pultneyville, NY, I hit the brakes to take a photo of this magnificent old house.
Then, around the corner, I could see Lake Ontario just beyond another 90 degree bend in the road.
I continued along her shore for another 10 miles or so, occasionally getting a sneak peak of her beauty between apple orchards. As the sun was now at a low angle, the shadows cast between the rows of apple trees produced a neat pattern of shadows on the grass below.
I passed Burnap's Farm Market, boasting among other things, "Fresh Peach Sundaes". I turned off the road to check it out, but it was closed.
Just a few miles before reaching my destination for the evening, Sodus Point, NY, my rear tire went flat again. This time, I think it was a corner of the tire boot (patch) that was raised up just enough to create an abrasion point. It wore slowly through the tube since I applied it earlier today, and now I was dealing with the consequence. I decided to patch the tube this time, hoping that the patch would provide some additional protection from any abrasion point that still might exist.
Back up and running, I hurried to get to the campground hoping that my tube patch would hold. It did. I arrived at the "South Shore R.V. Park", just West of Sodus Point.
The campground host was incredibly nice, and welcoming. She told me that the owners of the campground love people, and like to help them out whenever possible. For cyclists, she said that they only charge $5. And, that includes full use of the ammenities (hot shower, water, electricity, etc).
I was tired and hungry, having just made it before sunset, and after encountering hills for the first time in a while, not to mention dealing with 2 flat tires. I leaned my bike up against the picnic table, grabbed my pint of blueberries, and walked through the campground looking for a good place to just sit and relax for a few minutes. As I rounded the corner, there was Lake Ontario, right in front of me. I was unaware until this point that the campground was perched right above the shore of the lake.
It was perfect timing, as the sun was just above the horizon, and above the lake surface, casting brilliant orange and red colors across the water.
I walked into the grassy slope to the edge, the land eroding away down to the lake shore below. I sat in the cool grass at the edge, my feet dangling off, and ate incredibly-flavorful blueberries while watching the sun set.
The lake was beautiful, tranquil, peaceful. This was an amazing place that I had stumbled upon. Most of the lakefront sites were designated for R.V.'s, all occupied with retired folks enjoying their Summer. One cabin for rent sat here at the edge, with a deck overlooking the lake. The manager must have seen me enjoying the view from the grassy knoll, as he walked up to me and said, "You know, there isn't anyone in the cabin tonight." He continued, "If you want, you could sleep right out on the covered porch for the night." I was all over that offer. It was the best real estate in the park, with a rocking bench, table, chairs, and enough space for me to sleep.
I ate dinner at the table, enjoying the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. Then, I set up my sleeping mat on the deck and retired for the night. But, after about an hour of waving off the occasional mosquito buzzing around my ear, I decided that the protection of a tent would insure a better night of sleep. So, I set my tent up right on the deck.
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