On my last full day in Rochester, the forecast called for afternoon thunderstorms and my work schedule called for a Zoom call at 1 pm. Yes, I was on vacation, but I hadn’t been able to find a substitute for leading an on-line review session for a class I was teaching. A short ride was in the cards for the day – and I was about nine miles from Lake Ontario. A few years ago, I had gotten my tires wet in the Atlantic Ocean (in Maine) and the Pacific (in Washington – not on the same trip!). Those took care of the eastern and western watery borders of the lower 48. A trip to an actual Great Lake, not merely a canal, was clearly the next step.
According to the map of the Genesee Riverway Trail I found online, and several RidesWithGPS routes, it should have been easy to follow: cross from the west bank of the river to the east bank at Upper Falls Blvd, cross back on a no-cars-allowed bridge, then ride through city parks along the river to the lake. That’s what should have happened. Allow me to make a heartfelt request to city planners, parks departments, and traffic groups across the country: if you have a bike path that is a tourist destination in and of itself (like the Erie Canal Trail/Genesee River Trail combo in New York State, or the Route Verte in Québec), and you need to shut down part of that path for some reason,
please put up a detour sign! The no-cars-allowed bridge was closed with a gate that blocked off everything but the intent-looking construction crew behind it. So I managed to get a good view of the High Falls from the first bridge; but I was too worried about my route and about car traffic when I crossed back to admire any scenery.
The Upper Falls in Rochester
By the time reached the north side of Rochester and found myself downstream of two waterfalls, the pathway was sometimes on the road, and sometimes in parkland. I rode past a cemetery, back into another park, and tried to follow the signage. Without enough trees to block by GPS signal, navigation was a bit dodgy. What was clear that I had reached a major shipping channel. No more kayaks or canal boats – or at least, any small vessels on the water would need to think about large ships, the same way that I would need to worry about 18 wheelers if I decided to ride along an interstate instead of a bike path. The ships were BIG.
The working pier was BIG. The water stretched to the horizon.
The nineteenth-century lighthouse was decorative and historical, no longer a vital piece of maritime infrastructure.
Like lighthouses, but not a hermit? You can rent an apartment in this one!
Still, there was enough support for pleasure craft that I was able to find a small boat launch that I could ride down, wetting my tire in Lake Ontario.
A marina for smaller vessels
Atlantic, Pacific, and now Great Lakes! Next stop -- Gulf of Mexico?
Celebrating under a lakeside gazebo. Douglas and I left when we realized that the biting flies had gotten there first.
The ride back to the hotel had fewer unexpected twists and turns. I was able to stay closer to the Genesee, which meant that instead of riding back along busy Lake Avenue I followed the trail onto a boardwalk built across a marsh full of cattails. I stopped to just look at the view and seal it into my memory. Now, writing this, I’m sorry that I didn’t grab a picture.
Knowing that the trail bridge was closed, I almost retraced my steps to cross the river. Some retained spirit of adventure, though, had me ride as close to the blockage as I could get. I rode past the street bridge, continued south along the trail, looked to my left – and grabbed my brakes, hard.
What in the world?
What the??
Public art? Stonehenge on a budget?
No, the sarsens at Stonehenge are weathered, but mostly undecorated. These four cement pillars are covered in faces and hands.
Not just any faces and hands -- faces and hands of children in the community when this was made.
And in the center sits a piece of polished black granite, engraved with the words “SEAT OF FORGETTING AND REMEMBERING”.
No, in case you’re wondering, I did not walk between the uprights, enter the space, and sit on the center stone. The hairs on the back of my neck were up, my weirdness detector was somewhere between “uncanny” and “eldritch”, and – would you look at the time, I need to get back to the hotel for that Zoom class!
The sky opened later in the afternoon, but music got back on track around 6 pm. My highlight of the evening was a performer I had never heard before, Sy Smith. When her time on stage wrapped up, so did my time at the Jazz Festival: I bought two CDs and headed back to the hotel. (
) It had been a wonderful visit, but the next morning I'd be loading my bike into a rented pickup and driving back to Philly.