Today we decided not dawdle in the morning to beat the crowds at Watkins Glen. We were out the door by 9AM which I know for you working stiffs does not qualify as early. We again drove down the West side of Lake Seneca, but all the way to the end and beyond this time. The Gorge trail at Watkins Glen was amazing and beautiful and mind blowing and prematurely over as the last half mile was closed. And then to make it one way, you had to take one of the rim trails back to the parking lot. We weren’t sure we had beat the crowds until we got back to the visitor center and parking lot and saw that yep, we beat the crowds. But the most amazing thing was just how exquisite our timing was because as we went through the entrance tunnel to the gorge MBH was able to have part of the ceiling fall off and hit her in the head – fortunately she suffered only surprise and alarm but no injury. Good thing the ceiling wasn’t higher because then it might have hit me in the head.
We managed to squeeze in a couple more wineries (McGregor & Heron Hill) on Lake Keuka (pronounced just how it sounds) afterwards. We called ahead to make reservations, but apparently you only need them if you want a tasting, but not a glass or bottle. We are all adjusting to the constantly changing restrictions and challenges of 2020. Of course you still have to buy a food item to keep coronavirus away. The waitress last night was explaining that some food, like pizza, can cover two people, but most can only cover one and some don’t cover you at all. Fortunately for us, charcuterie boards can cover two, but we both had to buy oyster crackers at the second winery.
Good fortune followed us all day as not only was the weather near perfect but we sat next to a couple at the first winery who had been staying at a VRBO cottage on the lake all week so were as eager to talk to strangers as we were. A good time was had by all, including the men.
We drove on nothing but two lane back roads today: state highways, county roads, a couple of main streets, and some plain old roads that lacked lane markings of any kind (they even lacked shoulders I think, but without an outside line I’m just going by the narrowness of the pavement). We were never on the same road for more than five miles on the way back from Heron Hill which took two women – Siri & MBH – to keep me on track. At one point we turned of State 364 and then about four roads later turned back on to it (for a few miles, anyway).
And finally (I thought he’d never end): Please buy my book, Travels with MBH, once I get it edited down to a reasonable, Tom Clancy ish length.
In the gorge.
We, and by we I mean MBH, decided she would only ask people not wearing a mask to take our picture, and by golly that worked just fine.
The start of today’s adventure, and the gorge, although technically it’s the streams exit from the gorge. Plus nobody has taken a rock to the cranium yet.
Standing on the suspension bridge high above the gorge on our way back. If I may tootle our own horn with vigor, we aren’t doing too bad for our age. Just don’t ask me about my hip.
On the rim trail building these are a thing. I have no idea if workers demolish them every year or if they’ve been here for decades. Oddly enough, they were trail markers on top of Mt Pemetic in Acadia.
God: Nietzsche is dead.
Yes, I know the spelling isn’t the same, but the best puns are bad puns. And this is the photo and caption equivalent of a bad pun. Sorta.
