Stairways and Waterfalls

Top of the Gorge Trail, Watkins Glen, NY

3 October 2015

Watkins Glen, at the bottom of Seneca Lake, was on my list of things I wanted to do. Taking a page from Tom's book of Check the Radar and Do It Anyway, I checked the radar and did it anyway.  We had a window before the chance of rain went up, so I put on my darkest sunglasses and dragged Jack, and my eye and a half, up the 1.5-mile long trail.

The Gorge Trail isn't a trail in the purest sense, because it's all flat rock and built stairways.  On the other hand, there are over 800 stairs from start to finish.  This is a trail that can be done in jeans and sneakers. There were all sorts of people on the trail, none dressed like a hiker.  That's the kind of trail this is.

At the halfway point, the difference in fitness between me and Jack started to show itself. I  was hopped up on naproxen and caffeine, and focusing on the middle distance doesn't make my eyes tired, so I was happy to be moving.  Jack said he was awaiting death's sweet embrace. I supposed I'd have been more winded without a bloodstream full of drugs.

The intermittent drizzle at the bottom of the trail had changed to real rain at the top.  We paid a small fee to take a shuttle bus back to the trail head. The driver peppered the short ride with facts and sightseeing, including an elk farm (shed antlers fetch a pretty penny).  When we got back, I went into the gift shop and bought Jack a stuffed moose for being a good sport.

Now, the pictures.  I can't focus well today without my reading glasses, so I apologize in advance if the photos aren't up to my usual snuff:

These are not grapes:

The view from the top:

After lunch, the rain was coming down as hard as it had been when we got here.  We went to another winery because it was there and the website promised tours.

Glendora Winery is huge and has its own hotel.  It wasn't on Jack's list of good wineries, and they don't give tours after all. Being a rainy Saturday afternoon, the huge tasting room was crowded with more than just middle-aged heterosexuals. We saw our first minority outside of the museum/state park bubble.  The wine wasn't very good; Jack didn't buy any.

I took pictures of Seneca Lake from inside the tasting room:

We drove home and I took a nap.  My condition is much improved since yesterday, but I'm far from healed. I can only hope (because I can't do much more) that by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow the swelling will have gone down enough that driving for more than half an hour doesn't make me sleepy.  To combat that, I plan to have two mugs of Wagener Estate Bed and Breakfast's coffee at my side for the trip, and for Jack to poke at my leg at regular intervals all the way to New Jersey.

Hey!  I did this whole blog post without resting my face!  Improvement!