My lake experiences growing up were the kind where Mom piles the kids in the back of the car on the hottest day of summer and plops them on a sandy shore where other frazzled mothers have also planted themselves with the biggest umbrellas known to man, coolers of prepacked food, and their sunscreen-streaked children.
Those days were not often and they were not the highlights of my summers.
I’d heard tell of trips to Lake George, of which, you guessed it, I was not party to. As I grew up, I thought, But, why a lake when we have the beach?*
*One could also ask, but why the beach, when we have the city? Why the city when we have the mountains? We could go on and on…
A few years ago*, Lance and I drove through Skaneateles** during the summer and I said, “We need to stay here in the fall***.”
*So, in reality, more like ten years ago.
**On our way to Niagara Falls.
***The perfect time of year to be lakeside. Though I’ll bet summer isn’t too bad either.
I understand why younger me wasn’t impressed with the lake. The water is still. The bottom is rocky or muddy, maybe even both. There are creatures. It is landlocked.
Now that I’ve spent some time with a few lakes, older me loves it. The water is still, calm, and relaxing. The bottom is rocky or muddy, but the water can be clear. There are creatures, but I stay away from them and, for the most part, they stay away from me. It is landlocked, and where there isn’t a lakeview, there is a mountain view, a vineyard view, and picture perfect landscapes galore.
Because we hadn’t planned a summer vacation, our friend, Drew, insisted on driving up to the Finger Lakes so that I would stop complaining about not getting to leave the house. Before you start thinking what a nice friend, be aware, he had ulterior motives. The Finger Lakes are a dream of his, a one day I’d like to live there. This trip was a confirmation trip for him*.
*And, being the nice friends we are, Lance and I insisted on going to open houses while we were there.
The view from the back deck of one of the open houses we attended
I wasn’t prepared for the very Napa-esque-ness of the Finger Lakes region. I knew ahead of time there were vineyards there, but also that Riesling was the big seller. Not being a big white wine fan, I was prepared to be unimpressed with most of the wine.
To make a long story short enough for a blog post, I experienced reds, rosés, oranges, whites, and everything in between. I learned the proper pronunciation of Canandaigua Lake* and others, I found a delicious fig liquor, and discovered that Riesling does not need to be sweet**.
*After saying it incorrectly for about sixteen hours.
**Up until this point, even most dry Rieslings I’d tried had been a little too bright for me.
Possibly greatest of all, I fell for the allure of the lake. I understood the calm of it, the way that sitting lakeside can replenish the soul, and yes, more than once I swore that I would be able to swim across the lake if given the chance.
I saw a video recently of a European cutting Americans some slack for our lack of travel outside of our country. Over in Europe, it’s nothing to take a quick trip from Paris to Milan or Switzerland to London or Spain to Ireland. Yet, often Americans who have never vacationed outside of America are looked upon as uncultured or not well traveled because they haven’t explored the Old World. In the video, the size of America in comparison with Europe was pointed out—something I hadn’t really considered before. Yes, Europe is bigger, but barely.
We have a robust assortment of travel spots in America. We’re like our own Europe—with no need for a passport. We have desert and mountains and beaches and cityscapes—sometimes within short distances of one another.
After going to the Finger Lakes, I’ve realized anew* that there is so much to explore here in America, I don’t want to get hung up on a place made famous by time or TikTok instead of getting out there and exploring my country for myself**.
*Perhaps I’ve already realized it before, but the sentiment is fresh and alive now.
**This does not, of course, mean I do not have my heart set on trips to a scattered number of cities in the Old World. It just means I’m looking at travel, and how I plot it, a little differently.
The weather of the Finger Lakes is similar to that of Germany, which is why Riesling and Blaufränkisch and other German wines are made there. Though our trip was in September, we had unusual summer weather—and enjoyed every minute of it. Our favorite winery was Dr. Konstantin Frank’s, or what I lovingly referred to as Doctor Frankenstein’s for the better part of the trip.
Here is the best part of a short trip like this: it is so close to home a return trip doesn’t need years of waiting and planning. We’ll be back soon.
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