“Ted, we’re not in Medina anymore,” I tell my riding companion as we look to cross a busy highway with cars and trucks whizzing by at high speeds with little regard to our need. We are in the thick of Rochester, which is a far cry from where we were and what we saw just a few hours ago.
The morning in Medina started out splendidly with a hardy breakfast and little chance of rain. Crossing a bridge to start cycling, we must dismount our trusty two-wheelers because the top of the Medina Aqueduct is too rough to ride. This engineering marvel carries the canal over a creek that expresses itself with spectacular waterfalls. Walking, instead of biking, lets us take in its beauty at our leisure.
But it is time to ride and we hop on our bikes to start our 58-mile trip to Bushnell Basin. Weeping willows brush the canal’s water as warblers and robins sing to us and anyone in earshot. The morning is slightly cloudy with low humidity: a perfect start for the day.
Hickory nuts and mulberries are scattered on the trail as we roll by. Corn fields and apple orchards are to our left with some of the apple trees lined up and trimmed as Espalier, looking more like grape vines than trees bearing fruit that is more likely to wind up in a autumnal pie.
The ride is peaceful and contemplative as we encounter no other cyclists during our first hour on the trial. The only people we see initially are those employed by NY state to maintain the canal. They are mowing the wildflowers and grasses adjacent to the trail.
Resting for a water break, the first biker of the day passes us by while I admire the numerous wildflowers in the spots that have yet to be mowed. They include milkweed, chicory, buttercups, red and white clover, Queen Anne’s lace, nipplewort, camomile, narrow leaf plantain, chickweed, golden rod and ragweed. The areas that have not been cut are thick with life in the form of monarch and other butterflies, bees, flies and birds hiding in the taller grasses. The cut areas have few such visitors.
It seems that the entrance to every town has a hydraulically controlled bridge that goes up to let boats pass by and down to let cars pass over. At many of them, new plantings of chokeberry and arborvitae line the trail for hundreds of feet. I’m unsure of the purpose of such uniform plantings as they do not add much to the inherent beauty of the trail.
Creatures are around us though we have to look carefully to see them. Another water break reveals a garter snake. Groundhogs and bunnies scamper from canal edge to the forest. And of course Canadian geese are all over the trail in more ways than one. A swamp to our left with cattails and a lone heron that flies off is a welcome change from what we have been seeing for the last few hours.
A few homes along the canal embrace a more natural landscape; one we spot with daisies, black eyed susan, coneflowers and other pollinator favorites is teaming with life. It reminds me what should be encouraged in the garden.
After a fine lunch in Brockport, we notice an increase in canal traffic for pleasure craft and in particular canal boats that are rented by families. Equipped with bicycles lashed on their roofs, these long, skinny craft look like a fun activity taking one from port to port.
We can’t spend much time looking at such sites, however, as trail conditions deteriorate leaving large puddles and mud slicks that look to topple us from our mounts. We avoid such a fate, but not without an effort.
With a focus on not falling comes increased heat and humidity that starts to sap our resolve. We stop more frequently to rest and hydrate. Also the farm lands are past us and houses, factories and other signs of a city begin to close in on us.
Approaching Rochester, we ride in a tunnel of vegetation that shields us from the sun and affords an occasional cool breeze off the Erie Canal. But no amount of vegetation can shield us from noisy roads and expressways carrying loud and fast moving vehicles. Soon the city arrives.
The trail has become more varied in elevation requiring us to shift gears and put more effort into our travels. The last 100 miles has spoiled us with its uniform flatness. We push on through Rochester.
A canal lock is at work dropping a boat traveling east to the lower level of the water beneath it. Gushing torrents of brown water emerge from the bottom of the yet unopened lock waiting for the equalization of fluid inside and outside the lock. Nearby, over a dozen moorings are cemented into the ground, no doubt well used by waiting barges well over a century ago when the canal was dominated by commercial rather than pleasure craft.
So far we have cheated the humidity and heat of the day without a single drop of rain. Thickening clouds and thunder imply that our time is up. We need to pick up the speed but to no avail. We can’t beat out the rain.
Luck gives us a bridge to shield ourselves from a torrential downpour. Less than 20 minutes later, the sky clears permitting us to finish our day on the trail.
3 Comments
That was beautiful! You really got a sense of the work and the struggle that goes into the ride, two misspelling trial instead of trail and another late on , just a juxtaposition of letters , you quickly realize the right word. Really cool description of the water in and out of the canals lock .
Really nice. Hope you guys can navigate the rain fall!
We did!