Ted and I are throughly spoiled this morning at the Laura Hubbell B&B as Holly’s breakfast was exceptional. We don’t want to go. But onward to Syracuse 52 miles away we must travel and with full bellies and extra blueberry scones in my saddlebag, we leave on a cloudy morning with a brisk, cooling breeze.
This is a welcome change from yesterday and as we get into the rhythm of the ride, we are comfortable and moving well. The only strange thing is that the Erie Canal is nowhere to be found. It is quite a few miles away. And what that means for us is that we have to go up and down hills. And more than we would like on roads shared with cars.
Farms are on either side of us as we pass Cayuga Lake, one of the many Finger Lakes in this region. Some have a variety of things to sell for passers by. After these farms, the Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge is on either side of us. Resting at a lookout point, there is a vast wetlands around us that is teaming with life.
The cool wind of the day is blowing straight at us, slowing our progress but bending over the nearby cattails and tall grasses that rustle and dance with the breeze. Ironically we pass over the working Erie Canal, but there is no path for us. It heads north, while we must follow the road.
Leaving the refuge, we are soon introduced to cattle through two huge exhaust fans that blow their stench toward us. Perhaps it is the intoxication of this scent that causes me to miss our turn to stop 1/2 mile up the road at the tiny Wiley Cemetery. The well-kept gravestones go further back than the Civil War.
Getting back on track, we start to traverse many a hill. Up and down. Down and up. Both Ted and I are getting tired of the hills. Coasting is so much better than climbing. Rest breaks become a bit more frequent.
After a couple of hours on hilly roads we rejoin the Erie Canal, but not the currently working version but an earlier structure that is now abandoned. The slimmed and unused 40-foot wide canal is ill-suited to accommodate today’s much larger vessels. The working version is miles away.
We are now traveling on the same path as those of the 1800s would have on a quiet path along a narrow channel of water. I suspect the surroundings looked much the same then as they do now with the exception of trees and shrubs growing between the towpath and the canal. Unlike today the tow patch was crowded full of people and animals. Now it accommodates only a pair of bikers on vacation.
The means of transport that replaced the commercial use of the Erie Canal—trains and trucks—run next to the old canal. If the loud noise coming from vehicles rolling on I-90 fades a bit it is more than compensated by hundreds of box cars and tankers rolling by on the adjacent rails.
But we do get away sometimes from these modern transports. Riding quietly, hearing only the sound of stone dust crackle gives me a sense of intimacy with the surroundings. The trees hang over the trail offering shade and a tunnel-like structure for us to pass through. So like the mule pulling a barge full of goods, we pedal on carrying our meager possessions with us to our next destination.
Passing through these abandoned sections of canal gives us the view of older technology that is no longer in use. The most prevalent are the stone foundations of old locks that only exist as large walls holding not water but mowed grass and trees. One such lock is lock 51 where we take a breather from the ride. It was in use nearly 100 years ago around a vibrant community. Now it is a park with a nest of baby birds resting on an informational sign.
Passing around these disused sections of the canal, I wonder if in 1000 years they will be exposed as they are today or will be buried in the earth to be discovered by future archaeological explorers who will speculate at their use and purpose.
Time continues to eat away at the canal as certain sections have become filled in with vegetation and soil while the towpath narrows in width barely accommodating a single bike. However, some sections still appear as they did over 100 years ago.
We rest at the aqueduct over nine-mile creek that carries the original Erie Canal. Because of topography, certain sections of the canal had to travel over existing rivers and streams creating an engineering challenge for its time. It’s still an amazing structure.
Nearing Syracuse the trench for the old Erie Canal disappears and we start a long climb up what we assume is an old landfill that has been reclaimed for wildlife. It is actually quite beautiful with grasses, Queen Anne’s Lace, thistle and other wildflowers surrounding the paths on both sides. Reaching the top we realize that this portion of the canal is buried under millions of tons of debris and ironically trucks are still arriving to add to it. We have an invigorating coast down the opposite side of this huge pile.
And once we reach the bottom, we find the remnants of the Erie Canal. But soon any semblance of a trail or nature is gone reaching a section of Syracuse with railroads, old factories, expressways and the NYS Fairgrounds that proclaims it will return this August. We wend our way through backroads and arrive at our hotel.
