SKANEATELES

Friday, July 2, 2010

This lake walk is special for many reasons. Our family has spent many summers here, and my children, nieces, and nephews grew up enjoying time on the lake. So when my son Zachary offered to accompany me, I was happy to share the experience with him.

When I asked if he had trained, he said that he’d done some hiking during a trip to Georgia. Okay, then!

In the early morning darkness, we drove to the southern end of the lake, parking in a boat launch area in Glen Haven. It was a chilly morning for July, and we wore sweatshirts at the beginning of the trek. After half a mile on Glen Haven Road near the lake, we veered west and continued climbing away from the lake past New Hope, home of the mill that produces our favorite pancake mix.

Skaneateles’s West Lake Road is Route 41A, a steep and narrow-shouldered two-lane. A truck passenger offered his hand for a tricky high-five as they drove by. We declined the offer!

With partly cloudy skies and seventy-five degree temperature, our sweatshirts became a burden.

Fortunately, my wife Toni was in the area and relieved us of the extra clothing while also delivering fresh water supplies. Zach was limping, but refused to ask for a ride from his mom. I think he was determined not to back out and be shown up by his old man!

From 41A, we proceeded to West Lake Street past the country club and into the village where we stopped for lunch. Zach had called ahead to the Blue Water Grill for a meal, and I just grabbed a couple of cookies in the village. The park at the northern end of Skaneateles has a nice view down the lake. From there, we walked along Route 20 and headed south on East Lake Road. Views of the lake there are blocked by big homes and landscaping, but we saw the Skaneateles Sail Club and some llamas grazing in a yard with a huge carved wooden bear.

Just north of the town of Borodino, we paused for another snack and water before a steep grade down Vincent Hill Road. Zach was wincing with each step on this gravel road. By the end of our walk, the soles of his feet were one huge blister.

We had walked forty-three miles in twelve hours together, a great source of pride for us both.

All the attention to this adventure brought us a piece of news: one of Zach’s friends repeated the information that there are, indeed, eleven Finger Lakes!  I didn’t want to be accused of shirking, so I resolved to complete all eleven.

Next was Seneca Lake, eighty miles around. What had I gotten myself into?