Day 32 (Sept 14)

For breakfast, microwave Asian soup bowls. (They work if you just add boiling water and wait a couple minutes.) Also, hot coffee! Then tender farewells.

Up from our camp on an impressive set of switchbacks. The trail creators brag (on a sign) that the maximum grade is 10%. It's a nice, easy way to rise.

Later trail is less magnanimous:

(Yes, that really is the trail.)

Some nice views today:

And a spooky garbage pile, with a torso:

Such little quirks aside, it's a great hiking day, with perfect weather and good trail through Sugar Hill State Forest. There are probably a lot of sugar maples around here, or were, but we see mostly pines and make camp in a pine plantation a bit north of the trail. The needles make for a very comfortable bed.

From our site, we spy a lone hiker pass us by, maybe heading to one of the many shelters around here for the night. He might have been behind us all day. This trail is so underpopulated that we almost want to run up and say hello... nah, we prefer to hide out alone in the tent and enjoy our little vices.

Highland Park 18 Year courtesy of Amy, thanks! And in the game, vengeance comes swiftly...

J  100  260  365  450  540
D  -15   35   85   95  165

Day 31 (Sept 13)

Up early to break camp before the rain. Light rain, not so bad. Trail is pretty good, looks like a lot of road walking on the map but it hasn't seen vehicular traffic in quite some time. Sometimes the blazing is a little confusing though.

Late morning brings a chilly wind and harder rainfall. Our light rain gear doesn't hold up for more than an hour in these conditions, and soon we're soaked to the bone. We hit a shelter around lunchtime, hang our clothes, and cower in our sleeping bags, hoping for warmth. After about an hour we can safely declare it a limited success, so I suggest we re-don our wet duds and return to hiking. Deb believes this will lead to hypothermia and possibly quick death. Putting wet clothes back on once you've warmed up really is the pits, but she acquiesces.

We've got a good reason to keep moving instead of waiting out the weather -- we've arranged to meet up with our friend Amy at a trailside campsite in Goundry Hill State Forest, about 4.6 miles away. The day is so wet and chilly that we have half a mind to tell her not to come, but we also fantasize about spending some quality time in her car with the heat blowing.

Luckily it doesn't come to that. As we arrive at the campsite, the clouds melt away and the sun bursts in. Amy and her dog Cola have braved the fierce weather and are already here, scouting the area. They've brought the works - dry firewood, a metal grill for the firepit, a stove and pots, many foods and drinks, first aid supplies, extra clothes, batteries. It's great to see a friendly face or two and have a campfire, which we haven't had since our very first night camping in Kelso Park, Ontario. Before long everything is joyous, warm, and dry.

Wow, what a noise! It's young mountain lass, a jug of shine in one hand and a short-barreled shotgun in the other, whooping for joy as she spots our campfire from the hillside, racing nimbly over the rocks towards us on her large, calloused, bare feet. Well, that's how I pictured her anyway. Amy says it's just a screech owl.

Being sensible about food consumption isn't even an option. We eagerly wolf down crackers, cheese, pepperoni, cucumbers, cookies, turkey dogs, tea, and whiskey. Good thing the tent is close by. This is quite a treat -- Thanks Amy and Cola!

Day 30 (Sept 12)

Excellent coffee and baked goods for breakfast at the Vinehurst. We meet the owner, who kindly allows me a short bit of blogging at the computer behind the desk. (I was behind then, and I'm still behind now...) We pocket a couple of croissants to befriend our leftover steak. (Thanks Vinehurst!)

On the trail, it's cold! We've filled the water bottles with ice, as we instinctively do when leaving a hotel, but it barely melts. Definitely a hint that summer's on the wane.

So, what trail do we hike today? Why, the "trail dejour!"

Just kidding. That's what we thought the sign said from a few paces, but it's actually "TRAIL DETOUR". Of course. This detour, though unfortunate, is not unexpected... the trail runs over a lot of private land around here and so is subject to the fickle priorities of the landowners. This particular portion has been "temporarily" closed for years now; no clear reason as to why. There are some lovely views from the poetically named Winding Stair Road, but sadly not of Keuka Lake.

Just before heading back into the woods, we fill up with water at a pumped well generously shared by the Jacquier family. Thanks, Jacquiers!

Back in state land, we're treated to an excellent bench next to a big old maple tree and the ruins of farmhouse. It's in memory of a hiker of note:

"Hiker," says Deb, "maybe that's what I am..." We won't rate as End-to-End hikers on this trip, though. Even if we do make it to the end and connect with the Long Path (which seems increasingly iffy), we'll be about 63 miles shy since we picked up the FLT at the intersection with the Conservation Trail, not the western terminus. Hopefully we can revisit that portion some year soon.

Since we're back in the state forest now, we can camp with relative impunity. Nonetheless we feel a little pressure to make some distance this evening because of rain predicted for tomorrow morning, which always slows us down. We pitch near dusk on a tree-covered hill, perfect for lashing up the rain tarp, and dig into our miraculous steak, croissant, and wine dinner, with pleasant memories of Pleasant Valley.

...Oh, and with an amazing 215-point hand, Deb wins our long-delayed card game:

D  -45    5   60  115  160  125  185  340  400  615

J   80  110  120   85  100  185  210  295  470  570

Day 29 (Sept 11)

With a short day planned, we have the luxury of waiting out the morning's rain in the shelter. But it's a restless business, waiting. We pass the time with a game of rummy 500:

D  -45    5   60 

J   80  110  120

The game moves slowly. The rain is done so we call off the game and pack up. But the moment we set foot to earth, the rain returns. No problem, we can retreat to the shelter and keep playing...

D  -45    5   60  115

J   80  110  120   85

Rain lets up for real, so off we... no, it's back.

D  -45    5   60  115  160

J   80  110  120   85  100

Will this game and this rain ever end? 

D  -45    5   60  115  160  130

J   80  110  120   85  100  185

Apparently not....

D  -45    5   60  115  160  125  185

J   80  110  120   85  100  185  210

Look, forget it, let's just go out into the rain! It can't last forever! It's probably stopping now... And a half hour later we're kicking ourselves soggily. Should've finished that card game. A couple more rounds would have done it.

We're on high farmland, planted here with sunflowers. Below to the west is a gorgeous stone farmhouse on a lake. Someone's got a hell of a nice spot, and has shared it with the FLT, which is awful sweet.

The rain finally moves on for good, and a covered bench comes a tad too late to save us from further drenching.

The sign on the inside says "Bus Stop" but I have my doubts. A bit further on we pass the intersection with the Bristol Hills Trail, which heads off north toward Prattsburgh and Cananaigua Lake, the westernmost of the major Finger Lakes.

375 miles still to go to the Long Path! That's a sobering thought. Our crazy, unrealistic goal for this hike is to connect with the Long Path and head home south to NYC. We'd like to at least make it to the Long Path though, and catch a bus home from the Catskills. But at the rate we're going, that'll take weeks. (This photo stolen from javajoe6 on panoramio, btw, since mine did not turn out. Looks like if you want a photo of something on the Finger Lakes Trail, javajoe6 has probably already taken one.)

We cross though corn into a forest of hemlock, and along the Mitchellsville Creek Gorge. The map notes point out that this is "very special."

It gets very deep with no warning! Pretty dramatic landscape, and a fun hike along the rim. We slowly descend to the water and cross onto the remains of the original B&H Railroad which used to connect Bath and Hammondsport, carrying wine southbound to the main line and empty bottles back north to the vineyards surrounding Keuka Lake.

Most of the rails are still intact, but completely overgrown. Here a very short section, about 100 feet, has been partially cleared and re-purposed as Finger Lakes Trail. (Reminds me of the Trans-Andean Railways scene from Fitzcarraldo.)

Though not suitable for many crops, this area has been an important grape-growing and wine-making region since the late 19th century. Before prohibition the wines being made here were of world-class quality, going toe-to-toe with established European houses in international wine competitions. Prohibition saw many of the vineyards converted to table grapes only, with the best vines and winemakers lost. Within the past couple of decades, though, things are looking up. Notable vineyards around Keuka Lake include Bully Hill (which we sampled a few days ago), Konstantin Frank, and Ravines.

Sadly, the trail doesn't pass through, or even close to, any of these. We don't even get to see the town of Hammondsport or Keuka Lake itself; the closest we get is crossing over Keuka Lake Inlet where Mitchellsville Creek joins it. We're about to end the day's hiking and emerge onto the road, but what's that lovely smell?

Ahh, grapes! Turns out they belong to a small winery just up the road, Chateau Renaissance, run by French immigrants and specializing in various French style wines, including several delicious varieties of Champagne. Weeks since leaving the Niagara region of Canada, it's a relief to be at a winery again. The sparking wine wouldn't fare well in our hiking bottles, but we can't resist buying a bottle of red for the road.

But for us the road ends here today, at the Vinehurst Inn (I'm sorry, "Inn and Suites!"), a friendly and charming home for the night. Some people might say we're in the outskirts of Hammondsport but the folks around here call this area Pleasant Valley. There's exactly one place to get food we can walk to from here, a fancy restaurant in the fancy B&B across the street. We scrub ourselves down until we're reasonably presentable, and put on our least-stinky clothes. The ruse works, and they seat us like regular people, at a romantic candlelit table for two. Let's be sensible about the food this time, eh?

Mmmm steaks. Let's get steaks. You want crab all over that? Hmm, okay, I'll get mine covered with coffee grounds. Sounds odd but it's delicious indeed! Sadly no Chateau Renaissance on the wine list, so we make do with a Ravines Meritage. Deb can barely finish her crab, so we have to take her steak to go. With our Chateau Renaissance red, this will make an excellent dinner for when we're back on the trail tomorrow night. Tonight, we have the comfort of a king bed and a full belly.

Day 28 (Sept 10)

A dim dawn breakfast, and out on the trail early. We've got a longish day ahead of us -- no friendly state forests on this stretch, nor any camping on private land until we reach the Hickory Hill lean-to in about 18.2 miles. The days are getting shorter and we don't like hiking in the dark.

A lot of road walking today, but some interesting scenery:

It's a wind farm! (Based on the haystacks, I think it's also a regular farm.) Those turbines are surprisingly noisy, a lot like having an older dishwasher running in the next room. But for those who find the sound of clean dishes celebratory, the wind concern was nice enough to build a little public picnic pavilion. Pity there's not a little mini-turbine on its roof, powering a USB cell phone charging port. That would be endearing.

And here's what a soybean farm looks like:

Not as dramatic as a wind farm, but comforting in other ways.

We do have little bits of trail on private land today, and I should mention that it's really nice trail. In general we fear the private land sections as they're often roughly conceived and undermaintained, but today it's a joy. The very best apples of the entire trip are here, two lone survivors, small and tart and sweet, from two tiny, beleaguered trees on either side of the trail.

Mostly, though, we're on high, dirt roads, looking anxiously for the next trail turnoff.

Also, we've got some nice looking abandoned houses:

We descend to the Cohocton River valley and cross under I-86/NY-17 just north of the city of Bath. Our impression is that most FLT through-hikers detour to the south for some supplies & R & R, but we're still fresh from Hornell so we've decided to skip Bath (ha ha) and hope to have a night of it tomorrow near Hammondsport instead. Thus all we see of the Bath scene is the Lost Indian Trading Post (and met the Lost Indian himself! Nice place but sadly not much for us there but tiny meat sticks), gravel trucks and spooky houses. Supposedly it's a fun town, though.

We reach our day's destination, the Hickory Hill lean-to (still on private land, belonging I think to the Hickory Hill Campground somewhere below) with plenty of daylight to spare, and feast on sandwiches with prosciutto and mozzarella, accented with some mint we found growing on the side of the road in the valley. Deb is nervous as always because this is a pleasant spot, and people could show up at any time...

...but they don't. Our evening is blissfully unsocial. We retire as the rain clouds gather, and the lean-to keeps us pretty dry through the night. The taller among us might consider sleeping with our heads on the inside next time, to avoid the facial-cleansing spray of the shifting winds.

Day 27 (Sept 9)

Sad little breakfast at Days Inn, and we're off. The trail out of town goes right through the parking lot of the Econolodge, which actually looks quite nice. We resist the temptation to check out their breakfast spread and head uphill into the woods.

Here's an artsy little trail register box...

What wonderful surprises await us inside? Mice, bats, giant spiders, scary earwigs, killer mold?

Nope, this one's just got a regular log book. What a relief! I'm pretty insistent that we always sign into these logs, and try to leave helpful tips for anyone hiking in the opposite direction... like "Stay at the Econolodge, not the Days Inn" or "Be careful, the next register box is full of mice!" And I always check back through the recent entries to see if any likeminded hikers have left similar tips. The Daves from Ithaca have signed in, but they didn't have anything useful to say it seems.

Our packs are heavy with Hornell provisions, but luckily we have a short and easy day planned. Then this:

Drat, another landowner dispute no doubt. It looks brand new, and it must be or the Daves would have mentioned it, right? Not wanting to further endanger our precious easements, we have no choice but to take a 3+ mile road walk detour. It feels unfriendly, but it's slightly scenic I guess:

Those apples are signs advertising "LAIN'S CIDER MILL" up the hill. It looks a bit like a junk yard:

Apparently it's actually a going concern, but not yet open for the autumn pressing season. No cider for us.

When we finally trudge back up to the trail, we're very curious to see the nature of the closure that we'll be feeling in our knees all night. Turns out it's not a landowner dispute at all, just some work being done on a bridge where the trail crosses the Cunningham Creek:

The bridge isn't even "out", it's just being resurfaced, so we certainly could have crossed along the edge. We might have had to wait for the work crew to leave for the evening, if they didn't let us across... or we could have easily forded the creek; it's about twenty feet wide and an inch deep. Regardless, the detour feels really silly.

Oh well. Here's our home for the night, a shelter in Burt Hill State Forest. No rain to dodge tonight, but we're too tired and grumpy to mess with the tent. Easy day, my eye!

Day 26 (Sept 8)

We're not carrying any cooking equipment on this trip, but for our breakfasts Deb has developed a very satisfying powdered coffee concoction that, when shaken vigorously in a water bottle, froths up into something like a cold cappuccino. Even in chilly weather, it's actually much more pleasant than the hot instant coffee ever was. We brought a big ziplock full from Brooklyn and we've been carrying it since Toronto, and with today's breakfast that ziplock's empty -- the very last of our original supplies gone. Good thing the trail's heading into town, skirting the north edge of the small city of Hornell, down in the foggy valley below:

We wind downward on roads and trails, through a Christmas tree farm, along corn fields and an old railroad, and suddenly emerge at the Hornell Days Inn. The Hotel Lafayette in Buffalo was kind enough to mail my forgotten rain jacket here, and the Days Inn was kind enough to hold it for me, so we feel like we kinda have to stay here. Had been considering a "zero day" here in North Hornell, just spending a day doing laundry, shopping, and relaxing, but the environment's a little underwhelming... the hotel's a dump, there's no laundromat, and the nearby commerce strip is mostly vacant and doesn't warrant a whole day's dallying.

We are lucky enough to have an Aldi, the mysterious discount German grocer, within walking distance. It's a good place to find knock-offs of various General Mills granola bars, and they even have an instant cappuccino mix to replenish our coffee supply! Also nearby is a Dollar General -- I've got to say that these "dollar" stores are more impressive than I remember, or maybe that's just the trail madness? Lots of easy-prep and ready-to-eat foods, toiletries, medical supplies, batteries, clothing. This one has a particularly impressive selection of cell phone cables. Hopefully I picked a sturdy one this time.

Speaking of trail madness, it's bafflingly hard to make good eating decisions when your brain's been in the woods too long. It would be sensible to focus on fresh fruits and vegetables to fill in the nutritional gaps of a granola and jerky diet... but somehow for lunch we end up ordering deep-fried seafood, as always. There's a cute bar/restaurant open for dinner, Club 57... Split a pizza? No, let's each get a pizza! I'll take the macaroni and cheese pizza! (What?)

(Why?) Oh well, at least there's something green on there. Deb's sane enough to get tomatoes on hers. Pizzas dispatched, we teeter back to the Days Inn and do our best to sleep off the cursed excesses of city life.

Day 25 (Sept 7)

Chilly morning at Bossard's. Rain is gone and skies are clear and blue.

These ladies think they're coming with us down into the woods, but Honey-Dip knows the score --that's an electric fence gate.

Today we cross through Klipnocky State Forest and on into Bully Hill State Forest. There were small bits of State Forest around Franklinville, but these are much larger and make for some very nice sections, without the worry about private landowners closing the trail on a whim. These are actually almost all abandoned farmland, bought up by New York State in the early 20th century and replanted with seedlings for "for watershed protection, the production of timber, and for recreation and kindred purposes." These forests form the backbone of the FLT in this area, and have a very liberal camping policy -- you can camp anywhere you want, for up to 3 days, as long it's 150 feet away from roads, trails, and water. In addition, there are designated shelters and campsites that are just offtrail and usually near water.

But clean up your trash, people! It's horrifying to see a porcupine with his face stuck in a tin can, stumbling blindly around the trail with his quills quivering in terror. If you've ever left a tin can in the woods, feel bad! Now! And never do it again!

On a short bit of road walk between Klipnocky and Bully Hill, we're suddenly swarmed by humans: some buzzing by on dirt bikes, some picking guitar on the porch, even some fellow hikers. Weekend, I guess. Though it's not popular or crowded, the FLT crosses lots of roads and so hasn't really given us much in the way of long-term solitude. It's probably been about 24 hours since we saw our last humans in Garwoods, and that's about as good as it gets on this trail.

The hikers are a couple of Daves (popular name around here) from Ithaca headed westbound to Portageville where, they tell us, there's a lovely little inn. How did we miss that? Portageville is literally just three streets, and we walked them all. Oh well.

Despite the blue skies and sunshine, it's cool all day. Autumn may be upon us. We make a cozy camp on the far east end of Bully Hill, about 155 feet from the trail. (Can't be too careful.)

Day 24 (Sept 6)

Storms all night through the early morning, but we're safe and dry in the cabin. For breakfast, farm-fresh egg sandwiches and stovetop percolator coffee.

This cabin, by the way, is brand new -- Dave just bought this land (adjacent to his farm) last year and finished building the cabin this spring. The intention was to be able to rent out the cabin and land for hunting, but so far it's been booked solid by the get-away-from-it-all crowd. It does look like a nice place to hunt from, though.

But Dave did another thing with the hunting land he bought: he reopened an old section of trail that used to go through here, eliminating a long stretch of road walk. Yay Dave!

We head east into Dave's land, following the Gator tracks and then up into the forest, then down into the valley, then up the steep but well-switchbacked south side of Rattlesnake Hill and down a Forest Service road into the tiny one-hill ski town of Swain. Thought we'd managed to wait out the rain before leaving this morning, but somehow we caught up with it in the lowlands. A chilly lunch under the covered porch of Swain's one business, a jolly-looking tavern that won't open until three... curses!

Our hike out of Swain is an old railway bed (part of the Pittsburg, Shawmut & Northern Railroad), blasted into the mountainside over a century ago. It's sprouted a few boulders and trees as the mountain slowly reclaims it, but is still a fine level walk with nice misty scenery.

During a short road section in the hamlet of Garwoods, we finally come across another self-service farm stand:

The rain is still teasing us, so we head for the next shelter on the map. It's called Bossard's Cabin, a hunting cabin on private land (Bossard's, I presume) that's open to hikers for free in the off-season.

How does Bossard's free cabin compare to Dave's $125 cabin, one might wonder... well it's older, a little ramshackle. It's got a much smaller porch. It's got no solar power or water. Like Dave's, it does have a gas-powered stove and lighting, and many beds. Unlike Dave's, it comes with a crowd of friendly bovines.

Daisy, Honey-Dip, Meg, Miami, Chevy. I like Honey-Dip the best.

Some peppers from Garwoods freshen up last night's ample leftovers, and it's another dry night for us, though here we opt for our sleeping bags instead of the cots.

Day 23 (Sept 5)

Hot morning on the trail, skirting the edges of corn and clover. Deb finally finds some raspberries!

We meet the local trail maintainer Dave, scouting for problem areas that are in need of a puncheon or a mow. He sighs a bit about the tough job of trying to keep the trail open over so much private property, trying to keep both the landowners and the hikers happy. The biggest source of trouble, he says, is off-leash dogs that run off the trail and raise heck with local pets and livestock. There are trail reroutes every year, some from landowners getting fed up with inconsiderate hikers, some to make room for new fields or new barns, and some due to land being sold to new owners who don't want the trail on their property. These reroutes are a lot of work. Dave is tired, but he says a new younger guy will be taking over his patch soon. Thanks for all your hard work, Dave! And good luck, new guy!

A few sweaty hours later we arrive at our Airbnb, where the innovations of 21st-century social internet commerce have finally intruded into our once-simple hiking routine. So this is the reward for all the fussing about cell signals and battery life; is it worth it?

Well it's pretty nice, a sort of deluxe hunting cabin. It's completely off-the-grid, with solar power available for lighting (though Deb prefers the oil lamps) and cell phone charging. It's got hot water... so nice to shower! And a decent kitchen. We've been carrying around a box of macaroni and a hunk of cheese since Portageville, and in skilled hands it becomes an elegant pasta dish, a good approximation of cacio e pepe:

Our host Dave (a different Dave) was kind enough to procure a bottle of Bully Hill wine for us! This is an auspicious choice on his part since we'll be hiking through Bully Hill State Forest very soon. The wine's not made there though; it's from Keuka Lake, a little further east. Anyway, it was a great dinner. Dave was also able to lend a charging cable for my phone, so I can take advantage of the solar charger. Thanks, Dave!

So yeah, I'm glad this place is here, and I'm glad we found it. Well-cleaned and well-fed, we do a little reading by lamplight and settle into one of the many beds for a soft quiet night.

Day 22 (Sept 4)

Sure, there may well be a camper-phobic New Yorker prowling the woods around the trail for unauthorized tenters. Probably with a firearm and a loyal dog with an excellent nose. But he's going to need his breakfast first, and by the time his coffee's boiling we'll be long gone.

We break camp silently in the dark. Not daring to use the flashlights, we go by touch alone, wincing at every accidental tent pole clink. We're on the trail by 5:30, and soon emerge into a field to catch our first real dawn:

We're still on brand-new trail, with lots of fresh blazes but very little actual path. One tries to imagine where the trail creators intended the path to be, and treads there. If enough people pick the same route it will get easier over time.

Eventually we re-connect with the old trail, and are relieved to find that the re-route has not cost us too much time. Today will be long (20 miles or so) but we started early, so it should not be beyond our abilities to make it to the cabin tomorrow. We navigate an elaborate maple syrup farm with a vast grid of sap lines and cute sugar shack, lunch at pretty pondside leanto in a boyscout camp, slog through blistering hot spell on roads and corn fields in the noonday sun, and climb though a hillside forest full of "odd dips and ridges." That's the map's description, pretty much right on though I'd add, as usual, "thick mud and brambles." Fighting through the brambles is just another fact of life on an underhiked trail. Sometimes, of course, they fight back...

We descend into the Genesee River valley and follow it upstream to the little village of Portageville. This town isn't right on the trail, but only about a half-mile detour, and we need to pick up some food. Not a lot here, just a single gas station convenience store and a really excellent tavern/bowling alley called the Letchworth Pines. Highly recommendable, wish we'd had time to bowl. Deb would like to add the specific note that the food here is significantly better and cheaper than what's served at the Red Coach Inn in Niagara Falls.

I confess to drinking Yuengling when by rights I should have had Genesee. This is a good table, by the way, because it's right next to an outlet and good for charging up the phone. That said, I'm not totally sold on the benefits of hiking with the smart phone. The cellular service is good enough at this point that the machine works... usually... if you walk a quarter-mile uphill, holding it aloft. It would be handy in an emergency. It's nice to have a location-aware weather forecast available. (By the way, weather forecasts in New York State are far and away more accurate than in Ontario, just sayin'.) And now we've gone and started to use it for Airbnb, a whole new kettle of fish there, we'll see how that shakes out. But being in touch with and reachable by the real world definitely breaks the spell sometimes. Not to mention the added duty of scanning for an outlet in every town situation.

Sensing my mixed feelings, the charging cable decides to call it quits right there at the Letchworth Pines, with the battery at a measly 12%. This is actually the second cable that's broken; the first I replaced in Canada. They sell super-tough cell phone cables at the hiking stores now, but wow, that would just feel like a bridge too far, eh? Optimistically, I dash off a quick line to our Airbnb host hoping to borrow a cable for tomorrow night, and power down.

The evening's hike takes us across the Genesee and up the ridge on the east side -- a grueling but gorgeous climb, with a pleasant view of the hilly farms and forests on the west side of the river where we'd been all morning. Just before dusk we make our destination, the Hesse Lean-to, generously shared with trail users by the Hesse family, whose land has hosted the trail for many years. Thanks Hesses! It's relaxing to be sleeping in an authorized manner again.