Day 33 (Sept 15)

"That's a race car," says Deb, as we approach an ever-louder engine hum wafting rhythmically though the trees. I'm always the skeptic, but it turns out she's right -- we're entering Watkins Glen, home to both a beautiful gorge and a renowned racetrack. We never catch sight of the track itself, but we imagine a resolute driver up early, getting in some morning practice laps.

In warmer weather, this would be a tempting swim. Further downstream the trail crosses the water, but oddly, despite the dire warnings of a treacherous ford, the water's nowhere to be seen.

Continuing eastward we enter Watkins Glen State Park, and signs of civilization begin to appear. At the next crossing, the water's back, but so are the "No Swimming" signs.

A tempting trailside treat that we dare not sample -- Deb swears these are maitakes:

Watkins Glen was once privately owned and promoted as one of the many competing "8th Wonders of the World", sporting a luxury hotel and elegant grounds for strolls and picnics. There's not a lot left from that era, but this old picnic house and tables maybe?

The trail rejoins the glen's canyon rim, which to our annoyance is blocked by an extensive chain-link fence. And suddenly also, here are the humans!

Small, but they're down there somewhere. We're finally in the populated part of the park. We've taken the long way (via Canada); most people hike up from the parking lot below:

Peeking around the corner is the village of Watkins Glen, at the south end of Seneca Lake. The Finger Lakes trail passes right through the main downtown, so we'll get some proper city life down there, not just a peripheral slice like we did in Franklinville and Hornell. We indulge in a celebratory lunch at Mr. Chicken, and check into the Villager Motel for the night.