Leaf-peeping at Letchworth Park

The Upper-Falls and trestle. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

A few days ago I implied “blog-material” was “crazed experiences and utter madness.”
That’s not necessarily the case.
This past weekend my younger brother from northern DE, and his wife, came up to visit the old widower, me, I suppose partly to see if I was all right.
My wife dying was rather traumatic; still is, sorta.
I was kind of a wreck at first; still am, sorta.
I guess I’m doing all right. I haven’t burned the house down, and ain’t interested in suicide.
His visiting would be a challenge with my knee-problem.
My left knee is pretty-much bone-on-bone, and has me hobbling.
What we’ve done past visits is take my dog to the park. But for me walking that much is now out.
My brother suggested we go to Letchworth State Park, about 30-40 miles from my house.
It would mainly be driving, with some walking.
Well okay, I guess I can try that. It would be better than sitting around my house killing time.
Letchworth is a giant gorge carved by the Genesee (“jen-uh-SEE”) River from a higher elevation in southwestern NY to a lower elevation in central NY toward Rochester.
There are three waterfalls in Letchworth, at least two more in Rochester, before the Genesee attains the level of Lake Ontario.
The area was purchased by William Pryor Letchworth, and he managed to keep developers more-or-less at bay.
Developers wanted to harness the water-power of those waterfalls.
The gorge is about 15-20 miles long, around 600 feet deep in most places.
A flood-control dam was built at the north end of the park, and filled-up that dam-lake goes as far south into the gorge as the lower waterfall.
That dam keeps the Genesee River from flooding that area toward Rochester. The only time it’s been full is Hurricane Agnes, which did quite a bit of damage otherwise.
So the upper two waterfalls always look natural.
The upper waterfall is about 70 feet, and the middle about 120.
I would take my dog, who hasn’t been to a park for months. At age-10 she’s still a very high-energy dog.
I get depressed I can’t take her to the park.
A railroad also crosses the gorge, the sky-high trestle in my lede picture.
I’ve walked it, although you can’t any more. You could even walk it with a train on it. It’s around 234 feet above the river-bed.
That trestle is ancient and in bad shape. Trains can’t exceed 10 mph for fear of taking it down.
It was erected in 1875 when the first trestle, which was wood, burned.
The railroad will replace it. The line is operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad, and is the old Erie line to Buffalo. The line has become quite busy, as it’s now Norfolk Southern’s line across NY.
The trestle has become a bottleneck.
A train of auto-racks was slowly crossing the bridge as we drove in, but was gone by the time I got where I could photograph it.
So began my series of long hobbling hikes. I also had my lunging dog on a leash.
“Oh what a beautiful dog! Can I pet her?” We’re at Letchworth Park, surrounded by gorgeous scenery, yet my dog is getting more attention.
I took my dog to a car-show once, to accompany a friend I eat with who was displaying his Camaro. “That dog gets more attention than my car,” the guy told me.
My first destination was the restrooms, then the location of my lede picture.
Letchworth is a honky park. I don’t think I saw any African-Americans at all.
But lots of Asians; they had come in a tour-bus from Toronto.
Otherwise it was grizzled Harley-dudes and their bloated Harley-mommas.
Occasionally I saw young couples holding hands.
My college, Houghton College (“HO-tin;” as in “hoe,” not “how” or “who”) was about 20-25 miles south, so Letchworth was our default picnic-area.
Houghton is a religious school, not a party-school.
After taking my lede picture we hiked back to my car to go to Middle Falls.
We had come in my car, not my brother’s. My brother had also bought sandwiches.


Middle Falls. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We then hiked to overlooks at Middle Falls. I took pictures, and I had to hand off my dog while doing so. My pictures are with my iPhone, then e-mailed home for processing. Doing all that is about 10-15 minutes per photo-site of my brother holding my dog.
During which my dog worries she’s being abandoned (gasp). She wants to be with me. My brother could never walk her; she’d keep coming back to me.
We then drove to a place called “Inspiration-Point.”


At Inspiration-Point. (You can see the trestle.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

More pictures, then back to my car.
You can see both the Middle and Upper Falls, plus the railroad trestle, but I wasn’t inspired.
Unholster tech-device. “No service.” “WHA...? I just got a text from my brother Jack in Boston.”
Gorgeous beauty all around, but people paying more attention to their cellphones. Then there was the lady trying to photograph the Upper Falls with her iPad — holding up that big beige panel.
Sorry dudes, I prefer my camera or iPhone. And most of the cameras I saw had gigantic telephoto cannons on them, the photographer’s phallic-symbol. (I’m sorry, but nine-times-outta-ten a telephoto ain’t what I need.)
We then drove to Lower Falls, which ain’t much to look at.
We hiked a bit, and came to a long path: 176 steps down to the Lower Falls.
“I can’t do that,” I said; “but I can probably keep hobbling.”
“Easy view of Lower Falls, 1,000 feet,” a sign said.
We walked a ways, but my brother stopped to ask if I wanted to turn around.
“Let’s keep going,” I said, hobbling.
We went farther, but came upon a short staircase up to what appeared to be the “Easy Lower-Falls Overlook.” But we could see the Lower Falls from where we were, so didn’t attempt the steps.
Climbing steps is hardest for me; I have to just-about pull myself up. If there’s no handrail, I can hardly do them at all.
From Lower Falls we drove home, a long ride to the north end of the park, then via a grocery and the place in Canandaigua that grooms and daycares my dog.
It was a social visit, the shop’s co-owner who I used to work with at the Messenger Newspaper. Why he cares about me I have no idea, but he more-or-less keeps me alive.
We also passed a giant Arts-and-Crafts Show at the north end of the park. 89 bazilyun cars, and hundreds of vendors. It was so crowded the local police were directing traffic at the north park entrance.
One also has to remember Letchworth is mainly the Civilian Conservation Corps, part of FDR’s New Deal during the Depression.
All the steps, paths, and stone-fences are the Civilian Conservation Corps.
If it weren’t for FDR’s New Deal, Letchworth might not exist.
And so concludes a visit by my brother, pleasant and a distraction from the awful fate that has befallen me.
But I always return to that same awful fate.

• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s my sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.)
• The “Messenger Newspaper” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger, from where I retired almost nine years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years (over 11 if you count my time as a post-stroke unpaid intern [I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I recovered fairly well]). (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 14 miles away.)