Squandering Time

The drive from Erie, PA to Victor, NY, is only a little over three hours. There is no need to hurry.  We feel rich with this gift of time and begin to squander it early.  Since the Clarion is very close to Presque Isle State Park, and since there are two lighthouses on this peninsula, Michael lets me know he would like to take a quick trip to see them before heading to Victor.

Presque Isle State Park

We arrive at the first one; gates closed and a sign that says Private Function.  We get out of the car and start taking pictures from afar, between the trees. We drive the entire length of the park, looking for the second lighthouse, finding nothing.  Michael suggests I Google it. 

“For someone who thinks very little of my phone, you sure do ask me to look up things all of the time,” I say.

The lighthouse exists.  I see pictures but no directions on how to get there. “It is out on a jetty,” I tell Michael, “reaching way out into the lake.”

We retrace all of the park roads one more time, turn toward the Coast Guard Station—and there it is. I laugh when I see the sign that says to be careful of the uneven surfaces. They apparently have never seen a jetty on the Texas Gulf Coast.

Lighthouse Fever

Now I have lighthouse fever.  I Google information on lighthouses on the New York banks of Lake Erie.  There are two right across the New York border, one in Barcelona and another in Dunkirk. And I thought we were in the US.  On the way to Barcelona, we see a sign to Hamburg.

After four lighthouses and a rather terrible breakfast buffet—where we ate very little—I start checking Google Maps for nearby restaurants.  I find a favorite of locals and guide Michael to its door. He parks the car across the street, looks at me, and says, “Are you sure this is where you want to eat?”

Jenna’s 4th Street Café

We walk into the tiny café and nab the last empty table, ordering the Friday special, haddock.  The deep-fried fish fillet, with a generous helping of tartar sauce, is so large it nearly covers the entire plate; then there are French fries, macaroni salad, coleslaw, and white bread with butter. I think this is probably one of the unhealthiest meals I have ever seen.  Michael eats the whole thing.  I nibble—I can’t afford to buy all new clothes when we get home.

During lunch, I tell Michael about two more lighthouses that are almost on the route to the hotel—just a tiny detour. Then I mention one that I think looks rather grand but is too far out of the way; it is at old Fort Niagara.

“Do you really want to see it?” Michael asks.

“Well, yes. But…”

Fort Niagara

I analyze time and distance and the possibility of seeing all three, and with Google’s assurance we can see all three, we head north toward Buffalo.

Arriving at 3 pm, we find that the lighthouse is just a tiny piece of a much larger pie. Unfortunately, we can’t figure out how to stretch time even to have a slice or two of what remains.  We grab brochures and make promises to ourselves and the guide, and the fort.

More Lighthouses

Thanks to our morning adventures, we have stayed off major highways, except for the trip through Buffalo. Driving to our next destination, we find that we are the only car on the road—heaven.  I love this area of the country.  Everything is so neat, so pristine, so peaceful, so much like my stereotypical idea of home and holidays. It is a Norman Rockwell kind of place.  There are farms and fields and flowers and silos and stolen views of a blue trail of water that is the Erie.

I begin to plant the tiny seed of an idea of staying off major highways for the next six weeks. I’ll have to see if it grows.