Fingered Lakes
Had to burn some vacation time, so we executed a multi-day travel extravaganza through another part of the US we've never been. The New York Finger Lakes.
Let's get this out of the way immediately. I didn't know what to expect from the Finger Lakes. Muffin did all the planning. I'm the chauffeur. Although I wasn't necessarily expecting the Hamptons, I definitely wasn't expecting some of the most beautiful yet depressing American countrysides I've ever witnessed.
Quick aside, all the people we interacted with from Finger Lakes region were absolutely LOVELY at surface level. I can't speak for their beliefs, politics, or preferences, but nothing but kindness directed toward us. Could have been different if my skin was a shade or two darker, because let me tell you, it's white up there. So us being crackers wearing race car shirts carrying a bag of dirty laundry with us may have been the unspoken secret handshake to kindness. Who knows? They were just nice. Some too nice, but a tale for another day.
Houses. Land. Houses with land. Grandiose Victorian-era styled houses with acres of land. Some collapsed, burned out, generally uninhabitable by humans. Those remaining upright are either well maintained like any home owned by someone with an ounce of pride in their investment or suspiciously not condemned three story homes aesthetically inspired by real witches (think Vvitch) actively being reclaimed by the Earth. I mean, straight outta every cliche horror flick kind of cliche spooky houses. Undoubtedly haunted to the fuckin' gills.
But, like, there were cars parked at these homes. Real indicators that living human beings, in fact, reside within these doomiciles. I couldn't. Muffin claimed the same. So we narrowed it down to the criminally insane and/or cognitively challenged left behind in life with a paid roof and zero life skills, living off some government cheese. Fucking frightening, unbelievable, and more than anything, sad.
Some of these towns were straight out of every post apocalyptic zombie tale ever penned. Capitalism has failed the area. Metropolitan areas have been reduced to abandoned cement cemeteries, massive mausoleums full of retail tombs. The Claire's, Holister's, beloved Auntie Anne's. All buried within. Fenced off as if it's closing hours, but instead, an always visible time capsule of what could still be once was. Dead malls. Suicidal shopping strips. Restaurants reduced to ruins. A lone Ruby Tuesdays, barely surviving, attached to a cancerous mall. Department stores rotting from inside, their proud names removed, leaving behind a forever stain. Big K.
Weird. Surreal. Sad. Is this America?
This is America.
If outdoorsing is your thing, you'll love the Fingers. Water looming everywhere. The Susquehanna? Inescapable. Mosquitos? Very. Predatory wildlife? Check. Save yourself a headache and just skip your is it dead or asleep regional Zoo experience and just drive a few hours toward a landlocked body of water. Guaranteed to see something Zoological in its natural environment. The vast majority of folks up there seem to be 'squatch believers based on the prolific presence of 'squatch decor adorning a little bit of everything. We didn't see any of them, but we did see a bald eagle menacingly fly over our vehicle only to casually land in a small, climbable-ass tree. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. We've all seen bald eagles in their natural habitats on some screen at some point in our lives. Like the videos of wild bald eagles walking around Alaskan towns, bullying residents like a bunch of dicks. But to see it first hand, a massive flying murder machine landing on the lowest branch of an everyday tree? Absolutely fucking terrifying.
Our Finger existence revolved around tickets to the May 10th Watkins Glen NASCAR cup race. In our pursuit to see a race at every actively raced track, Watkins Glen would mark our first road course. It was fantastic.
The action isn't as non-stop as an oval. Especially not a small oval. There's literally breaks in the action lasting nearly a minute long as the cars navigate the sections of the track you can only see through the giant LED panel array opposite the stands in corner 9. It provides your sensory system with some respite. Instead of being pummeled by a relatively constant wave of sound and bright flashing colors quickly moving from your left to right, you have plenty of time between each dopamine hit to take in your surroundings, have an observational conversation, listen to the broadcast. It's not a better or worse experience, just different. A good different. A nice change of pace.
Race was fantastic. Our drivers had rough days (poor Bubba). The Glen facilities were as well maintained as possible, especially after a weekend of races AND rain. It was a mudshow all around the track, where most green areas within the track's boundaries were reduced to thick mud ponds. We wore white/blue checkerboard shoes because of course we did. Vendors were slim picking, and sorely missed. Lines for most everything were perpetually long, as there simply weren't enough vendors to supply the masses. The lines we happened into did move smoothly, so no real complaints there.
The best part of the race was not getting stuck in one of the many parking fields. Not stuck like, "Ah, fuck dis traffic." Stuck like "The fucking car is sinking into the land!" stuck. Sedans, sport coups, buried up to the bottom door sill in mud, endlessly spinning tires in a confused panic. Truck bros in their miniature Grave Diggers and oversized DUI magnets. Stuck, then in trying to unstick, more stuck. Farm equipment deployed to retrieve vehicles from the deepening sludge. Most people wearing the indication they were victims of the 2026 Watkins Glen cup race mud lots. A heavy spattering of opaque gray mud dots, clearly placed all upon them from the spinning tires of the driver as they attempted to push the vehicle from disaster. Our RAV4 made every other vehicle look like dummies. Don't ask me why, I just used the features of the vehicle provided, but we drove through the two most notoriously dangerous of the day without any issues. Sport, Trail. Settings I set for the endeavor. Gave me a much needed boost of confidence as a child-free man in his mid 40s rockin' a widely considered family vehicle.
We followed the move of a handful of other drivers and said fuck it, this is a parking lot entrance now, therefor making this a parking area. Right alongside the road, no fencing, no restrictions aside from a ditch separating the road from the field. Noticing the entrance to our little guerilla lot was wider than it needed to be, I elected to not get stuck 15 yards into the new lot, and instead saddled-up just to the right of the entrance, giving us the future pleasure of driving straight ahead on flat Earth to join traffic when the time came rather than negotiate the ditch. Everybody wins.
At the race, Mission, the primary race sponsor for the Mission 400, handed out individual sized bags of their tortilla chips. Allegedly, they do this annually. Stock car racing all weekend. Primary sponsor of the cup race. Bags of chips racing themed. Chips have recognizable racing shape. Motorcycles.
#travel #blog #FingerLakes