For a few years I found myself spending a lot of time in Ithaca, New York. If you love waterfalls and a relaxed college town vibe, it’s the place to be. I forgot how much I missed it until I returned.
My connection to Ithaca runs deep. My favorite Navy pilot went to the big red school on the hill. My daughter went to the big blue school on the other hill. I have a long affinity with the Moosewood restaurant through the cookbooks and [not nearly enough] visits to eat there. There are other connections but you get the point.
It’s those waterfalls that root deeply into your soul and never release you. My favorite Navy pilot used to tell me that Cascadilla Gorge was his favorite, and I feel the same way. It doesn’t have the jaw-dropping impact of Ithaca Falls or the height of Taughannock Falls, but it’s a more intimate experience—especially early in the morning when you have the place mostly to yourself.
I was with my favorite Navy pilot last the last time he visited Ithaca, to see his granddaughter and see the campus again. We saw some waterfalls then too, but not Cascadilla Gorge. It was beyond his ability at that point in his life. I thought about him as I descended back down along the rushing waters. We are only here and healthy for such a brief time. Will I ever visit this gorge again myself? Who knows what the future brings? But I am here, now, when it matters most.
When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon – do not fear them: You will never find such as these on your path, if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine emotion touches your spirit and your body. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter, if you do not carry them within your soul, if your soul does not set them up before you.
Pray that the road is long. That the summer mornings are many, when, with such pleasure, with such joy you will enter ports seen for the first time; stop at Phoenician markets, and purchase fine merchandise, mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and sensual perfumes of all kinds, as many sensual perfumes as you can; visit many Egyptian cities, to learn and learn from scholars.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind. To arrive there is your ultimate goal. But do not hurry the voyage at all. It is better to let it last for many years; and to anchor at the island when you are old, rich with all you have gained on the way, not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage. Without her you would have never set out on the road. She has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you. Wise as you have become, with so much experience, you must already have understood what Ithaca means. — Constantine P. Cavafy, Ithaca
There’s a special place in my heart for The Odyssey. It captured my attention in early adulthood and held on tight. I might have sailed away to the Greek Isles in my own odyssey had things gone differently. And so having a heart so set on travel doesn’t surprise me very much at all. In fact, what surprises me is the amount of time I’ve spent in my home port. When you find home you know it, even when the road calls you like a Siren.
I didn’t have the heart to break up Cavafy’s poem, and offer it here in its entirety for my fellow travelers to celebrate (as travelers do). Perhaps the flow may seem off, as if the entire voyage is top-heavy, but so be it. We must break the rules now and then in our lives if we hope to see what’s outside our box.
And that’s the point, isn’t it? To see what’s far outside of our comfortable box, and to live to tell the tale. The box will be there when we get back. But we’ll be different, won’t we? We’ll witness things we’d only believed as myth, and things we’d never known existed but will stay with us forever for having been there. We’ll carry the sparkle of faraway places in our hearts that escapes from our eyes as we tell of places we’ve been. Similar sparks escape from the eyes of fellow voyagers who have been to the same place, and a special fire burns brightly when the sparks are shared in other ports of call. There’s a club of understanding that is earned living dreams and encountering what is carried in our souls. If that sounds ridiculous, well, check your sparks for ignition. You may need a tune-up.
Do you understand what Ithaca means? If not, give it time and room to grow. You’ll find it far from the comfortable routine, just waiting for you to go there. You just might come across me on that journey too, chasing Ithaca and learning more about this voyage every day. So tell me, do you see it now? Isn’t it beautiful?
Cleveland has a reputation for being all concrete and manufacturing plants on the edge of the lake. The “mistake by the lake” as some would say. But Cleveland is also ringed with an extensive park system, the “emerald necklace” that offers access to beautiful places nearby. All you’ve got to do is seek it out. I’ve made it a practice to be a seeker of beautiful places wherever I go, and this trip to Cleveland wasn’t going to be an exception.
I stayed in a hotel in Independence, largely because it was between places I was going to for business meetings. What I learned quickly was it was also in close proximity to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. There’s a waterfall in this park, Brandywine Falls, that is supposed to be stunning. I didn’t have the time to visit Brandywine on this trip, but will save it for the next one. Instead I looked at smaller falls within 15 minutes or the hotel and found two very close to each other in the Bedford Reservation: Great Falls at Tinker Creek and Bridal Veil Falls. I silently plotted a visit, and when Thursday morning remained open I had my opportunity to see them both.
Waze told me I was 16 minutes from Great Falls, and I made my way there first. It was pouring out, reminding me of visiting the Isle of Skye exactly a year ago with the constant soaking raw rain. And here I was again, chasing beautiful places in soaking rain. I stopped at a store and bought a $6 umbrella that felt like it would fold in half in the first gust of wind. It turned out to be just enough for me to ignore the rain and focus on the task at hand: finding the falls.
Waze sent me to the viaduct instead, and after walking on the paths down to the edge of a long drop to the river I realized this wasn’t the place. Getting my bearings using the park maps I figured out where Waze had steered me wrong and saw that I was actually closer to Bridal Veil Falls and went there next. The benefit of the steady rain was I was joyfully socially isolated. No COVID in the park today, thank you. The mask remained in my pocket. The drawback was nobody to offer recommendations, but heck, I’m an explorer at heart. Go explore.
Bridal Veil Falls was more obvious, with a parking lot and good signage. There’s a boardwalk that helps you navigate the walk down to the falls easily. This makes this site good for all ages. With the stairs it would be challenging for wheelchairs to get all the way to the falls using this path, but there seemed to be an alternative on the other side of the river that might have worked. Bridal Veil Falls was roaring from all the rain, and reminded me of similar falls I’ve visited in Ithaca, New York.
Bridal Veil Falls, roaring on this wet dayDeerlick Creek above the falls. Wooden bridge and pathway up to the road.
Checking my watch I knew I had time to visit the elusive Great Falls, and reviewed the map again. The problem wasn’t Waze, it was the operator who put Viaduct Park in as the destination instead of Great Falls. As is almost always the case, it was user error and I was the user. A quick drive got me where I needed to be and I took my cheap umbrella for another walk.
If Bridal Veil Falls is deep in the park, Great Falls is on the edge of town. Cleveland Metroparks offers this description of the site: “Great Falls of Tinkers Creek shows the natural beauty and historic relevance to the development of Bedford“. Hint: “historic” and “development”. The falls are beautiful but the site isn’t pristine. There are ruins of an old grist mill on the edge of the falls and graffiti from some misguided soul that ruined a beautiful photo op. Just downstream is a large stone viaduct that used to support trains. These falls had a vibe closer to the Pawtucket Falls in Lowell, Massachusetts. Still beautiful, but more… “industrial revolution“. The rain ensured I had it all to myself, and I was careful with my footing on the wet leaves and mud. Didn’t want to be that tourist who slid into the river with his cheap umbrella and iPhone.
And with that it was time to drive to the airport, only 30 minutes away, but seemingly much further. That’s the benefit of parks like this; you can be deep into natural beauty in minutes. And as I drove past a sea of concrete and steel and asphalt on my way to the rental car drop-off, I was grateful for the reprieve. You never know what the world offers just around the corner until you go look for it.
Great Falls of Tinker’s CreekStone Viaduct with the modern railroad bridge just downstream from Great Falls
“As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.” – John Muir
What is it about waterfalls? Is it the sound of falling water hitting hard surfaces and drowning out the rest of the world? The stunning visual dance of water and light that often creates rainbows in the mist? Or is it the lure of something bigger than ourselves? Something timeless and enchanting all at once? I’m not really sure I can answer my own question. But I’m drawn to waterfalls just the same.
We made a point of visiting two waterfalls during a brief visit to Ithaca, New York. We’ve been to both before, and wanted to see how they looked in a different season. It turns out that the first attempt was thwarted by the closure of the Cascadilla Gorge Trail because of some damage sustained to the trail that prompted officials to deem it dangerous for the public. I suspect we would have done just fine on it, but we honored the signs and temporary fencing the City of Ithaca had barring access to the trail.
Thankfully, the second option was open and available, and we were able to spend a bit of time contemplating Ithaca Falls. Strangely, there were very few people about. I always wonder about that when visiting places like Ithaca Falls. Why aren’t there more people there? But we were grateful for the relative solitude afforded to us, and the opportunity to see a place like this one more time. I’m not sure how many times I’ll get back to the many waterfalls of Ithaca; I hope many more. Why would you visit a place and knowing what lingers nearby, not take a moment for awe and reflection? It really doesn’t matter why we love it, only that we’re able to spend moments of wonder with falling waters.
Walking this morning on Cape Cod I saw turkey tracks in the snow. The funny thing about turkey tracks is they look like arrows, pointing this way and that, as if to tell you to Go here! No, go there! Turkey walk in circles looking for food, and their tracks point you, if you tried to follow the “arrows”, towards the same madness. It’s a wonder of confusion and I smiled at the sight of it.
I’m glad I walked early, because overnight snow didn’t stand a chance on the edge of Buzzards Bay, where the ocean moderates temperatures as easily as it moderates moods. Looking at the temperatures in New Hampshire, there was a 21 degree difference between the hills up north and Cape Cod. 100 miles and 200 feet of elevation make a big difference between order and chaos when you’re talking snow.
If turkey tracks are scattered madness, the surf line offers a measure of predictability, for even on its own erratic path it still runs roughly parallel. The surf line finds its own path, curving and cutting this way and that based on the push of the swell, the contour of the sand and the strength of the breeze. The funny thing about the surf line is that it looks similar whether you’re up close on a quiet pre-dawn beach on Buzzards Bay or flying 1000 feet above the New Hampshire coast in a Piper Cub. Up close very different. Add the right distance and the mind tricks you.
We’re incredibly lucky now, with these great leaps across time and space. Anything is possible, really, in our timelines in this time. Yesterday I woke up in Ithaca, New York, watched a college basketball game in Rhode Island, and went to sleep on Cape Cod. This morning I walked on the beach and this afternoon I was shoveling snow back in the hills of New Hampshire. I could easily be in London or California or some other place for breakfast tomorrow morning if time, money and responsibilities allowed. Quick leaps between here and there are possible, which makes the world a magical place.
I run into a lot of people who march along a pretty straight line in their lives, not straying far from home, going to the same job every day, taking the same vacation to the same place for a week or two every year. I’ve tried that line, and it’s not me. Granted, you don’t want to be a turkey moving about in circles with no rhyme or reason to where you’re going. But what’s the fun in traveling a straight path from here to there? Don’t be a turkey, play along the surf line! Follow your own path as it meanders along, but with an eye towards the destination. You’ll still get from here to there, but the path will be a lot more interesting.
I’ve never regretted a morning when I got up early and got outside to exercise. Today I’m moving Emily home from college so that meant an Ithaca waterfall walk. Different hotel than last time I was here, but fortunately there’s a stunning waterfall seemingly on every corner in this town. Five minutes walk from the downtown Hilton Garden Inn is the lovely Cascadilla Gorge Trail. As with most gorges, this one has plenty of water.The lower part of the Cascadilla Gorge Trail begins Treman Triangle, a small triangular shaped park named after Robert H. Treman, a local gentleman and successful Ithaca businessman who, along with fellow trustee Henry Woodward Sackett donated this Gorge to Cornell University. But Treman didn’t stop with this gorge. He also donated the land around Buttermilk Falls State Park and the park named after him, the Robert H. Treman State Park. This is the type of wealthy guy I admire: make a lot of money and then do something good with it. These were his time capsules, preserving the things he loved about Ithaca so that they might be enjoyed by generations long after he’s gone. He’s remembered far more for the land he donated than for his success in business. Isn’t that a greater success story than what he had accumulated in his bank account?
I started writing today’s post thinking I was writing about Cascadilla Gorge and my observations about it. It’s truly beautiful, and walking alone through it at 6:15 AM I felt like I was up in the Adirondacks somewhere, not walking up from downtown Ithaca to the Cornell campus. My step-father went to Cornell and Cascadilla Gorge has a special place in his heart. Walking it while the city slept I could feel it. There’s magic in solitude, especially magnified in a spot like this. Lingering here felt appropriate, but I was approaching this as exercise and aside from taking some pictures along the way I tried to keep moving. As with most places I try to know something about where I am, which led me to a greater appreciation for Robert Treman.
This morning I woke up and thought I’d tackle one more waterfall before I shut down this grand tour of Ithaca area waterfalls. I drove 7 minutes up the road to Lick Brook Falls at Buttermilk Falls State Park. This is a lovely and quiet spot, especially on a Sunday morning with icy, muddy trails to contend with. So on went the micro spikes over the boots. I’ve worn that combo a lot this weekend and never was it more needed than on this hike. Steep downhill stretches were a sheet of ice, all the more treacherous because if you slipped you’d likely end up in the fast moving stream.
So I cautiously made my way down the icy trail. I’m not timid, but I do have a fondness for living. And not getting hurt again. After all I was flat on my back cracking a rib just two weeks ago. I’m getting older but I still remember THAT. I also did the mental math – I was one of two cars parked the trail head, and what were the odds of me being discovered should I slip? Not good.
No sooner had I said that than a trail runner came dashing down the hill behind me. It was his fourth loop of the trail I was hiking down. And yes, he was wearing micro spikes, but he was also hustling down the steep icy path I’d just descended. And he was wearing shorts.
I told him that he was a better man than me, got a quick download on the trail ahead and wished him God speed. He reminded me of the thru hikers we saw hiking through Mahoosuc Notch. I’d be moving at what I thought was a decent speed only to have those thru hikers blow right by me. All you can do is salute them and move along at the speed that makes sense for you. And that’s exactly what I did with that trail runner.
Lick Brook Falls is really three falls. The from the bottom to the top, Lower Lick Brook Fall drops 25 feet, moving up the trail, Middle Lick Brook Falls drops 47 feet and then Upper Lick Brook Falls drops 93 feet. This third drop ranks Lick Brook Falls as the fifth highest waterfall in the Ithaca area. It’s similar to Lucifer Falls for its relative isolation compared to the other falls on the top five, but unique for its three drops. This one reminded me a lot of hiking along a mountain stream in the White Mountains. The hemlock, oaks and maple trees certainly helped with that impression.
Ultimately I did three more waterfalls today, but I’ll save those for another post or two. If I’d just done this one today I’d have called today a victory. There are some incredible stories that came out of the others, and they’re worth a post of their own. Hiking the “blue” Lick Brook Trail in February paid off with plenty of water, ice sculptures and isolation. It occurred to me more than once on the trail that there was nowhere else I’d rather have been at that moment.
According to the Sweedler adn Thayer Preserves website, this area was protected from development when “Moss Sweedler purchased the “Lost Gorge” in the 1970s, and understanding its uniqueness, decided to leave it to the Finger Lakes Land Trust in his will. But in 1989, the Land Trust let the Sweedlers know that Lick Brook was a top priority for protection, recognizing the development pressure in the area and the site’s exceptional beauty, and in 1993 the Land Trust purchased 128 acres from Moss and Kristin Sweedler at a bargain price, creating the Sweedler Preserve at Lick Brook. Since then the preserve has provided public access to one of the most remarkable waterfalls and gorges in the area.”
I found myself with an afternoon to myself today while in Ithaca, New York. Ithaca is a great college town with plenty of restaurants to choose from and enough shopping to occupy those who are inclined to spend their lives in retail environments. I’m not one of those people.
I decided to make the waterfall circuit. Now, Ithaca has a lot of waterfalls and I only had half a day of daylight to work with, so I tried to choose wisely. You can’t go to Ithaca and not view Ithaca Falls, so that was on the list. But so was Buttermilk Falls, Taughanock Falls and Lucifer Falls.
I started with Taughanock Falls. This was the furthest away but one I really wanted to hike to. I drove out to Ulysses and changed into my winter boots for the hike. I’d contemplated this hike before I drove out here so I also put on micro spikes, as I expected the conditions to be icy. My expectations were met. The path to the falls was about a mile long with a mix of ice, snow and mud. I passed 50 or 60 people on this walk and I was the only one wearing micro spikes. A few people pointed to them and said they wished they’d thought to bring them too. Taughanock Falls on a mild February day were spectacular.
Next on the list was Buttermilk Falls. This one was right down the street from my hotel and easy to get to. No hiking boots required, just park and walk over to take a picture. Buttermilk Falls are beautiful, but there’s no real effort required to see them. I like to earn my scenic vistas.
Third waterfall was Ithaca Falls. This is another easy one right off the road. In fact, you can technically see the falls from the road, which is how we first discovered them. But I put on my boots again and walked out to the falls for another picture. Quick walk but well worth the effort to get closer.
Finally, I drove out to the Robert H. Treman State Park to see Lucifer Falls. Waze sent me past the state park parking lot to the service road on the other side of the Enfield Creek. This ended up working out really well as there was a nice path down to the creek on that side. This was another hike where micro spikes were invaluable. I’m not sure I would have chanced the hike without them. This hike reminded me of New Hampshire. There were hemlock trees shading the path, and with the icy conditions I was one of the only people out on the trail.
There’s a bumper sticker available in many of the stores in Ithaca that says “Ithaca is Gorges”. It’s a nice play on words of course, but right on point; Ithaca’s Gorges are indeed gorgeous. When you get off the city streets Ithaca offers plenty of views that are well worth the effort to find. I’m glad to have had the opportunity to see these four waterfalls today. I’ll definitely go back to each one again, and especially Lucifer Falls.
I seek out waterfalls. And sunrises… and sunsets… and just about anything else that makes magic out of the ordinary. If I’m in a place with something to see then, well, I’m going to try to see it. I’ve chased down steamed cheeseburgers in Connecticut, lighthouses in Maine, Heady Topper in Vermont and driven halfway across Portugal to see the end of the world. Like Thoreau, I want to live deep and suck the marrow out of life.
Today I found myself hunkered down in a hotel in Ithaca, NY. For a snow town they do a lousy job plowing this city during a storm. Ithaca is known for its hard winters, its hills, and its gorges. And of course the gorges are where you’ll find the waterfalls. Like this one, Cascadilla Falls, from the creek that bears the same name.
It’s no wonder Cornell chose this location for his land grant college. Ithaca is unique and interesting, and largely undiscovered for me. Driving around gives you a sense of this, but there’s no substitute for walking. Even if walking today meant shuffling through eight inches of snow on uncleared sidewalks. Sometimes living deeply is more work than at other times.
There’s never enough time for these detours from the routine. But I manage to squeeze in a few memorable moments each week. I’ve grown to love Upstate New York over the years. It’s more than cows and corn at 70 MPH on I-90. I hope to convey that in future posts.
The lower part of the Cascadilla Gorge Trail begins Treman Triangle, a small triangular shaped park named after Robert H. Treman, a local gentleman and successful Ithaca businessman who, along with fellow trustee Henry Woodward Sackett donated this Gorge to Cornell University. But Treman didn’t stop with this gorge. He also donated the land around Buttermilk Falls State Park and the park named after him, the Robert H. Treman State Park. This is the type of wealthy guy I admire: make a lot of money and then do something good with it. These were his time capsules, preserving the things he loved about Ithaca so that they might be enjoyed by generations long after he’s gone. He’s remembered far more for the land he donated than for his success in business. Isn’t that a greater success story than what he had accumulated in his bank account?
