Due to a massive slice of luck, my cousin's family (the Syratts) are also in the New York region on holiday from London (England). They are staying in a house on Seneca lake which, if you ignore the sloth-like speed limits, is just over an hours drive from Rochester (why in a country with so much space do they build two lane highways and make people drive at 65 mph?). I would like to announce to Mr. Policeman that the drive took me exactly 1 hour and 55 min, as at no point did I exceed the speed required by state law.
Whitney was working all day and so I embarked on my own, deciding to allow my music player to be the DJ for the journey.
Considering he had only music I had chosen to work with, I thought he did a suprisingly poor job, and after skipping through some Coldplay, Justin Timberlake and Michael Bolton (how, oh how did Bolton sneak his way on there?) I decided to take over and let Neil Young keep me company for the journey. The first half of the drive on Highway 90 was uneventful, which is how I like highway driving to be. The drive around Lake Seneca was fantastic with breathtaking views on my left all the way to Dundee, where the Syratts are staying.
I had a thoroughly enjoyable day canoeing on the lake, eating, and sampling a few of the local ales (I would like to point out that I don't condone drinking and driving and I kept well within the limits and didn't drive again for 5 hours. Disclaimer over.) and listened to Pete describe the ales that I couldn't try, partly because I was driving and partly because Pete had drunk them all.
The view of the lake from their house was stunning and I felt a little jealous knowing they get to wake up to that panorama every day. The beach was made of shale
and the stones were incredibly sharp (Josh has a sliced toe to prove it and my finger is much the same) and the lake itself is full of weeds which make swimming a challenge. The canoe however sailed effortlessly over this and out into the clear deep waters. I could have stayed out on that canoe for hours, although considering the fuchsia colour of my shoulders today, I am glad I didn't.
There was a slightly scary element of my trip to the lake, and that was the large wasp's nest in the shed on the pier, only 5 feet away from where we were sitting. I admit to being a bit of a nancy when it comes to wasps, perhaps because I suspect I am allergic to their stings (my hand swelled the last time I was stung when I was 12), but mostly because wasps are foul, creepy little creatures and the very thought of them makes my skin crawl. I used my zoom lens to get this photograph, and even that was a little too close for my comfort
(apologies to those of a similar disposition). As you would expect, there was a fair amount of wildlife at the lake, and I managed to snap the small butterfly that landed on Pete's finger as well as the grasshopper or cricket on the wooden stump. If I'm honest the grasshopper wasn't too challenging on account of it being quite dead, but a nice shot (if a little macabre) never the less.
Thank you Syratts for a fantastic day in the sun.
