Rural Roads

story and photos by Bill Banaszewski 

For as long as I can remember, the natural world fascinated me. When I was 5 years old, I played in a patch of sand under a large oak tree in our yard – I called it “Billy’s Pond.” Sitting at the edge of the pond with a stick-and-string fishing pole, I pretended to catch enormous fish. After telling my parents about my catches, they began to worry about my all too creative imagination.  

Years later, we moved close to a park which was my new sanctuary – fields, wetlands and a forest with dirt roads. I caught frogs and salamanders with friends. My first real fish were large carps caught with hook, line and nets. I explored the forest and the fields alone.  

As I grew up, I dreamed about what my future would bring. Was there such a job where I could both learn, fish and teach about the natural world?  

There was. After graduating college, the newly established Finger Lakes Community College hired me to teach and to develop a new environmental conservation degree program. I was in heaven. 

Starting my new job, I reminisced to the days I would say to myself, “I never met a forest, stream or country road I didn’t like.” Now more than 20 years into retirement, I am still drawn like a magnet to these environments.  

My teaching position started in 1968, and I moved with my young family to Naples just south of Canandaigua Lake. It was no accident that our home was surrounded by forests, streams, lakes and rural roads, all of which would require exploring in my free time and on field trips with my students. 

Now, back to “I never met a rural road I didn’t like.” One beautiful morning, an early spring thaw awoke the earth. It was time to explore a dirt road near my home. Against the best advice of my wife, off I went. 

Ignoring that the thaw was quickly turning the road to mud, I motored on, and up the hill I went.  In no time the car was bogged down so deep in the mud that I couldn’t open the car door. Mind you, I wasn’t driving a four-wheel drive truck but foolishly a totally ill-equipped Corvair. My short-lived adventure was over. I climbed out the window, dropped deep into the mud and trudged down the hill back to my house to call for a tow. 

The tow truck driver suggested we wait a few days until a predicted freeze would harden the road. So, two days later as we were towing the Corvair, he said, “I thought college professors were supposed to be smart.” My best retort was I’m just an instructor not a professor yet. After that episode, I admit that I had found one rural road that I really didn’t like. But I wasn’t going to let one muddy road interfere with my calling to explore the back roads of the Finger Lakes.  

My kind of rural road passes through sparsely populated areas with no commercial development and is unpaved with no traffic, no stop lights and few stop signs. Inspired by my memories of some of the country roads I had explored years ago, I re-visited some of them. My first stop was the “old stuck-in-the-mud” road, now completely paved. Next stop was Maxfield Road where I had lived for nearly 30 years; it, too, is paved. 

One of my favorite roads was Monkey Run, a rather rugged, narrow unpaved road that meandered from Naples through hardwood forests south of Honeoye, Canadice and Hemlock lakes, eventually ending near the old Conesus Inn on the east side of Conesus Lake. Even though the road was rugged, it was well worth the trip to enjoy the inn’s renowned prime rib dinners.  It took me awhile to find Monkey Run again. No, it’s not paved, but now it’s a private road, restricting access to the property and its hundreds of forested acres. I can’t blame the owners for wanting the land for their own enjoyment. 

Driving along the winding, curving country roads of the Finger Lakes reminds me of the days I fished meandering streams. One bend after another prevented me from seeing much ahead. Of course, I had to keep going a little further just in case there would be a large hole full of brown trout, just waiting to take a juicy night crawler. 

Some roads are undulating ribbons with dips and ridges that can also hide what is just ahead.  Coming to the top of one dip, a doe and three fawns were crossing the road right in front of me. It was a close call!  

I have great memories of riding along a roller coaster road. “Over the river and though the woods to Grandmother’s house we go” at Thanksgiving.  If the weather was good, my dad would take a little side trip on undulating country roads. He would accelerate, and the car would go airborne. I would get a queasy feeling in my stomach, even as we all yelled, “Do it again!” My mom warned him that his shenanigans would spoil our Thanksgiving celebration, but they never prevented me from having seconds or even thirds. 

Driving down an unfamiliar road back in the boonies, one sharp turn followed another. Breaking out of the shaded woods into sunlight, a fawn stood in perfect light along the roadside. The nervous but curious deer kept rotating its ears and head, raising and twitching its tail, and stomping a back and front foot at the same time. After nearly five minutes, it bounded off. 

I followed along that winding road and again broke into sunlight; green, ripening cornfields covered acres and acres as far as the eye could see. Further on down the road, another scene unfolded that I won’t easily forget. Massive wind turbines, some turning slowly others silent, towered over fields of wheat, clover, potatoes and corn in every direction. 

Abandoned homes, barns and cabins are a common sight. Behind each of these forgotten buildings is a story. I can’t help but wonder why they were deserted. Was it poor health, old age, a tragedy, harsh weather or the inability to handle the hardships of rural life? It is well documented that starting in the late 1800s and continuing into the 1950s the older children of farm families moved into towns seeking an opportunity for better wages. With their children gone and no longer able to handle working from dawn to dusk, six or seven days a week, the older folks packed their meager belongings and headed to town for a simpler life. In no time the forces of nature – wind, rain, ice and snow, as well as the invasion of vegetation – caused the buildings to crumble into the ground and eventually decay. Around the abandoned properties, old axes left in tree stumps, scattered pots and pans and old shoes are the only evidence I found that people once lived there. 

Nevertheless, Finger Lakes family farms continue to operate even in the middle of nowhere. I came upon several farmers during my travels, and the ones I spoke with were very friendly and seemed content with their rural life. 

I have encountered many attention-grabbing discoveries over the years while traveling rural roads. One was an old road sign nailed to a tree, reading “Deusenbery Road.” As years have gone by, that old sign is being swallowed by the tree. It’s likely that a family named Deusenbery lived on that road at one time. Once I came upon an electric coffeepot, full and plugged in, hanging from a roadside telephone pole!  I’m not sure it works any more or if it ever did, but clearly someone was hospitable and has a good sense of humor. Bring your own cup.

No matter the season, there are some very special scenes to be found on rural roads throughout the Finger Lakes Region. Pick up a good map, don’t rely on GPS and turn off the highway onto a dirt road. One last bit of advice: If you come upon a sign saying “Seasonal Road,” listen to your wife!