by Karon -

A Sweet Stop in Rochester: The Charlotte–Genesee Lighthouse & Savoia Bakery

As I continued my journey south through New York, I made a short stop in Rochester — a visit that beautifully blended history and local flavor. My first stop was the Charlotte–Genesee Lighthouse, standing where the Genesee River meets Lake Ontario in the Charlotte neighborhood.

Built in 1822, this sturdy stone lighthouse is the oldest active lighthouse on the U.S. side of Lake Ontario. It’s remarkable to think it has been guiding ships for more than two centuries — first lit by whale oil lamps, later upgraded to a Fresnel lens in 1853. Climbing its 42 steps to the lantern room, I paused to imagine sailors depending on that steady light. From the top, the panoramic view of the lake and harbor was breathtaking — calm, expansive, and quietly powerful.

The lighthouse still stands thanks to the dedication of the local community. In 1965, a letter-writing campaign saved it from demolition, and today it’s lovingly cared for by the Charlotte–Genesee Lighthouse Historical Society. It remains open to visitors — a beautiful reminder of Rochester’s maritime past and the importance of preservation.

Before leaving town, I stopped at Savoia Bakery, a Rochester favorite since 1929 — and a spot recommended by Corey. The moment I walked in, the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked pastries and Italian sweetness. The glass cases were filled with colorful, old-world treats, each one as beautiful as it was delicious. I picked out a few pastries for the road — soft, buttery, and just the right touch of comfort for a traveler heading south.

It was a quick visit, but one that captured so much of what I love about travel — a glimpse of history, a taste of local tradition, and a reminder of how small stops can leave lasting memories. 🌊🥐

— Kari

by Karon -

Ellicottville – A Hidden Gem in the Hills

I only spent one night in Ellicottville on my drive south from Sackets Harbor, but it left a lasting impression. Tucked into the rolling hills of western New York, this little town feels like something out of a storybook — charming streets, historic buildings, and a comforting small-town warmth that makes you slow down without even realizing it.

Walking through the downtown, I was struck by how everything felt intentionally quaint yet lived-in at the same time. Cozy cafés, little boutiques, and the soft bustle of locals going about their day created a rhythm that was both calming and inviting. I could easily imagine spending hours wandering these streets, discovering tucked-away corners and enjoying the subtle details that make a place feel like home.

The surrounding hills hint at adventure in every season. I only glimpsed them briefly, but I could see why people come here to hike, bike, ski, and snowboard. There’s a sense of possibility in the air — whether it’s a crisp autumn morning or a sparkling winter day, these hills are calling for exploration.

Even though my visit was short, I could already picture returning for some of the town’s seasonal events — the Fall Festival, the Ellicottville Championship Rodeo, or the magical “Christmas in Ellicottville,” when the streets glow with lights and the scent of pine and hot cocoa drifts through the air. I’d love to be here for one of those celebrations someday, to experience the town’s joy and community energy fully.

In that single night, Ellicottville managed to leave its mark — a combination of charm, adventure, and quiet reflection that stays with you. It’s a town that makes you want to linger, to return, and to explore every little corner. I may have only touched the surface, but I know there’s so much more waiting, and I can’t wait to see it again. 🌿

by Karon -

Three Beaches Within 25 Minutes of Sackets Harbor

Beaches are definitely one of my happy places. I love to walk in the sand — to feel it shift beneath my feet and connect me to the earth. On coastal beaches, I’ve always loved looking for seashells and driftwood. But here, along the lakeside shores near Sackets Harbor, I searched for heart-shaped rocks instead. I only found one, but the walks were peaceful and grounding — the kind that clear your mind and fill your soul.

During my stay, I visited three beaches within about twenty-five minutes of Sackets Harbor. The days were cool and sunny, perfect for slow walks and quiet reflection. Each beach had soft sand and gentle waves, with beautiful sand dunes edging the shoreline. The dunes were covered with tall grasses and old wooden fences that swayed and creaked softly in the breeze. Behind them, trees painted in shades of gold and amber framed the horizon, their autumn colors glowing in the afternoon light.

One beach had a long line of rocks brought in to prevent erosion — a rugged but beautiful contrast to the smooth sand. A few of the beaches had benches along a path that ran parallel to the water, inviting you to sit, listen to the waves, and watch the light dance across the lake. In some spots, the forest reached all the way to the beach, where roots tangled near the sand and the air smelled faintly of pine.

And then there were the seagulls — another surprise. I had always thought gulls belonged to the sea, yet here they were, soaring over Lake Ontario, their calls echoing softly across the water.

Walking barefoot in the cool sand felt like coming home to myself — a simple act of grounding, of reconnecting with the rhythms of the earth. Even though I only found one heart rock, I left each beach with a sense of calm and gratitude. These quiet, lakeside moments reminded me how peace can be found anywhere — sometimes just twenty-five minutes away.

— Kari

by Karon -

Lighthouses of the Great Lakes: Following the Light North

It was probably a couple of years before this trip that I first realized there were lighthouses on the Great Lakes. Growing up in Texas, lighthouses belonged to oceans and far-off coasts — not to the freshwater shores of the north. But now, with the road stretching out ahead of me and a wide lake shimmering on the horizon, I’ve learned that light finds its place anywhere it’s needed.

On the last stretch of my drive — after leaving Erie, Pennsylvania, and before reaching Sackets Harbor — I decided to stop at a few of these lighthouses and see them for myself.

My first visit was the Barcelona Lighthouse in Westfield, New York. Built in 1829, it was the first lighthouse in the world to be fueled by natural gas — a remarkable idea for its time. The stone tower stood quietly against the blue sky, its door locked, the grounds peaceful and still. Even though I couldn’t go inside, I stood at the base and imagined the keepers who once climbed those stairs, tending a flame that guided travelers safely to shore. There’s a calm strength in places like this — reminders that guidance doesn’t always need to shout; sometimes it just shines steadily through the years.

A short drive farther brought me to the Dunkirk Lighthouse, one of the oldest lights on Lake Erie. This one was open, and I couldn’t resist the challenge of climbing to the top. The metal spiral staircase wound tightly upward, each step creaking beneath my feet. My heart beat faster — not just from the climb, but from the height. I’ve always had a little fear of heights, though I try to face it whenever I can. Over the years, that’s led me over America’s scariest and highest bridges, across long pedestrian walkways, and now, up this tower overlooking the water.

At the top, wind whipped across my face. The lake spread out like a silver sheet, endless and alive. For a moment, fear and awe were the same thing. I thought about all the keepers who had stood here before me, watching storms roll in, trusting their light to cut through the darkness.

A few days later, I made my way north to Tibbetts Point Lighthouse, where Lake Ontario meets the St. Lawrence River. The tower, built in 1854, still houses one of the few working Fresnel lenses on the Great Lakes. The lightkeeper’s cottage now serves as a visitor center, and the air smells of river mist and open water. Standing there, with waves splashing against the rocks, I felt something quiet settle inside me — a kind of peace that comes from knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

I’ve learned that there are more than 200 lighthouses along the Great Lakes, which together stretch nearly 11,000 miles of coastline. During my stay here, I’ve visited three of them, each with its own quiet story and view of the water. I plan to stop at one more when I begin my next journey.

This journey of seeing the lighthouses has become more than checking places off a list. It’s a reminder that courage is built step by step — one stair, one bridge, one risk at a time. Light has a way of leading you forward, even when the climb feels uncertain.