[itinerary | lodging] You open your eyes. You see: a panorama of cliffs and rolling hills, mansions on top of vineyards on top of cottages on top of sea green water. You close your eyes. You feel: a cool, misty breeze, gently billowing your hair across your cheek and neck. You hear: clattering of silverware, goats baying on top of the mountain, a party of bridesmaids laughing among the rows of grape-dotted vines. You open your eyes again. You’re back at the wheel of this vehicle for your thoughts, back in the writer’s room for another hail-Mary season, back at the mysterious lake that prompted you to ask why.

Bully Hill Vineyards

Bully Hill Vineyards overlooks the lower branch of Keuka Lake from the western hills, a compound of compartmentalized viticulture spanning acres of pure field and forest. To the right, the tasting room invites oenophiles from around the world to sample the Finger Lakes’ special crop. To the left, a souvenir shop invites tourists to remember their friends and family back home with a local gift. On the cliff above you, two Billy goats munch weeds just behind the winery. Down the path below the shop, several people lounge in the outdoor patio of a bustling restaurant, waiting to be called for a table. You would take in the scene longer if you could, but your party is hungry. You rush to put your name in for a seat overlooking the lake.

The view from Bully Hill Vineyards, Hammondsport, NY

Not every winery includes a full restaurant, so you consider yourselves lucky to have found one offering enough variety to satisfy the unique tastes of your party. You’ve grown accustomed to the Finger Lakes by now, going beyond the written page to entertain guests at the source. Bully Hill offers a BBQ selection as well as tasty salads, sandwiches, and oh yeah– wine. The counter service style allows the freedom to go up and order at your leisure, but your friend offers to put everything in for the whole table. You opt for a glass of Seyval white to complement the lunch special you’ve been craving: Maryland-style crab cake with seared scallops and cucumber salad. Your companions order brisket sandwiches and one salmon/beet salad. You recommend the Baco noir to go with the brisket, having enjoyed that varietal during your adventures on the Canandaigua wine trail last year.

A neighboring diner takes interest in your smaller companion, their lap presently occupied by another little one. “How old?” she asks. “Just over two months,” you beam, returning the same question. “He’s nine months,” and you observe that despite his age, the infant is somewhat bigger than yours. Amazing what a difference a month or two can make, let alone a year or two. How much your life has changed since that January visit to Keuka Lake so long ago.

Clockwise from bottom: Salmon salad, Brisket sandwich, Crabcake and scallops

And yet, the Lake remains the same. In a world of constant change, you take solace in the fact that the Finger Lakes will always be there to provide a safe haven from creeping McUrbanism, climate destruction, and the forces of unfettered global capitalism. The Lakes don’t care who the president is. The Lakes don’t even know who you are. And sometimes that’s comforting, this shield of anonymity. You remember why you write in the second person perspective in the first place, why you withhold pictures of yourself from the public eye. Let the story — this amazing place — take center stage instead.

You take the last sip of your Seyval white and go for a stroll around Bully Hill’s grounds. Just at the entrance of the compound, a metal sunflower sculpture hypnotizes you with its blue-green mosaic eye. A little like the Evil Eye, the sunflower protects Bully Hill from the bad karma circulating the world beyond the Finger Lakes. Despite the cloudy sky, the sunflower aims ever upward toward Helios, the ultimate life-giver. You reflect on your own journey toward the sun these past two years. Maybe you flew a little too close and melted your wings. But — to mix a metaphor — as Alfred explains to young Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, “Why do we fall?”

To learn to pick ourselves up.

Sunflower sculpture at Bully Hill

Dr. Konstantin Frank Winery

Just a few miles north of Bully Hill, Dr. Konstantin Frank Winery shares the same sweeping view of Keuka’s lower branch. Parking is more difficult here at the world-renowned home of the Vinifera Revolution, where you soon learn from the host that tastings have all filled up for the day. But Eugenia’s Wine Garden is open, where guests can order flights, glasses, bottles, and snacks to enjoy at one of the many outdoor picnic tables among the vineyards. This style is right up your alley, less structured and more open. You order a flight of white wines while your companion orders red. You toss in a piece of cheesecake to be picked up later while your party picks a secluded table beneath two sprawling apple trees.

Apple of your eye – Dr. Konstantin Frank Winery in Hammondsport, NY

Your flight starts off with a glass of Gruner Veltliner, a taste you once again recall from your Canandaigua wine trail days – tart and dry with flowery bouquets. You try to sip slowly like any good wine connoisseur should, resisting the urge to down the liquid candy. The sun has started glowing through the apple trees, encouraging other parties to explore the surrounding grounds and gardens. A jovial bald man wanders over to the vegetable garden next to the apple trees, searching for something. He suddenly plucks an orange tomato right from the vine and retreats back to the wine bar, calling out to one of the servers. Is… is this Dr. Frank himself? Either way, you admire the carefree nature with which he enjoys nature’s bounty. In turn you sneak a small apple from a low-hanging branch. The sour green fruit is clearly meant for cider or salads, not for raw bites– but you enjoy it anyway.

At this time a server approaches apologetically, as they have used up all the thawed cheesecakes for the day. She hands a boxed frozen slice to take home but offers to provide a complimentary cheese plate over the inconvenience. You’re never one to refuse hospitality, so you accept her offer gratefully. Your party moves steadily through their respective flights. Your companion offers a taste of her Cabernet Franc, dark and woody and tannic. Best suited for a chilly winter night and a hearty meal, but nevertheless delightful on a late August afternoon.

Saperavi (front), Cabernet Sauvignon (rear)

The cheese plate soon arrives to much applause. A cavalcade of smokey soft cheeses, cornichons, baguette slices, Prosciutto, dried grapes, jam, and wafers– the plate is a symphony on the tongue alongside sips of delicious wine. A generous pat of mascarpone cheese is a tangy hit that melts in your mouth. Sesame seed chocolates provide the perfect sweet finish. You would make the trek back to Dr. Frank’s for this cheese plate alone.

Free cheese plate!

By now the party begins to wind down as everyone reaches their third and final glass to sample. Your finisher — a glass of Gewurztraminer — cleanses your palate with smooth, buttery flavor. You collect your plates and wander back toward the wine bar, breathing in the sunshine and lake air. With just an hour until the winery closes, there is still a healthy crowd throughout Eugenia’s Wine Garden. You pass through the tasting room on your way to the front shop, where you witness an interaction between the charming host and a departing guest wearing a Nirvana T-Shirt. “Love the shirt,” the host says. “Thanks,” replies the guest, “No one knows who they are anymore.”

You chuckle in agreement along with them. It may be true that many young people buy these shirts without knowing the deeper past of the bands advertised, but that’s certainly true of any new generation trying to participate in something from before their time. The host reminisces about his time seeing Nirvana and other ’90s bands years ago. You and another member of your party cannot help but join in on the fun.

“I saw Modest Mouse open for the Pixies,” he says.

“I saw Radiohead back when they played for like five people,” you joke, quoting Patton Oswalt.

The host laughs and rattles off a laundry list of bands you never saw, from Godsmack to Gwar, that he had seen back in the day. “To be fair,” you pipe up, “Steve Malkmus was the opener.”

Scenes from Dr. Konstantin Frank Winery

You could have talked about old bands from your childhood for another two hours, but the day is winding down — and your littlest companion is ready for a nap. Before you depart, you can’t leave without buying a bottle. You ask the shop girl for assistance finding the Gruner Veltliner, and she even packs it in a neat wine sack. A perfect wine for a special occasion. Or a nightcap when you get back home to Conesus Lake House. It doesn’t matter either way, because when you’re surrounded by the beauty and decadence of the Finger Lakes, you can indulge any time you want– including the cheesecake that’s finally thawed.

Cheers to another year.

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