Adventure on the Erie Canal
The morning sun filters through maple and oak leaves, casting flickering shadows over the towpath. Sammy who just moved from Manhattan to Western New York glides his bike smoothly beside the gentle waters of the Erie Canal, a ribbon of stillness that mirrors the sky. The air carries a whisper of early autumn—crisp and laced with the scent of damp earth and turning leaves.
It was a quiet morning in North Tonawanda, and Sam stood with his bike where the canal surrendered itself to Lake Erie. The horizon stretched wide and silver, whispering of deeper currents and untold stories. He felt a pull—not westward, not toward distance, but back along the water’s edge to something unresolved. After dismounting, he closes his eyes and thinks of what it may have been like here 200 years ago. The sights the sounds, just everything.
