Maybe the only person that day to take a selfie on LeRoy Island.
Upstate New York is full of wonder. I’ve lived within an hour (or much less) of Lake Ontario for 40+ years but hadn’t heard of LeRoy Island until Friday night. And when I visited it, I realized why.
I planned a random Saturday roadtrip to clear my head out a bit, which I do from time to time, starting with fixed points of Waterloo Prime Outlets (to clear out my wallet) and Sterling Cidery. But what to do in between? Captain Jack’s on Sodus Bay? Nice, but nothing new. Chimney Bluffs? Been a while, maybe. Then I saw it floating on the map on the east side of Sodus Bay: LeRoy Island.
Thar she blows.
Go ahead: Google “LeRoy Island.” I’ll wait.
You back? Kind of a mystery, yes? Some Facebook checkins but no official presence. Some real estate listings. Not much else. My interest was piqued.
So after supporting the Seneca County economy at the outlet malls, I headed north on 414 but instead of turning right on 104, I went straight on something sometimes called Lake Bluff Road. Orchards and vineyards and farms lined the road. Off on the left toward Sodus Bay, I started to see the nouveau riche fabricated monstrosities, million-dollar plots individually or in cul de sacs boasting the coveted lake view. Those disappeared and the countryside returned. Following winding roads and instinct, at last I reached it: LeRoy Island.
What’s remarkable about LeRoy Island is that it is generally unremarkable. You drive across a bridge lined with fishermen, past a gritty marina that says parking for customers only (read: not a tourist trap) and onto the island’s main road, where water remains in view on both sides of you. Marina aside, it’s all residential. And quaint. The main road ends in a loop, and you can explore the one-lane camp roads (I met no traffic) and see the whole island quickly. The camps and houses are nice but not showy; not a McMansion in the bunch, and the cars are not luxury vehicles and sports cars or enormous Land Rovers but the kinds of vehicles driven by everyday folks.
When you finish a good book, you share it with your neighbors.
It feels like a throwback but in the best way — to a time when the middle class could afford waterfront property, where people liked and respected and said hello to their neighbors (there’s even a little free library where residents put their books when they’re done with them so others can peruse them), where folks talk across campfires and wooden fences and fishing lines. I saw nobody with their nose in a smartphone (as opposed to the outlet mall, where you couldn’t go 10 feet without seeing somebody absorbed by technology).
The people of LeRoy Island know they have a bit of paradise but don’t have to brag about it or showcase it in selfies, because it’s so much more rewarding to just soak in what’s around you and appreciate your blessings.
In the attention-craving world of 2018, LeRoy Island is in no hurry to be found. And in that dedication to being unremarkable, it is a remarkable find.