Race Day at Watkins Glen

Want to be, racer

Glen Canyon

Glen Creek Falls

Race Parade

The old street Course

Glen Creek Trail

I was looking through our CAA travel guide to New York. The blue ‘gem’ symbol was placed beside the name Watkins Glen State Park.

“This sounds good,” I said to Jim. “It says the park has 19 waterfalls.”

“I think there’s some kind of race track there as well,” Jim told me.

Not only was there ‘some kind of race track’ - but it was their 57^th anniversary of the first road race in the US following WW2. Our truck, complete with the compliment of kayaks and bikes on the roof, towing our trailer managed to drive on some of this racecourse as fans, vendors and officials lined the street.

After a bit of fancy driving, we made it to our campsite. The park was what we had come for – the race was a bonus. It was truly convenient that the hiking trail that followed the gorge ended up at one of the big display car parking lots. This was off Main Street, which was start line for the race.

We walked downhill from our campsite through tall trees. We entered the official ‘Watkins Glen Gorge Trail’ by way of a gracefully curved stone bridge. Even at low autumn water levels, Glen Creek made a beautiful sight.

We were down in the gorge bottom. At places it was quite wide. The creek made large gentle pools, which dropped over graceful curving rock edges into another pool. Other places were narrow where the water squeezed through tight rock openings. Sometimes it scurried down rocky troughs - sometimes it leapt through the air into a pool below.

The trail itself was a work of art. Besides the stone bridges, there was a spiral tunnel and miles of stacked rock railings. The actual footpath was formed of either natural rock or was pieced together by craftsmen like tile work. However it was the actual route that was the real highlight. As the trail wound its way down the gully, it closely followed the creek - so closely that we actually walked behind three waterfalls.

“This place is a bit like Johnson’s Canyon,” I told Jim, thinking of one of our favourite hiking spots in Banff.

“Only this is way, way better,” he added.

Leaving the canyon we were abruptly in another world. Lines of classic old and new sports cars were parked at the trail entrance. Hundreds of people were milling around and admiring the extraordinarily polished display vehicles.

Main street was now closed and in two lines were parked an amazing collection of vintage Alpha Romeo racing cars. These had attracted even more people – they were peering into the vehicles or examining them back, front and sideways. Groups of men wearing assorted racecar gear stood in small groups drinking beer and discussing the vehicles or the race history in detail. We joined the ogling. Jim was much better at it than I was however. I felt a little like he must have felt at the cheese factory.

After a singing of the National Anthems of both Canada and the USA, engines were revved and the Alphas rushed off as the first of three groups of cars. (Some of the cars seemed to be running so rough we wondered if they would make it up the steep hill that started at the end of Main Street.) The next group of ‘racers’ was a collection of classic racing cars. There was everything from mini coopers to Porsches. The final group was the noisiest. The ‘muscle cars’ were so loud they rattled your insides as they roared past.

This was a ‘race re-enactment’. Barring breakdown (an ever-present possibility) where you started was where you ended. There were other differences from a real race. We saw only a few helmets being worn. Most vehicles were without seatbelts. Passengers (yes, passengers) often sat on the floor. One car had Dad driving with Mom and two small children. A couple of cars had pets. Over half the drivers were not alone.

With two laps of the 6-mile road course completed, the race was over. It seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go to for such a short time – but looking at the faces of the participants as they finished, they wouldn’t have agreed with me.