North Coast
©2025, George J. Irwin. All rights reserved.

I’ve written a lot about the Jersey Shore, and I’ve thought a lot more than is evident from what I’ve "published" about the Pacific. But despite the fact that I’ve lived away from New Jersey longer than I’ve lived in New Jersey, I have not really written anything about the "third" coast of the United States—or the "fourth" if you count the Gulf Coast. And that’s what is sometimes called the "North Coast"—the shoreline of the various Great Lakes.

Around here, it really is close enough to a North Coast, as the shore of Lake Ontario runs generally east to west, and across the lake is Canada. Farther west, along the shore of Lake Erie from around Buffalo, New York through Erie, Pennsylvania and on to about Cleveland, Ohio, it’s more of a northeast to southwest bearing. In Buffalo it’s more of a north to south coast than a North Coast, and Lake Erie is to the west. And from Detroit, Michigan to Toledo, Ohio, the shore of Lake Erie lies to the east of land, and Detroit is easterly of Toledo. It goes on from there, but you get the idea. Looking at a map of the Great Lakes, the term "North Coast" seems like it’s really quite a stretch.

For us, though, it works, ignoring the fact that in our immediate area, there’s a "dip" in Lake Ontario that causes the shore to run more northwest to southeast, then change direction after the Irondequoit Bay Outlet and veer somewhat less angled from southwest to northeast. It’s more or less "north."

It’s also not the ocean, which makes it unlike the East and West Coasts. It’s fresh water (and part of the Earth’s single largest store of it), which makes it unlike the Gulf Coast. But the Great Lakes are mostly large enough that you can’t see across them to the other side, with exceptions like the "Golden Horseshoe" at the west end of Lake Ontario, among others. Certainly from our usual perspective, you’re not going to see Canada even on the clearest of days: it's about 46 miles directly across from Irondequoit Bay to the North Shore of the like near Rosehall, Ontario.

And it’s also big enough to have tides, although not on the scale of the oceans. There can be some serious waves. In August 2011, the remnants of Hurricane Irene, which was disastrous farther east in New York State, brought wave action… that also brought surfers. That was a sight to see, and I was grateful that this was the only sight in the immediate area that was unusual from that cyclone. You may also know about how gale winds in the farther west Great Lakes, particularly Lake Superior, are enough to cause substantial damage. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a tragedy preserved in the 1976 song by Gordon Lightfoot of the same name, took place as hurricane force winds and thirty foot high waves pounded the area.

Here at the other end of the Great Lakes, we don’t see those Gales of November that came early (to slightly misquote the song). Instead, it’s relatively calm much more than it isn’t, and even when it isn’t, it is not at the level of fury that is seen in the western Great Lakes.

No, most of the time this part of the North Coast is relatively quiet. During the summer, things pick up. One of the oldest operating amusement parks in the world (founded in 1879!) is open in season, and it brings people to the several restaurants in the immediate area. There are plenty of watercraft on Irondequoit Bay and the adjacent waters of Lake Ontario. Just a bit west is Durand Eastman Park, and a bit west of that is Charlotte Beach at the mouth of the Genesee River. The Genesee is one of the uncommon major rivers that flows north, and Charlotte has the uncommon pronunciation of "shar-LOT" or "sha-LOT" (sometimes with and sometimes without the "r"). Charlotte has more restaurants, a beach, and a Dentzel Carousel, which boasts not just horses but other animals. Charlotte is also not far from where I first lived when I moved here. I wanted to be near water, even if it meant a longer drive to graduate school than most area residents would tolerate. Also in Charlotte is the "secret sidewalk," which is, as I understand it, the remains of a former public street that runs behind houses and along the shore. It’s open to the public but you have to know where to look for it. The houses in front of the sidewalk are some of the most expensive in the City of Rochester.

Keep going west and the shoreline mostly plays host to more private residences for a few miles, some modest, some palatial, all with quite high property taxes. There is very little public access to the coastline—sorry, there’s only one "secret sidewalk." The density of housing comes to an abrupt halt at Braddock Bay, where you’re forced to turn back inland. The closest way to continue westward is the Lake Ontario State Parkway, a four lane divided road in the style of Robert Moses, complete with low overhead bridges that restrict traffic to passenger cars only. The Parkway was supposed to reach all the way to Niagara Falls when proposed, but only gets about 35 miles west to Lakeside Beach State Park. It’s among the least traveled highways in the state.

"Our" part of the North Coast doesn’t really extend even that far. I have occasionally visited Hamlin Beach State Park, which is 20 miles west on the Parkway, including a memorable night viewing the Northern Lights with Colleen. When we go for drives westward along the North Coast, we usually get only to Long Pond before turning around. It’s vaguely resemblant of portions of the Jersey Shore, including my beloved Manasquan Beach, but with a lot less traffic.

Head back to where we started at Sea Breeze (the neighborhood, not the amusement park) and go just a little bit east to the outlet of Irondequoit Bay and you’ll find a moveable bridge. This bridge, opened in 1998, is a compromise between motorists and boaters: it is in the closed position for vehicular traffic between November 1 and April 1, and in the open position to allow watercraft in and out of the bay the rest of the year. There’s a small public beach nearby and a jetty which protects the outlet and provides great views of the sunset over the lake during the summer.

Cross the outlet and you’re on Lake Road, along a narrow strip of land between the bay and the lake. This strip once played host to the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg Railroad, popularly—and inexplicably—known as the "Hojack." It avoided the heights either side of Irondequoit Bay by coming right up against the lakeshore for a distance on both sides of the outlet. This part of the Hojack was torn out before I arrived here on the North Coast, but a few portions of the embankment on which it was built remain. Much newer is a town park that affords visitors another nice view of the lake. From there east for multiple miles, particularly along the Lake Ontario side, the residences are private and upscale in nature, occasionally interrupted by public property including a county park. By the county line, the area is a bit more rural; farms and apple orchards mix in. Then there’s the perhaps jarring sight of a nuclear power station right along the lakeshore. What’s now called the Ginna Clean Energy Center first went into operation in 1970. After a refurbishment, its current owner is licensed to operate it until at least 2029.

A bit farther east of there is a small farmhouse that my first wife and I briefly considered buying while still a married couple with no children (but the first one on the way). It was charming but a bit too far away from things, and while it had a basement, it didn’t have enough depth for me to comfortably stand up in—and therefore not suitable for that dream model railroad layout. I learned several years later that someone who worked in a local restaurant purchased it instead, and was immensely happy with it, so it all worked out.

Lake Road continues for some distance after that, sometimes meandering a bit from the immediate lakeshore, until the road, renamed Bay Street and then Grieg Street, comes to an unavoidable end at Sodus Point, almost thirty miles from the Irondequoit Bay Outlet. Sodus Point is a bit residential, a bit touristy, and a bit fishing village, in my view—yours might differ. There are several restaurants, mostly in season. New York State Route 14, which started at the Pennsylvania border, also reaches its end here—or has its beginning, depending on how you look at it. (See: US 1, Key West, Florida or Fort Kent, Maine).

And Sodus Point is about where we reach the end of what I’d call "our" part of the North Coast. There are large gaps I’ve not personally traveled along eastward from there. Hamlin Beach State Park is probably the point at which I’d call the west end. But the usual span is between Braddock Bay and just east of Irondequoit Bay, which is just a few miles, a tiny fraction of the entire North Coast.

When I lived in New Jersey, I didn’t visit the usual tourist spots like the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building despite their proximity to where I lived. The same was true for the shoreline, even though it’s even closer: around ten minutes to the Irondequoit Bay Outlet. There is reason to be there all year round; we have all four seasons here in abundance, though I have wished that Winter wasn’t quite as abundant as it is some years. Colleen and I have gotten better with visiting, even if it’s just a detour on the drive to or from the other side of town. Lately we’ve been making it more of a destination.

...