When I tell people I see Rochester, New York, as a coastal city, they usually laugh. I get it—it sounds ridiculous at first. There’s no ocean, no salt air, and no bustling harbor. Still, I can’t think about Rochester without picturing Lake Ontario at the same time.
To most people, Rochester is just another post-industrial upstate city with long winters and a history that always seems to be slipping further into the past. Few outsiders would ever guess that within its borders are beaches and quaint coastal communities—but to me, that’s just part of home. Even for many lifelong residents, the lake can feel like an afterthought or a scenic backdrop rather than a defining feature.
Before moving to Ithaca for university, I had never lived more than a five-minute walk from the water. That proximity shaped so much of my life, influencing how I spent my time, the activities I loved, and even how I experienced the seasons. I sailed on the lake for years, swam there every summer, and in the winters, I climbed the ice along the shore.
Even though I technically lived within city limits and not in the suburbs, I still felt somewhat disconnected from the rest of Rochester. Downtown, the heart of the city, sits along the Genesee river, while the official city boundaries stretch all the way north to where the river meets Lake Ontario–where I lived. It always felt like two different worlds. Downtown had its skyline, its historic buildings, its sense of being the “city,” while up by the lake, things felt quieter, more removed. The lake was my frame of reference, my version of Rochester, even if it wasn’t the one most people thought of first.
Being away from Rochester showed me how much I had taken certain places for granted, and living at school only made me appreciate home even more. Unlike many other parts of the city, the area surrounding the lakeshore is surprisingly walkable, with open green space that feels like a quiet escape from everything else. One spot that comes to mind is the “Secret Sidewalk,” a path just seven or eight minutes from my house. It breaks away from the main sidewalk along the road and winds along the lake’s edge, perched on top of a slope. It’s the kind of place you don’t stumble upon unless you know it’s there, and that only adds to its charm.
When I think of other Great Lakes cities like Chicago, Toronto, or even Buffalo, Rochester’s connection to its waterfront feels almost unnoticed. But it makes me wonder why–doesn’t the lake play a bigger role in the city’s identity? In places like Chicago, the waterfront is the heart of the city, lined with parks, museums, and endless activity. Toronto’s skyline reflects beautifully off the water, and Buffalo has spent years revitalizing its shoreline to make it a destination. Yet in Rochester, the lake sits quietly at the city’s edge, rarely a centerpiece in the way people talk about or experience the city. Is it a lack of investment? A matter of geography? Or have people just stopped seeing it as something significant? Whatever the reason, it feels like a missed opportunity. For those who take the time to notice, the lake stands out as one of Rochester’s most defining and valuable features.
Despite Rochester’s shortcomings when it comes to embracing Lake Ontario, I can’t help but appreciate it for what it is. For me, the lake isn’t just a backdrop. It is central to how I see the city. Maybe it’s not the focal point for everyone, and maybe it doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, but for those of us who know, the lake is still one of Rochester’s best-kept secrets.
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