New York State, USA: The other New York

If New York City is like Beyonce, a dazzling showstopper, then New York State is often treated like Solange, her sister: known but largely ignored. How frustrating it must be to live in Schenectady or Syracuse and have to explain to clueless foreigners that a world exist beyond the far reaches of the Bronx. Occasionally, in New York City subway stations, advertisements appear reminding passengers about the 22 national parks, the four National Heritage Areas, Bear Mountain, even the wilderness of Adirondack Park. There is a surreal disconnect between these picturesque images and the unhappy urbanites tapping away at Candy Crush while the driver announces yet another delay.

One day I decide to investigate. New York City covers 1214 square kilometres. New York State covers 54,555 square kilometres. So what's in that other 97.8 per cent?

I hire a car and drive out of Manhattan across the George Washington Bridge, cutting through the states of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. On a map, New York State looks like a head of a bird; the metropolis is at the base of the neck while my destination, Rochester, is near the end of the beak, slightly short of Buffalo and Niagara Falls. From Rochester my plan is to meander down to Ithaca, which conveniently takes me through wine country.

Built on the banks of the Genesse River, the city of Rochester may be unknown to most people outside America, but the world would look very different without it. For starters, we would not have Xerox or Kodak. In 1888, George Eastman founded the Eastman Kodak Company and spent the next few decades transforming photography into a medium for the masses. "You Press the Button, We Do the Rest," claimed the early company slogan. The Kodak headquarters loom in downtown Rochester, but Eastman wanted the city to be a great place to live so he could attract the best and brightest workers. His influence extends beyond to the Eastman Theatre, the Eastman School of Music, even a photography museum built in his renovated mansion.

Given Kodak's impact on the way we document our travel, this seems like a good place to start a sight-seeing tour of the state, and so, fleeing rain outside, I pass a fascinating morning wandering through rooms filled with daguerreotypes and elephant trophies (of which Eastman was apparently a fan). This surrealism continues in the afternoon. After taking a drive around the sleepy industrial city I stop by Artisanworks, a sprawling studio complex that reminds me of Frankenfurter's mansion from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. That is a good thing. Some of the sights include the Mona Lisa vomiting subway cars, a room full of Marilyn Monroes, a dentist chair and a clown, and a painting of New York City on fire, its populace being devoured by lions. Artisanworks is worth the trip to Rochester alone.

Part of what made Rochester's fortune in the early years was the Erie Canal, built to create a water route from Lake Ontario all the way over to the Hudson River. Today the canal is largely scenic, hugged by a multi-use recreation trail that, when finished, will be the longest in the United States, offering everything from cycling to cross-country skiing. It is possible to follow the water flow all the way back to New York City.

After leaving Rochester I decide to spend a night in Newark, right near the canal; but before getting there I detour through New York's largest apple growing area, Wayne County. Until recently, Williamson was the last dry town in the state. Maintaining a law left over from prohibition, alcohol was taboo. But the fruit business isn't exactly lucrative anymore, so several people lobbied a few years ago to have the rule changed so they could start bottling their produce. In other words, the teetotalers saved themselves through drink.

This makes the distilleries and vineyards something of a novelty here. At Apple Country Spirits, there is a sense of playfulness to the enterprise, even as the distiller hopes pear brandy and apple vodka can save his family's future. At Young Sommer Winery, the owners enjoy their chardonnay with a serious dose of irony. "Surprisingly, we haven't slid off the edge of the world," Herm Young tells me as he pours out a glass.