Canal Port, River Fort

There’s much more to the Niagara area than just the falls. It’s close enough to Lockport, NY, to visit a famous lock on the Erie Canal (finished 1825), and our campground on Lake Ontario shared the coastline with a 300-year-old fort that played a critical role in the French & Indian War, the American Revolution, and the War of 1812.

 

First a bit of orientation. The Erie Canal crosses 373 miles of relative flatland from Lake Erie at Buffalo to the Hudson River at Albany and was the first, cheap way to get bulky cargo from the Midwest and Great Lakes to New York City and Atlantic markets. Originally four feet deep and forty feet wide, it was built entirely with man and animal power in just eight years. People called it a boondoggle when it started and an engineering marvel when it was completed. The canal used 83 locks (now 35) to handle the 570-foot elevation change from Lake Erie to the Hudson. Several other feeder canals were built off of this one, to both north and south.

 

Lockport, the town we visited, has the last set of locks before Lake Erie. It was famed for this unique “flights of five”—a double set of five locks each that lifted (right-hand flight) or lowered (left-hand flight) boats about 60 feet between the two levels of the canal. The oak gates on each lock were opened and closed by men pushing the cantilevered poles at the top of the gates. The locks were sized for the narrower boats used back then. (This 1880 photo from http://www.eriecanal.org/Lockport-1.html.)

Replica of a small workboat that plied the early Erie Canal. The more well known barges (packet boats) that carried goods and people were longer and flatter and famously towed by mules along a canal-side towpath. The canal’s creation opened the flow of commerce that ultimately led to its own demise: the rise of railroads serving the Midwest soon outstripped its usefulness.

 

A downstream view of the narrow flight of five still extant at Lockport. The town's locks were renovated several times to keep pace with upgrades along the entire canal to accommodate larger barges and boats. In 1915, the other flight of five was widened and reduced to two locks (now numbered #34 and #35) that did all the lifting and lowering of the original 10 locks. This flight of five was relegated as a spillway. The city recently rebuilt its oak gates (seen here open, tucked against the walls), and it has plans to restore the entire five-step lock.

  

The downstream end of the Erie Canal. The two-mule towpath along most of the canal has been converted to walking, bicycling, and horse paths. It’s still possible to piece together the whole route on foot or bike. I’d love to do that someday.

The wider two-lock system, now with steel doors activated by enormous gears and automated machinery, uses only two stages to step boats up and down.

  

Andy, the lock master, shows us a set of circuit breakers and generators for the equipment used to run the locks. It’s original stuff from the turn of the century (some modern safety features added). He completely dismantles, cleans, and polishes them each winter while the locks are closed. He’s been at this job for 20 years, opening and closing the locks for kayaks, tour boats, private boats, and light industry, and caring for the equipment year after year. He still finds it very rewarding.

Old-world controls that still operate the lock gates and filling valves/pumps. His little control booth also has remote cameras to verify boats are clear of gates, and high-tech computer monitoring of water levels, pump output, signal lights, and other safety measures that ensure he can’t open the gates too soon and that the boat pilots know what’s going on.

A small, dusty, onsite museum is stuffed with canal memorabilia: old maps and construction diagrams, photos and signs, whistles and signal lights. These Edison bulbs were in use in the early days of the canal.

A tour boat is moored in the first lock, #35. The downstream gates are closed, and the water level is already about 25 feet above the rest of the canal behind it. They’re just about ready to motor into the open gate ahead, for step two of the locking process.

 

The same tour boat, now in lock #34. It has gone through the middle set of gates, which are closed behind it. This bathtub fills and lifts the boat the final 25-30 feet to the upper level of the canal.

 

The tour boat is now way beyond the locks. This 1914 bridge that it went beneath has its own claim to engineering fame: it is one of the widest bridges in the world (129-foot span, with a whopping 399-foot road width). The bridge is basically a huge rectangle with its longest sides parallel to the canal. Two lanes of traffic cross the canal at the near end, two more lanes of traffic cross the canal diagonally, and parking lots fill the triangular spaces in between. Not one piling or post supports it in the middle.

 

Back nearer our campground, we visited Niagara Fort State Park and Old Fort Niagara, both technically in the city of Youngstown, NY. This lovely lighthouse is original to 1872 and was used through the early 1900s.

 

Fort Niagara is the oldest continuously occupied military site in the U.S. Started as a basic post by the French in 1659 to defend against local Indian tribes, it was used and added to alternately by the French, the British, and the Americans to defend the strategically located mouth of the Niagara River, which included access to the Great Lakes. (This importance later declined due to the Erie Canal.) Restored by the U.S. in the late 1920s, it’s very much like walking through 18th-century castle/military grounds in France or England. Thick stone walls, earthen ramparts, heavy wooden beams, and weighty cannon convey solid strength and indestructibility. This main gatehouse is a 1931 reconstruction to match the other buildings; the original gatehouse was wood.

 

Inside the “south redoubt” (fortified gateway), which was added by the British when they took the fort from the French before the American Revolution. Its purpose was to protect the fort’s main gate (previous photo) using a roof cannon and 20 live-in soldiers. A windlass like this, counterweighted with metal-banded boulders, would have closed the redoubt’s gate. By the War of 1812, America owned the fort, and the British came to reclaim it; they had to break down the redoubt’s door to reach the Americans inside.

 

A mix of the very old and the somewhat contemporary stored in the redoubt. The vacuum cleaner especially caught my attention. Where do you suppose they plugged that in?

A model of the peninsular fort as it was in the earliest days. Lake Ontario is at the left; the rest of the water is the Niagara River. The largest building on the point at the far left is the “French Castle”—more on that later. We’re standing in the provisions warehouse, the big building that’s almost in the middle of the model.

 

Soldier’s-eye view over the Niagara River. From this spot in 1813, the Americans would have fired on the British who had set up defenses across the river in what is now Canada.

 

Historical interpreters dressed in the clothing of various eras provide insights into life on the fort grounds. These are in British costume from 1812.

 

And these are American uniformed soldiers of the same time. Beyond them is the French Castle, built in 1726. It’s the oldest building in America’s Great Lakes region, and was the primary living and working quarters for the French garrison and later only for the officers. Although strong enough to withstand Indian attack, it was designed to look like, and be used as, a large trading house to ease the suspicions of the Iroquois. It was in use by army families as late as World War I.

One of the reconstructed soldier barracks inside the castle. Men slept side by side on a slant-board only six feet deep, their heads at the wall. Officers had their own well-appointed, two-room quarters.

 

Surprisingly, the castle’s kitchen had a faintly smoldering fire, making it the only warm spot in the building. Ken immediately cozied up to it on this chilly afternoon and came away smelling like a campfire.

 

First-floor trade room, outfitted as it would have been in the days when Iroquois and other tribes traded furs for manufactured goods. Other buildings on the grounds that are open for exploration include a blacksmith shed, powder magazine, provisions storage, and bakehouse.

Below is a demo of loading and firing American muskets (turn up the sound). Amazingly, both guns worked. The sound of a fife in the background is from a live piper playing from inside the castle. Dressed in British colors, she explained how armies used fife and drums to convey battle commands…the instruments, especially the fife, were all that could usually be heard over the noise of guns and fighting.

Falling for Niagara

It’s worth the trip. Really. Just please spell it right (not like the little blue pill).

We started out for Niagara from the Pesque Isle Casino in Erie, PA, along Lake Erie, a layover stop after our departure from Ohio. The casino offers—yes—drive-through betting. These cars were lined up at 1:00 on a Saturday afternoon.

A residential hazard of free casino camping: acres of empty parking lot all around us, and some yahoo trucker pulls in near ten p.m., parks next to our bedroom window (left side of photo), and idles his engine all night (despite posted ordinances against doing so). Sleepless in Erie.

A bit of New York state, western side. These always remind me of overgrown STP cans (those of fifty years ago—oy).

A surprising amount of western New York is given over to vineyards.

The toll part of I-90 to Buffalo has no exits for rest stops. Instead they built a travel center where truckers and travelers can stop to empty wallets and fuel up tanks and bellies. An enclosed pedestrian bridge takes you across I-90 into a megamall of gift shops, a visitor center, restrooms and showers, and a smorgasbord of food court options. Permeating all is the sweet tempting smell of Cinnabon. Overheard by one of four leather-clad bikers as we passed through the walkway: “48 states in 21 days, started in Columbus, GA.” Ugh. And we thought we were traveling quickly.

A New York reminder of what’s important. It leads to little more than a pullout, but we saw a few vehicles there.

Buffalo is the nearest major city to Niagara, and the first one we passed through since Knoxville. At the northern tip of Lake Erie, it sits at the start of the Niagara River, which empties Lake Erie into Lake Ontario via the falls. It is also the western terminus for the famous Erie Canal (no longer in use for trade). Our freeway flyby showed an historic downtown/business district that looked decent enough as cities go, the interior of their retro-style minor league baseball field (Coca-Cola Field), and many defunct railroad yards and docks that have been converted to community green belts and parks. Skeletal remains of the city’s heyday in steel are also evident. This is the top of the art deco City Hall, built in 1931.

The toll bridge to Grand Island, which is just past Buffalo, sits in the Niagara River, and acts as the gateway to Niagara. The southbound traffic has a twin bridge.

Waterfalls = power. More later on how Niagara feeds this forest.

Lake Ontario, from our state park campground, way past the falls. Want a sense of the size of this lake? Far off in the blue murk is the Toronto skyline…30 miles straight to.

At the Robert Moses Power Station on the U.S. side of Niagara River. This model lays out the geographical and hydroelectrical story of how Niagara River wraps around the U.S. city of Niagara Falls and is used by the U.S. (top) and Canada (bottom). In 1950, Canada and the U.S. agreed to an ingenious plan to tap Niagara’s hydro potential without compromising the beauty of the falls with too much water draw or unsightly power stations clustered at its base. Basically, each country built huge tunnels to divert water from the river ahead of the falls into retention reservoir/power station systems that are placed after the falls. The treaty requires a minimum amount of water to flow over the falls during specified times of the day and year to maintain their appearance. So both countries get the elevation difference between inflow and outflow to power their turbines and feed their electrical grids, plus all the tourism that comes from the constant, curtained flow of Niagara Falls.

The two nations’ power stations, as seen from the Robert Moses viewing deck.

From an overlook at one of the “introduction” parks we stopped at along Niagara Gorge on our way to the falls: rapids on the Niagara River, looking south, toward the falls, which are far around the bend. An easy walking trail goes all the way there, four to five miles away. (We drove.)

Niagara Gorge, looking north, from the same viewpoint. This is the Whirlpool, a natural, highly turbulent eddy that usually spins counterclockwise (it occasionally reverses direction because of water diversion from the power plants). Canada has set up an airborne tour excursion across it—that red and yellow gondola riding the cable. Because of the geologic bowl created by the whirlpool, the ride actually never comes to the U.S. side, although it looks like it.

The lilacs were in fragrant bloom here, more than three weeks later than those we saw in Savannah, TN.

One of two parts of Niagara Falls State Park. This is on the “mainland” for access to the north-most end of the falls.

Technically there are three waterfalls, collectively called Niagara: American Falls (wide band closest to the front), Bridal Veil Falls (a much narrower band not quite visible beyond the outcrop of American Falls), and Horseshoe Falls (the largest of the three, farthest away in the pic, also called Canadian Falls).

Ken and Canada’s Niagara Falls city skyline.

Another view of American Falls. Three things to note (click pic for bigger image): At the bottom is a boardwalk, now closed, where people used to get closer to the middle level of the falls. At the far end of the falls, there’s a break of rock, creating a second waterfall. That’s Bridal Veil. At the left edge, there are people at the viewpoint—scale is a wonderful thing.

Looking far into the falls’ source: the Niagara River, traveling several miles from Lake Erie at Buffalo and going to Lake Ontario after the falls. This is from the bridge that gets you to the second part of Niagara Falls State Park, Goat Island, which sits in the river. The island’s presence is what creates the two main sets of falls.

Horseshoe Falls and its viewing park on the U.S. side.

Horseshoe Falls up close. I was glad for guardrails.

The Canada skyline. Most of the hotels are in Canada, which offers full-on views of the falls. Fortunately, you don’t have to pay for hotel-balcony seating to enjoy them.

It’s difficult to comprehend the volume of water pouring down 24/7—600,000 gallons per second. On average, this is actually only 25% to 50% of the water that would be flowing if both countries weren’t diverting it for power before it ever gets here.

Tokens to the water gods?

High winds tried to steal Ken’s hat. The portion of Canada across the way is tourist heaven. Note the Ferris wheel at the left. In the water is Canada’s Hornblower boat tour of the falls. The U.S. version is the Maid of the Mist tour. They both ply the river continuously, Canada’s guests dressed in red ponchos, America’s in blue.

American Falls from Goat Island.

A quieter space amid all the roar and hubbub of the greater falls.

Back on the mainland. The Rainbow Bridge links Canada and the U.S. for cars and pedestrians. The water is so wonderfully blue—very different from the murky greenish Mississippi and Ohio rivers.

Crossing to see Niagara from Canada’s perspective. (Tip: Be sure to have two quarters per person to unlock the turnstile on your return to the U.S.!)

Canada’s Queen Victoria Park is much more formally laid out than the state park on the American side—squarely trimmed bushes, symmetrical pathways and garden beds, etc. Tulips were in bloom everywhere.

American and Bridal Veil Falls from Canada. Movie below.

Horseshoe Falls.

 

From this close, it looks like a continuously overflowing bathtub.

The rusting remains of a dredging scow that nearly washed over Horseshoe Falls in 1918. Its tugboat got stuck on a sandbar half a mile from the falls, but the laden barge swung with the current, eventually snapping its towline and floating free until good fortune grounded it within 2,500 feet of the brink. Two crewmen were stranded on board. It took locals all day and night to perform a harrowing rescue, which included several failed attempts to set up cables and a breeches buoy (think zipline) slung between the barge and the roof of a shoreline power plant. They eventually succeeded.

Erosion of the leading edge of this portion of the Niagara escarpment (the rock layers beneath the river and falls). It has receded from a relatively straight edge in 1678 into the deep horseshoe of today in only 350 years. Thousands of years ago, the brink of Horseshoe Falls was seven miles farther down the Niagara River, well beyond where the power stations and the Whirlpool are now. Thousands of years from now, it may be far behind Goat Island, with only one extra-wide waterfall spanning the whole river.

Although I managed to get most shots without people, we were just two of hundreds trying to get a good pic…and none of the scads trying to get selfies. It was really a lot less crowded than I expected, though, because we were early in the season.

Ken at Horseshoe. The remains of that scow are just to the right of the bushes.

Canada goes overboard trying to make sure no moment is a dull moment in its Niagara Falls city. Within walking distance from Rainbow Bridge is a multi-block hub, Clifton Hill, to rival Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge: miniature golf (indoor and outdoor), 4-D movie adventures, T-shirt and fudge shops, indoor roller coasters, wax and movie museums, monster and dinosaur encounters, Marineland aquarium, carnival midways, a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum, etc. It’s much quieter around the upscale hotels.

Mr. Moose is honored to be in a photo with Ken, especially when he is wearing slacks instead of shorts...a rare occurrence indeed, and this time only because it was dang cold in the wind.

On the U.S. side, I decided to take the Maid of the Mist tour, while Ken took over the photography from the observation deck high above the dock. The wind and I had an argument about how to put on the poncho they give each passenger. I eventually won, sort of.

Before launch, I spotted Ken at the top of the tower. Everyone crowded the rails for the best views. Fortunately, the boat was only about half full, giving us all ample space.

My tour boat pausing at American Falls. This is as close as we can safely get to the base because of the rocks, and everyone around me hooted and hollered and yayed over the slight mist that sprayed us. It was nothing like what was to come.

The boat dallies for five minutes in the heart of the Horseshoe Falls. There are no rocks to halt the water’s freefall here, and tens of millions of gallons pour over the edge every minute, cascading 167 feet with unimpeded abandon. We are getting drenched with more than mist and spray—it is rain, pure and simple, driving at us with each gust of wind. Blue ponchos flap like birds trying to break free of tethers. I have already pushed back my hood to face each deluge with eyes closed and mouth grinning. The water is cold and pelting and tastes fresh on the tongue. It pours down the neck of my poncho and drenches my shirt. Against the falls’ ear-filling roar, the tour guide’s voice buzzes like a gnat over the speakers, and the delighted whoops and screeches from my shipmates are blown into Canada. Most people around me are either trying to keep their cameras dry under ponchos, laughing and holding each other for selfies, or massing at the rails for balance in our bobbing, roiling river. Each time the wash subsides, all I see is a wall of white: the horseshoe is so high and wide, and our position so deep into the curve, that it consumes all peripheral vision. My heart swells, my breath comes in gasps, and I am near to tears, so full is the beauty.