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.