Against all instinct, we went west. As in towards the scene of cowboy movies, towards the sun's evening rest stop, towards home. Through 100 miles of perfectly groomed, expansive lawns along a two lane highway called 104, we drove 'til we hit Canada. (Now commonly one would drive north to hit Canada, but we're clever on the roads and we were able to do so by driving west.) Before us crashed and foamed and sprayed and steamed what was once a honeymoon capital. Niagara Falls, the nation's first State Park, was a landmark we couldn't avoid when we were just within a few hours' drive.
The effect of gravity.
We arrived in the early evening, and the weather was perfect. Straddling the fourth, vacationers stretching their four-day weekends into 10 days were walking all about, kids on shoulders and running ahead. We pulled our bikes out of the trailer and explored until sundown, marveling, as all do, at the incredible gush where Lake Erie meets gravity. We boarded the blue ship Maid of the Mist, donned the oversized blue grocery bags they gave us as waterproofing, and chugged slowly against the flow of the river as close as the captain dared to the great Horshoe Falls. The sunset sang rainbows into the flying drops of water, and up close the heavy quilts of liquid seemed to move in slow motion.
Our own Perfect Storm.
We debated kayaking over, wakeboarding below, kiteboarding in the midst, but settled, quite contentedly, as marveling spectators for the overflowing beauty of the place.
Aryn looking into the American Falls.
Then we decided to take in the view from Canada. With mountain bikes under-seat, we peddled right up to the toll booth at the border and paid the requisite $.50 a bike to cross into a new country...where it was a zoo. Amazing what a little strip of river can do to the vibe of a place. Back on our side, the mood was respect and awe, composed of an appreciation for the presence of natural wonder. In the Maple Leaf, it was a permanent carnival, literally. The street which stretched upward from the Falls was packed with such businesses as Ripley's Believe It Or Not, Alien Encounter, Toss the Ball for an Ugly, Over-sized Stuffed Animal, and numerous haunted houses and parlor tricks. And the whole area was FULL of people milling about. I'm talking packed sidewalks and bumper-to-bumper cars. The huge Casino, called just that as far as we could tell, drew a whole other crowd. A vendor at the Maid of the Mist gift shop had tipped us off that the best rate for money exchange was in the Casino...they even beat the bank rate.
Us.
When we returned to the U.S., the American Falls were lit up gold in the night, a living river on the stage. The moon was in abscentia, and the parking lot where The Beast was resting, abandoned by all other occupants, was so dark that for a moment we thought he had been towed. But luckily, it was only a moment of misconception, rather than a realization of the truth.
We spent the night just a few miles out of Niagara, and began the drive towards the Maine coast in the morning.
