In which Melanie leaves the county

The plan for today was Niagara Falls.

I got up late - too late for breakfast today. I hurried through shower and dressing, pausing only long enough on the way out to Mapquest the route, and to pack my laptop for the trip. After all, I've got only enough on-board memory for 11 shots at 3.1 mp, and I anticipated needing to dump pictures . I left at about 10:30, too late as it turns out to get breakfast from McDonald's either. I did order a Big and Tasty burger which was actually pretty good.

Unsurprisingly, the route is very well marked, and my Mapquest directions only served as assurance that I was on the right track. It was noon when I arrived at the park. Parking was $10. This seemed to be a bad omen, and I prepared myself to pay for just about everything I wanted to do. Luckily, walking is free, and so the parking fee turned out to be worst of it.

I first walked over to the brink of the American falls. It is spectacular to see the vast quantities of water that spill over the falls. As in Yellowstone, there is the suspicion that all that water must eventually run out, that there can't possibly be so much water to fuel the spectacle that is Niagara indefinitely.

From the American side, you are in close proximity to the action and can see the vastness of the Niagara complex. Across the American falls to the south is Goat Island, which divides the falls into the American and Canadian sides. Goat Island is accessible from the US side of the straight (what we call the Niagara River is actually a straight between Lakes Erie and Ontario) and from a distance seems to be completely developed as a park. Staircases lead down from the island into the gorge, permitting access to the bottom of the gorge. Undoubtedly, there is a charge for this access; the park runs tours down into the gorge below Goat Island.

Standing on the American bank, one can clearly see the long lines of people snaking their way along the opposite Canadian bank, as well as the buildings and parkland that surrounds Horseshoe falls on the Canadian side. A trick of geology prevents anyone standing on the US side from seeing more than the very southern side of Horseshoe Falls. To my right was the Rainbow bridge between the US and Canada. Pedestrians are permitted to cross the Rainbow bridge, and since I had already parked (and paid ten bucks to do so) it seemed more expedient to walk than to drive. After a check of the documents required for re-entry to the US, I decided that I was going to walk across to Canada.

Now, if you measure the distance from Rainbow Bridge to the American falls and the distance from Rainbow Bridge to the Canadian falls, the distance to the Canadian Falls is probably twice as far. I'm thinking as I'm heading for the customs house that I have a bit of a hike in front of me. However, I know that I can pretty much walk indefinitely, and besides, it's only 275 feet above sea level.

The problem is that there is no place where you can view the American falls head-on as long as you stay in the US. I was gratified then that the view from Rainbow bridge affords a panoramic view of both of the falls. The problem with the American side of the falls is that no matter where you are on the American side, the view is at best oblique. There is no The smallish dark squares in the water are two "Maid of the Mist" boats, out for their tours.

In the center of the Rainbow Bridge stand two flag poles, marking the point where Canada and the US meet (or are divided). I suppose the light pole is the effective boundary.

Once across the bridge, I had to enter Canada. This apparently involved questioning a slightly flustered American tourist to the Canadian customs officer's satisfaction. I had my single piece of identification out - my driver's license - but he never even glanced at it. "Where do you live?" "Kansas. No wait, I was born in Kansas," I laughed nervously. "I live in Colorado." "Where are you going?" "To the falls." "Where did you spend the night last night?" I faltered. I can't ever remember the name of the hotel on the fly. "Rochester." "Where are you staying tonight?" "Rochester." I didn't offer New York; either Rochester isn't a Canadian city to which one might walk from Niagara Falls, Ontario, or he was able to supply the US state himself. No matter. Satisfied that I didn't pose a threat to any Canadians, he waved me through.

I emerged into a formal garden, with low sculptural hedges, terraced with granite down to street level. This was quite a change from the American park, where the landscaping is more organic. The British influence was apparent; I had stepped into a formal nineteenth-century British estate garden, although facing an icon of the North American landscape.

The Canadians have built stout granite walls between the street and the precipice of the gorge. I found them to be a more substantial barrier to pitching over the edge, although they are perched right on the edge. From here, the majesty of the American falls was now apparent. The American falls seem too be the more stable of the two, with talus at the foot of the falls. The American Falls carry only about 10% of the water in the "river", and so the volume is not enough to carve out a plunge pool. Although erosion happens here, the American Falls are comparatively stable.

The Canadian Falls - Horseshoe Falls - is a completely different cataract. Carrying the vast majority of the Niagara's water, Horseshoe is retreating rapidly toward Lake Erie. Since the end of the last ice age, 12,500 years ago, the falls have moved seven miles south. In the 328 years since European "discovery", the falls have retreated 1280 feet, and they of course continue to move, although at a reduced pace; hydroelectric diversion has reduced the flow by half. Nevertheless, the falls will eventually be reduced to rapids between Lakes Erie and Ontario.

But for now, Niagara attracts millions of people a year, a large percentage of whom were at the Falls today. I am surprised at the number of visitors who are neither US nor Canadian citizens. Indians, Arabs, and Oriental peoples seem to predominate (blacks are noticeably missing). I surmised that the large number of Indian visitors account for the great number of Indian restaurants that I noticed driving out of the park. Is it that we Americans take for granted the jewels of our own landscapes, leaving the visitation to those for whom "Niagara" and "Yellowstone" have for generations been symbolic of our continent? Why are places that define our culture visited more by foreigners than by ourselves? Is it simply that the dollar is weak? Or - in spite of what seems to be prevailing opinion abroad - is America still seen as the pinnacle of cool?

The hike over to the brink of the Canadian Falls was every bit as far as it looked. Dressed in my usual black attire, I was beginning to get pretty hot. I was not disappointed in the destination, however - except that it seemed that there were constantly at least 300 people milling around me. The shots from the brink of the falls - they call it Table Rock - only begin to describe the effect. The water is deep greenish blue, from the dissolved minerals contained in it. It's flat just below your feet, before it plunges over the edge. The mists rise from the invisible depths, cooling the air wherever they blow.

Of course, where ever there are tourists there is money, and where ever tourists might be persuaded to part with that money there are gift shops. Table Rock is no exception; in fact it could be argued that Niagara is the great grandmother of marketing to tourists. The park building at Table Rock had not one gift shop, but two - with much the same merchandise of course. I did pick up a few items for the folks at home (well, the maple sugar candy is for me) managing to avoid the really cheezy stuff.

I was tired, and becoming in need of sustenance - not so much that I was going to wait in line for a soda at inflated prices though. So I decided to head back to Rainbow Bridge and see if my country was going to let me back in. There was a tiny bit of doubt, since I had only a driver's license and neither passport nor birth certificate in my possession. My right foot had decided to become painful for no apparent reason too.

I did take a couple of ganders over the edge on the way back and discovered a rainbow in the mist below the walkway. I am struck by the resemblance between the rainbow and the bow of Rainbow Bridge. Yes, that's the bridge I had yet to arrive at and to cross in the picture. The American Falls are on the right.

I was kind of glad to be able duck into a candy shop that was nearly empty of tourists for a soda, but not so happy when she charged me $1.78 US for a bottle of diet Coke. I crossed to the English garden and took advantage of the shade for a few minutes. I had started to feel somewhat sunburned, and was pretty eager to get out of the sun.

I climbed the granite stairs to the Canadian Customs house and opened the doors to be faced with a couple of turnstiles and a bank of change machines. No Canadian officers as expected. And a sign that read "PAY TOLL TO U.S.A." - I thought I got the entire placard in the picture. Dang! In any case, the government of Canada was chargingg us to leave! Either that or the US government was charging us to enter! This must be what is meant when they say that they'll get you coming or going. It seemed quicker to change a dollar rather than to dig for quarters.

After the walk back across the bridge, (I forgot to note earlier that it seems very far down to the water from up there) I entered the US Customs House on the east side of the Niagara Gorge. Here I had to wait in a short line for a couple of Japanese girls who were filling out forms, evidently incorrectly. The customs officer took my driver's license and mumbled something to me. After two tries, he restated the question, "where were you born?" and I was able to infer that he was asking my citizenship. "Oh, citizenship! In the US. I'm a US citizen." I know he mumbled, because he was speaking to me on my left side, and I hear a little better on that side than the right. He typed something into his computer, handed back my license and sent me off, back into the US.

I made a brief stop back at the visitor's center in the New York state park, and selected a route back to Rochester. I had used the New York Thruway on the way west. It's a good highway, and the toll was $3 including the Niagara River bridge. But I wanted a more local experience going back. I headed north on the Robert Moses State Parkway, which passes many historical and geographical points of note. They all looked interesting, but I was simply too tired to care. I would like to go to Fort Niagara State Park, which is rich in history, but another time.

Western New York is a fruit-growing region par excellence. The southern shore of Lake Ontario creates a unique climate for raising fruit. I stopped at a couple roadside stands and picked up locally grown apples, peaches and tomatoes. As I was trying to make selections at one stop, a lady thrust a huge peach into my hand. It's hard to shop and eat a two-handed peach at the same time but it was worth it. It was the first thing of substance that I'd had since breakfast, and I really appreciated it.

I hadn't planned on dining out, since I had made a kettle of soup last night, and needed to eat on it. It was almost 7 before I got to eat, but it had been a good day. The payoff has been made for this trip - tomorrow it's back to the really hard week of the installation. But I have apples and peaches to take with me to work - tasteful reminders of the weekend.