26th – 28th Aug: Days 140-142
I’d not ever had a burning desire to visit Niagara Falls but we were going to be so close that it seemed silly not to swing by. Nick had been before with his Dad in March 1990. He remembers it being so cold that the Falls were half frozen and there were hardly any other tourists.
We booked 2 nights just north of the Falls in a village called Lewiston. Driving here took us from Pennsylvania into New York State. We navigated around the suburbs of Buffalo and had our first ‘low bridge’ experience. Luckily that only involved a hasty stop and me running around in the road to halt traffic so we could execute a 5 point turn, rather than top-slicing the roof off Tin Can. Sometimes the lady in Google Maps gets it wrong…
The first night was our anniversary so we booked a nice restaurant in Lewiston itself. I broke out a dress, Nick donned shirt and slacks and as the best dressed folks in the whole darn campsite we got an Uber to the village. As a happy surprise there happened to be a rather large jazz festival afoot. The main street was closed to traffic, had a stage at each end, was lined with numerous vendors of beer and food and was filled with a happy crowd. The sun was shining and we had a very cool hour of apperitifs listening to the music and soaking up the buzz. Our meal was excellent and we managed to get our return Uber just ahead of the going-home crowds after the last band.
The next day I might have felt a little shabby, and might not have had an appetitive for breakfast sandwiches. I know. Unfair.
After a period of time and some appropriate drugs (I healed myself) I was feeling better and we called another Uber to take us down to the Falls. Following recommendations from multiple sources we took our passports and walked over the Friendship Bridge to the Canadian side, with only a mild and completely unfounded anxiety that they might not let us back into the USA on our return.
I have some observations, and some corrected personal misconceptions regarding Niagara Falls:
- American side shabby, Canadian side smart.
- In my mind, the river ran the other way and the American and Canadian sides were switched.
- It is actually 2 falls. American Falls and Horseshoe Falls. I really didn’t know this. Horseshoe falls is the Niagara I had imagined.
- The view is so much better from the Canadian side.
- There is a lot of water coming over those darn waterfalls.
- There are a lot of people who come to look at those big darn waterfalls and only about 5% have any spatial awareness or manners.
- Whoever is in the business of manufacturing disposable ponchos is making a good living out of the Niagara Falls tourist industry.
Once on the busy but nicely manicured Canadian side we wound our way slowly through the crowds down to Horseshoe Falls. Nick remembered doing a tour though tunnels behind the falls, just him and his Dad, and it being weird as the cascading water was frozen solid. We opted to do the same tour and joined the queue to get the lift down. Nick doesn’t deal with heights well. My Bête Noir is a touch of claustrophobia. Oh. They packed us into those tunnels. Hoards of yellow poncho wearing folks, rustling and shuffling along, each waiting for a turn to stand at the end of a tunnel mouth to watch a wall of white water cascading down in front of them. Not my thing at all. I felt much more relaxed once we got to the open air area at the base of the Falls. It really was epic being so close to it. Very wet, very noisy and a perfect photo opportunity given the backdrop of the cascading water, the Maid of the Mist boat and the rainbow. I cannot share a picture of this with you, however, as the memory card of the camera decided to error.
Here is a stock photo for your reference.
America and American Falls
Horseshoe Falls and Canada
With weary bodies after so much walking and excitement we shuffled back across to the USA, were re-admittted without drama, got an Uber home and had a nice cup of tea.