Niagara Do's and Don'ts

This is the first in a series of posts highlighting different aspects of embarking upon a cross-country trip.  Please remember this is my personal opinion. 

Do...get to the Falls early in the day, preferably in the morning, before the crowds arrive.  

Don't...let the area around the Falls get you down.  Just walk right on by the vendors hawking friendship bracelets and I love New York caps and t-shirts.  Enter the park with an open mind.  Stand against the railing by the Falls.  Experience the spray on your face and listen to the roar of the water.  Witness the rainbow that arches the mist, formed from the sun shining through the billions of water droplets.  Think of the power of the water and how it has carved this amazing masterpiece we can all experience.

Do...have a little fun.  And don't be a nature snob, like me.  My boys would have had a blast visiting Ripley's Believe it or Not museum.  (In my job as a school librarian, the Ripley's Believe it or Not books highlighting the off-beat and bizarre fly off the shelves.) Don a yellow rain poncho and venture along wooden walkways to visit The Cave of the Winds.  Sure, you'll be sharing the experience of getting soaked by the Falls with a gazillion other people, but your kids will think it's pretty damn cool - and you may as well.

Niagara Falls

After breakfast at The Hampton Inn in Bennington, Vermont - where the boys had the first of many make-your-own waffles feasts, this morning with Oreo cookie bits and maple syrup - we headed westward.  

The drive along the New York Thruway was beautiful and dull in equal measure.  Long stretches of farmland - cows and crops.  Tranquil in a boring sort of way.  We stopped at a rest area (also know as "travel plazas" in New York) where an Amish boy, about eleven or twelve, was selling local honey and berries and other items.  He wore the traditional Amish dress of men and boys: dark trousers, blue collared shirt, suspenders, brimmed straw hat.  As we stepped out of the car, I reached for my phone to take a picture, then I recalled learning on a long-ago trip to Pennsylvania Dutch Country that the Amish do not want their picture taken, so I put the phone away.  According to Discover Lancaster, a website for those visiting the Amish countryside in Pennsylvania, the Amish people do not want their photo taken because they "hold humility as a highly treasured value and view pride as a threat to community harmony."  In other words, they choose not to take part in our selfie-obsessed, post-what-we-had-for-lunch culture.  How refreshing.

Onto the Falls.  Even though I'd seen pictures of the falls,  I wasn't entirely sure what to expect as we approached.

"Ron, I think that's spray from the falls!  Look boys!  Look over there!  See that mist?  That's from the from the falls!"

It's an impressive sight, the spray from the falls emerging from a cluster of buildings towering in the distance.  

What was not impressive was the traffic.  Plotting out the trip, we didn't take into account the time of day we'd be arriving.  A Saturday at the end of June at 2:30 in the afternoon is not the best time to visit Niagara Falls if you are looking to do a little smooching with your darling at the once-proclaimed honeymoon capital of the world.

Look at all the people!

We approached the parking area just beyond this sign to find it full. We sat in a line of traffic.  Lots of stops and starts.  Lots of cars and buses.  Lots of  people crossing the street.  It reminded me of one of the parkways coursing through the suburbs of Boston at rush hour.  Not exactly the setting I was expecting to surround a great wonder of nature.

Traffic was diverted into the downtown area where we followed the car in front of us, also looking for a place to park.  Not a thing in this area would make you think there was a waterfall, or anything natural for that matter, within a hundred miles.  Ticky-tack abounds.  Flashing lights of casinos. Vendors selling all things Niagara:, key chains, t-shirts, baseball caps, shot glasses.   Duty free shops.  The Hard Rock Cafe.  Wax Museums.

Interestingly, this wax museum is one of three - yes, three - wax museums near the falls.  The other two, Movieland Wax Museum and Louis Tussaud's Wax Works, are on the Canadian side of the falls. Now why something as spectacular as Niagara Falls would need even one wax museum - or numerous haunted houses, a midway, and Ripley's Believe it or Not Odditorium - I cannot tell you.

Finally, we followed the crowd into a high-rise garage and parked.  Then we descended a questionable stairway to the street.

After walking past more shops and flashing lights, we got finally got to the state park.

Ron, Owen, and Josh, with the Canadian side of the falls in the background

Owen looking over the falls

It's amazing to think that each minute, 190,000 tons of water of water crashes over these falls - rushing, pounding, pure power  smashing onto large boulders.

Once you've visited the falls, it's easy to see why people are drawn here and how a crop of kitschy amusements could blossom, similar to mini-golf and skee-ball along beach boardwalks.  When I was a kid, a beach wasn't a beach without a boardwalk with shops selling floaties and boogie boards, kites and pails with attached shovels, fried dough and cotton candy, and an arcade with Space Invaders, pinball machines, and Zoltar the fortune teller in a glass case.

Would I make the trip again?  Yes, with a different mindset.  I would hang up high-minded, nature-woman mentality and channel my inner eight-year-old.  Go-cars, anyone?

First Stop - Bennington, Vermont

Let's call this a head start.  Ron arrived home from a full day's work to a (mostly) packed car, two anxious boys, and a wife more than ready to hit the highway.  Doors locked?  Check.  Windows closed?  Check.  A couple of lights on?  Check.  And off we go!

To get to our first stop, Bennington, Vermont, we meandered along one of the few east/west routes across New Hampshire, through bucolic Peterborough - the inspiration for the setting of Grover's Corners in Thorton Wilder's play, Our Town - then on through Keene, home of Keene State College, where just a slight jog off Route 101, you'll find the most charming half mile of coffee shops, dining al fresco, and hippie-dippie clothing stores.  Route 101 joins Route 9 after Keene, crossing the Connecticut River into Vermont, traversing the Molly Stark Byway from Brattleboro to Bennington, over the green mountains.

Below is an example of scenery we're used to in New England.  Lots and lots of trees, lots and lots of green.  (During the summer, that is.)

Did you notice anything about this clip, or more correctly, is there something you didn't notice?  I'll give you a few hints.  There are only four states that don't allow them along their highways and byways.  If you drive I-95 through North and South Carolina, you'll see over two hundred of them beseeching you to stop at a certain tourist trap piece of Americana (or should I say "Mexicana?").  When you drive through Vermont will need to Google the number of miles to the next McDonalds or Exxon station.  Give up?

Billboards!

There are no billboards on Vermont roads.  There haven't been since a law to ban them passed in 1968.  Very refreshing.

(For those of you who have never experienced traveling Route I-95 through the Carolinas, you really should if only to witness the 250 black, yellow, and orange signs placed strategically to entice bored children en route to the white-sand beaches and the land of The Mouse in Florida.   Featuring Pedro, a smiley sombrero and serape wearing Mexican dude, and catchy phrases like Chili Today-Hot Tamale! and You Never Sausage a Place!(You're Always a Weiner at Pedro's!), these signs have been luring families for generations to take exit 1B in South Carolina to South of the Border, a curiously Mexican-themed attraction that boasts an assortment of kiddie rides in Pedroland, a reptile lagoon, Camp Pedro, a 100-site campground, and a motor inn with a honeymoon suite.)

Go!

We're off!!

Get Set

So close, so close and yet so far...

The lyrics to Frankie Valli's My Eyes Adored You have been drifting through my head all day.  The trip is soooo close.  I can feel myself settling down in the passenger seat, pulling out of the driveway.

But not just yet.

We leave tomorrow afternoon.  The car is clean. (Thanks to Ron. You're the best!) Snacks are packed. The cooler has been muscled from the storage room.  The mail has been stopped.  Pet instructions have been given.  The remnants of food in our refrigerator are being eaten.  (Last night we had leftover baked potatoes shredded into hash browns with eggs.)  The to-do list is basically done.

But there is still another night to go.  And tomorrow during the day.  It's excruciating, the waiting.  I don't want to start any new projects (although there is plenty to do around here).  I was thinking about taking the boys to our local beach, but I also don't want to have to deal with sandy feet when the car is oh-so-clean.

Tomorrow will be all about last-minute details.   The boys desperately need haircuts.  Clean out the litter boxes and the rabbit hutch one last time.   Pack the car.  Don't forget toothbrushes!

I wish we could just get up and leave tomorrow morning, but Ron's working. (The poor guy!)  We decided rather than to wait until Saturday, we'd head out Friday and get a couple hours head start.  It's a good plan, but, oh, the waiting!

Now I've got Tom Petty stuck in my head.

The waaaaaiting is the hardest parrrrt...

Get Ready

For me, the fun of travel is in the planning. And boy, do I plan.  Just ask my husband, Ron.  He has witnessed my tunnel vision as I research a destination from every conceivable angle.

He has put up with the piles of travel books I take to bed with me to read.  The hours of Google searches.  Visiting travel blogs. Lurking message boards.  Not to mention the research that goes into finding the absolute best travel deals out there.  (I am a librarian, after all!)

This may sound as if we are a jet-setting kind of family.  Believe me, we're not.  In fact, we've only been on two big trips in the past eight years or so.  One to Disney and one to the Caribbean on a Disney Cruise.  But I milk these opportunities for all they're worth.  Have you seen what one of those Disney Cruises costs?  Yeesh! I was determined to get every last drop of enjoyment out of the whole experience even before we set sail.

This cross-country trip has been more than six months in the making.  On January 1, I called Yellowstone to make the arrangements to stay in the park.  Since then, there were so many details to be figured out.  What route should we take?   How long would we drive each day?  What stops should we make along the way?  Should we make hotel reservations in advance for our nights en route.  (We did.)

So I've had a half-year of anticipation building for this trip, my serotonin levels getting a boost every time I look at a Google map or make a hotel reservation.  (There is a study about how vacationers feel happier planning a trip than the actual traveling.  You can read a New York Times article about it here.)

 Ron has put me on notice - this will be it for a while.   We've got a home to take care of.  Repairs that have been put off to fund this trip.   Clapboards to replace and paint, a driveway to resurface, and numerous water leaks to fix.

And while we're doing all that, I'll be secretly planning for the next adventure.

Why roadtrip?

“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” 
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Oh, did you fly out there?" when I told people we visited Yellowstone.  Frankly, it never even occurred to me to fly.  The park is ginormous and in the middle of nowhere.  At some point you have to drive because the closest airport is an hour away and the only way around the park is by car (or tour bus, which we'll get to another day).

While flying was certainly an option, it doesn't have the allure of the road.  We would have missed something if we had just hopped on a plane in Boston then landed in Cody or Jackson.  By air, it's hard to fathom how large our country is.  Living in New Hampshire where we can be at the ocean in less than sixty minutes, to Boston in an hour, or the mountains in two, taking the better part of the day to drive across a single state is pretty wild.

On the road, you catch the nuances and eccentricities of each state, such as:


The tiny white churches which pop out of green expanses of prairie in the Great Plains.

Wall Drug signs on I-90 in South Dakota.  We counted 49.

And who doesn't dream of driving through the valley of the Jolly Green Giant?

We wanted the boys to experience some of the places they have learned about in school.  As we all know, it's one thing to read about how huge the Great Lakes are in a text book.  It's entirely another to actually dip your toes in.

I intended to write this blog while traveling, hunkering down with my laptop in the hotel room each night to recap each days events.  Since that didn't happen, what you're getting is part travelogue, part memoir, and part how-to, written while sitting at my kitchen island or maybe at the dining room table, wherever I can get a few minutes of quiet in our house during the remaining summer break.

Enjoy the ride.