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