welfy because of this place.As a happy birthday commemoration to my journal, and for a walk down memory lane, I thought it might be fun to pick my 5 favorite journal entries ever and post one per day through the business week. Some of you may not have been around when they were originally posted and since they're my favorites, I think these are worthy of being recycled.
This first one is long, and at the time I posted it, I didn't have the ability to post images in-line with my text, so I've decided to re-edit it the way I would have liked to have posted it originally. Unfortunately, I had a really cheap digital camera at the time, so the quality of the photos isn't all that great. It's about my first visit to Niagara Falls, originally posted August 8th, 2003. If you feel this a bit too tl;dr for your attention span, may I at least encourage you to check out the final three paragraphs. It's for those three paragraphs that this is one of my favorite things I've ever posted here.
There's a reason for this. Niagara Falls is actually made up of three falls: American Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, and the Horseshoe Falls.
When I got out of the cab outside the Hard Rock Cafe on the U.S. side, I immediately headed toward the sound of rushing water and found myself soon standing at the edge of the American Falls. I stood there for a second, then headed straight for the bridge which spans the gorge into Canada. I have never been in Canada, so this would be a totally new experience for me and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I've always heard horror stories from people about how if you have the slightest infractions on a criminal record that you wouldn't be allow to enter the country, plus recently there's been the whole SARS thing. I was anxious that my 14 year old public intoxication charge would prohibit me from walking a few thousand feet into the Great White North for the day.
Getting hungry, I decided to walk some up into the commercial district and get some lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. Pasta with pesto and grilled veggies. It was rather good. I like going to Hard Rock Cafe's, if noting else, for gawking at the memorabilia and eying the bar maids lecherously. While waiting for my food I looked at all the guitars mounted on the walls and the stage costumes in their glass cases. While dining, I watched the videos on the TV screens. As an interesting note, I had never seen the video for "Radio, Radio", which is arguably my favorite Elvis Costello songs. The beginning of it begins with the old RKO Radio Tower clip and my first thought was, Rocky Horror Picture Show. Interestingly enough, immediately enough, after "Radio, Radio" they showed the "Time Warp" scene from RHPS. Man, am I a music nerd.
After eating I walked out of the restaurant and headed up onto Clifton Hill, which is the touristy part of the area apparently because, all I kept thinking the whole time as I headed further and further up the street was "Gatlinburg". If any one reading this has ever been to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, you know exactly what I'm talking about: trinket souveneir stores, "old tyme" picture studios where you can dress up in western wear, pancake houses, Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum, haunted houses, arcades, ice cream vendors, pizza by-the-slice shops, "4D adventure rides", Dinosaur putt-putt golf. It looked exactly like the main drag in Gatlinburg, minus the mountains in the background.
Canadian booty in hand, I descended down Clifton Hill and made my way back across the border. In U.S. Customs I had to again produce my driver's license which the officer used to pull up information about me on his screen. I had to state my citizenship, how long I was in Canada, where I lived, what my purpose was in Canada, what I had purchased while abroad and was bringing back with me, who my employer was, etc.
I debated on leaving just then, but decided I might as well see the rest of the American side. I'm glad I did. While the best view may be had from the Canadian side and while there is certainly more things to do in terms of entertainment on the other side of the gorge, in my opinion, the best experience to be had is on the American side. Visiting the rest of the park on the American side further bolstered my opinion of the way our country and states handle their natural/historical parks - and I've been to quite a few. There is a conscious effort to protect them from the encroachment of commerce and industry us much as is reasonably possible. Despite the power of the almighty dollar, lawmakers along with conservancy groups have done a wonderful job preserving, protecting, restoring and maintaining our natural and historic treasures. As I wandered across the foot bridge onto Goat Island, I began to appreciate this. Only a couple of hours ago I was walking along a sidewalk overlooking the gorge with its waterfalls mere feet from honking, stinking traffic. While the city of Niagara Falls, New York was certainly all around me - you sure couldn't tell. The park is set off from the nearest roadway by at least 150 yards. One small road does lead onto Goat Island to the restaurant there, but it doesn't provide any means for "thru traffic", so what traffic there is, is slight. And quiet, no buses except for the trolleys which run through on compressed propane - they're quieter than your average automobile.
Goat Island sits off the mainland in the stream of the Niagara River, but not by much. This small stream which is cut from the river by Goat Island is further cut again by Luna Island, which is was creates the three falls. Once on Goat Island, you can take another small bridge onto Luna Island and stand at an observation point that is between American and Bridal Veil Falls. Goat Island got its name from a former owner who lost all of his livestock on that island one winter, except for a stubborn, solitary goat. Luna Island got its name from "the old days". Before the massive amount of electric light that came into the area, one used to be able to view "moonbows" over the island at night. During full moons, the light created ghostly bows of light in the mist generated from the American Falls.
Unfortunately, the view of the Horseshoe Falls is not nearly as dramatic as it is from the Canadian side. The mist plumes rising out of the gorge makes for a fuzzy, hazy viewing experience. I sat on the knoll and watched the people walking around. The sounds of children laughing mixed with the roar of the rushing water. I smoked a cigarette and rested there, my legs stretched out, one hand propped up behind me in the cool grass. I watched the mist as it rose so amazingly high, nearly obscuring the skyline of hotels across the gorge, almost blocking them out. Maybe it's not so unfortunate after all.
I made my way out of the park up into the city. Things were very quiet. A girl sat all alone looking bored in the souveneir shop she was tending. It was beginning to get dark and the trees which lined the streets and sidewalks were filled with dim, electric light. I passed by an open-air mall lined with restaurants, shops, and street vendors. The smoky odor of cooking food filled the air and everywhere people mingled. Music poured out of a night club at the other end of the strip mall, but otherwise everything was quiet, serene even. The atmosphere was like, well, it reminded me of camp. I know that sounds crazy, but it had the atmosphere of those long evenings at summer camp as a kid. People were laughing and enjoying themselves, but it wasn't rowdy or rambunctious. The affection of friends, lovers, and families was almost tangible, blowing through the trees with the summer breeze. I half expected to turn a corner and find a bonfire glowing on s'mores covered mouths singing Kumbaya.
I found the Hard Rock Cafe nearby, which was where I was to meet J.C. when I called him. I decided to go inside just to check out the memorabilia before calling. Blur's "Song 2" was blasting over the speakers as their video flickered on the overhead monitors. I'm sure I made at least a couple of audible wooo-HOO!'s as I looked at an old Hendrix Fender and Johnny Rotten's plaid bondage pants. The atmosphere was much more like that of other Hard Rock Cafes I had been in around the country. Feeling it now, it occurred to me that it had been lacking on the other side of the gorge. It may have been simply because it was now night... or maybe because across the gorge it was just more "touristy". But whatever the reason, I couldn't help but smile when the waiter began to shout: loud ...so loud... loud enough to be heard over the din of the song pumping through the speakers and loud enough to be heard over the clinking of forks against dishes and loud enough to be heard over the packed restaurant all talking at once and... quite possibly, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the mighty Niagara itself. Standing beside him on a chair was a young girl with straight brown hair and huge blue eyes. Her mouth was crinkled into the gawky, metallic smile of a teenager, beside herself with embarrassment as the waiter proceeded to announce to everyone that it was her birthday. With a one and a two and a three on the waiter's lead everyone shouted a rousing "Happy Birthday" followed by applause. As cornball as it may be, it's those brief moments that, even in a room full of strangers, you feel like part of a larger community. It doesn't matter where in the country or where in the world you're from. It doesn't matter what you do for a living, what you drive, who you fuck, or what your politics are. For that moment you're simply a part of the human spirit where the blushed face of a girl is just as powerfully moving as any dumb old waterfall.
The entire set of photos I took that day, as poor quality as they are, can be found in my Gallery.
this is my personal favourite:
http://www.worksongs.com/archives/2006/11/dear_mom_i_fina.php
happy birthday, soopageek.livejournal.com!
In any one else looking at this comment cares, I have Andrew's photography syndicated on LiveJournal, at
I love the recent ones of Greece.
Thanks for the invitation. One of these days I may just take you up on it. :)
You guys have way too much freakin' snow for this Southern man, though. Brrrrr.
you should try snowmobiling up here. it is a blast.
by the way, that last photo of you looks like Communist propaganda. probably intentional, you filthy commie bastard.
In those days they gave you rubber boots instead of sandals. Wet and stinky, pre-visited by many, many feet before yours. Delicious!
Sometimes when I go to historic tourist places like that, there are all sorts of stories about things they used to do for tourists that were just insanely dangerous that they couldn't get away with now, or something has structurally changed that has just made it impractical, or conservancy efforts to protect it have made it cease... and it always makes me wish I could've been around during that era to at least have seen it, if not done it myself.
It's cool that you have the sort of experience from Niagara that's not possible any more. I can't think of any similar experience I have at some major attraction that is like that. I'm envious. :)