Despite how often we all use the cliché, I imagine there are very few things in the world that could figuratively, much less literally, take my breath away with their mere presence. And right up to this exact point in my life, nothing ever had.
You don’t see them. You don’t feel them. You hear them before anything else. A muffled roar and faint rumble that are far enough away to sound innocuous but close enough by to aggravate your senses with anticipation. Even a couple of miles away from them, the air is cooler, crisper, light with water-whipped wind and just a little wet t. So littered with evidence is the approach that it seems at any minute I will run smack into the legendary Niagara Falls.
Nestled between Ontario, Canada and New York state, Niagara is one of the world’s most famous waterfalls, or set of falls, more accurately. I visited the Canadian side, which is reputed to have the best view of the falls, while the American side supposedly has the best access to them. As mesmerized as I would eventually be by encountering the falls themselves, I was equally charmed by the host town of the same name. I parked the rental car for free in Niagara Falls, Canada, a quaint, Main Street style downtown surrounded by residential and tourist-catering homes.
A two mile walk above the Niagara River took me past more B&Bs than any one town should rightfully have. I imagined that each one promised views of the falls, even though they were far off in the distance. Still, the lush river surroundings, rush of the distant water and vintage architecture would have made for a pleasant Honeymoon or long weekend getaway.
Bad news: almost without warning, the pleasant, old-fashioned-ness of it all came to a sharp halt when a host of recreational businesses, restaurants, hotels and the local casino sprang up to the right of the river. Among them the Skylon Tower, a kind of obligatory observation monument á la the Space Needle or CN Tower. Good news: the falls were close. I could see Buffalo in the distance, the Rainbow Bridge behind and Horseshoe and American Falls within sight. From there, my imagination carried me.
I walked the overlook end-to-end, took countless photos, paid to boat close to them on the river surface and recorded their flow and sounds. And the whole time, all I could think of was how the first people who encountered it must have felt. Imagine exploring uncharted territory, only to hear the mighty rumble miles off. Imagine knowing something awaited you far off, being too curious to turn away until finally seeing the rushing water peek out over the horizon. Their eyes would have widened, incredulous. Their hearts would have fastened with fear and wonder. Their minds would have raced with shock that such a vision existing and would have tensed trying to figure who or what put it there.
I might have been the billionth person to see Niagara Falls, but as I chugged toward the twin pooling falls on the Hornblower ferry I swear I felt exactly the same as the first person to see them. Not the method natives or settlers would have used, but it was well worth the $20 to crowd around the edges of the boat and feel the same water, the same wind and the same sun. It’s impossible to explain the rush of the water, how it looks and sounds deceptively calm on approach and increasingly aggressive the closer you get. The sweet mist, too, increases to a violent, wet veil the nearer the falls are, coating every surface and pour with their
I don’t think you can witness thousands of cubic feet of water first rolling flat toward a cliff and then continuously crush down below without mercy and not feel awe-struck. You can’t feel the splash of the falls on your face from 50 feet away and not be overwhelmed by the sheer power of them. They took my breath away; for a few seconds at a time anyway.
Every time I felt absorbed in the moment, in the place, someone’s selfie-stretched hand would block my view or voice would interrupt my fantastical inner voice. Whether on the boat or on the promenade, finding a spot to take a good photo was more than difficult due to the thousands of fellow onlookers. And despite the audible strength of the falls, the total sensory experience was slightly dulled by a muddle of traffic and commercial hawkers and the nonstop conversation of my fellow human citizens.
Now, I never claimed not to be a hypocrite. As I was a camera-lugging, selfie-taking tourist myself, I understand the irony in criticizing my own kind but the natural splendor of it all was nearly ruined by the volume of people, and the surrounding commercialization. I wondered what it would be like to instead have hiked the two miles through a more virgin landscape and how my awe might have been even more magnified. How incredible that people of the past just felt it and had no means to record it.
A source of regional hydro-electric power, the commercial role of Niagara Falls has long gone far beyond tourism. In fact, many decades ago the location was nearly dominated by utilities for use as a pure energy source. Perhaps I should be grateful that I’m able to see the falls at all. But, call me crazy, rather than the convenience of a towering hotel overlooking a sight to see, I wish more of us would demand the reality of the sight itself.
Beautiful, rare things always have and always will draw people and people always have and always will draw capital, so I understand that nowadays, almost every natural attraction is a money-making compromise between the miraculous and the manufactured. Even if that must be so, shouldn’t we at least communally regret it? For every Yosemite that’s been largely preserved to its original state, there’s a Grand Canyon West Skybridge that threatens to turn a world natural treasure into a Ripley’s exhibit. I’m not really sure what I expect to be done about this phenomenon. I guess I just wish each of us would be aware that our family vacations aren’t just for consuming incredible places, but ideally for engaging with them and we can’t do that when skyscrapers, McDonald’s and each other crowd the way.
I went to be inspired and I was. But it wasn’t without effort. Having an honest Niagara Falls experience required that I tune out the other people and the unnatural places that hoarded around me, vying to steal my attention away from the main attraction. I wanted to feel it the way it was in the final Ice Age or in 1700 or sometime before the world descended and people like me greedily spied on its naked flows. I’ve missed any chance of that, so I’m contented to live forever in my mind’s eye, with tons of photos and videos to keep my imagination fueled. Funny that modern technology is really my only way to approximate an ancient past that would never have been mine to know in the first place. Go figure.