Maid of the Mist

Brockport, New York – Chippawa, Ontario, via Niagara Falls

Diana and I have never crossed through this part of Canada before. 

There’s a good reason for that. 

We actually tried once. It was a little more than 34 years ago. Quite an epic journey. Diana had been living and working in California during the year between undergrad and med school. While she was there, she bought a Ford Escort from her cousin. She needed to get it out to Albany, where she would do her schooling, so I flew out there and we drove back together. 

(It bears noting that the Escort was a stick shift. Diana had to teach me to drive the thing while we were in San Francisco. Somehow our relationship survived that ordeal . . . The sad thing is that that was the worst car ever – totally not worth it . . .)

At the time, I had just graduated from college as well – so when we passed through Minneapolis I ended up buying my first car – an old Volkswagen Quantum. Loved that car. Everything was great about it – except that after a year or two the doors wouldn’t open. But that’s another story . . .

The point is that by the time we made it to Detroit – where we intended to cut through Canada on our way to Ithaca and Albany – we were in separate cars. 

We pull up to the border crossing. I was in front. I wave my driver’s license and they wave me through. (No passport or fancy ID needed at that time.)

I pull forward and then off to the side in order to wait for Diana. Diana pulls up, but after a few minutes she’s still sitting there. 

Must be some problem. 

I walk back to investigate. The border guard is not letting Diana through. 

“Ma’am, you have a car with California plates, you have a New York driver’s license with a Queens address, and you claim you are heading to Albany – but you have no documents showing an Albany address.”

”What?!?” I interject.

What followed was maybe not my best moment . . . I guess I decided to put my pre-law education to not-so-good use – with an overinflated sense of justice . . . 

“She’s an American citizen. You are just discriminating against her because she’s Chinese,” I say. 

“Sir, she doesn’t have proper identification . . .”

We go back and forth for a minute.

Until I say something to the effect of: “It’s not like Canada is really a different country anyway . . .”

That went over like a lead balloon. 

Not sure if he would have eventually relented, but once I made that brilliant comment the discussion was over . . .

We ended up having to drive back down through Ohio and Pennsylvania, and then back up into New York again. Probably added an extra four hours to our trip . . . 

And that’s why we’ve never been through this part of Canada before. 

But both of us had gone to Niagara Falls with our parents. Diana went as a young girl – one of two family vacations she remembers; the other was to Disney World in Florida. I went with my parents on our way out to Cornell before my freshman year. 

As with most things in our lives, Diana has a much better recollection than I do. She especially remembers the Maid of the Mist – the boat that takes you right up to the falls. I think it was a pretty big moment in their family life. 

I guess I’m lucky – because when you don’t remember things, you get to enjoy them like it’s your first time, even if you’ve been there before. That’s how it is with movies. And books. And definitely Niagara Falls. The whole experience was new for me. If I did the boat tour with my parents, I have absolutely no recollection of it. 

But I’m skipping ahead. 

Yesterday was our last day biking with Jon. We really enjoyed having him along for the week. Great energy. Always excited. And fun to laugh and chat as we went. 

A few notable events from the ride . . .

We started the day riding the Empire State Trail along the Erie Canal. Like all of these trails, it sounds great. No traffic. Flat. Easy to follow. But after 30 miles or so I think we were all ready to be done with it. It’s like riding a stationary bike for hours. No hills. No navigating. Gravel. Can you say, “boring!”

It’s kind of the biking equivalent of mall walking. Maybe some people like it, but not us . . .

We eventually decided to take the roads instead. More inspiring and fun. And more services. 

Like the ice cream parlor we eventually found. 

Now, this was no ordinary place. Turns out that for us this was the first ice cream shop that has had malts since last September. No malts in the American south. No malts in Mexico or Central America. Definitely no malts in South America. And, sadly, no malts in Europe. 

Even New York didn’t have malts – until yesterday. 

I LOVE malts. Frankly, I have no idea why there is such thing as a milk shake. I mean, it’s not even difficult – just add a little malt powder. 

And, after all, I am kind of an expert on malts, being that I was a soda jerk for a while during college. Or, more accurately, I was a bus boy/soda jerk. Probably the job that I was best at in my whole life. I could clear a table, deliver the dishes to the dishwasher, and make multiple malts and chocolate sodas all at the same time. The wait staff loved working with me because I always made them look good. 

I remember I was so good at the job that when I quit for the summer to go back to school, the manager, Herb, offered to pay me double if I would stay for the Uptown Art Fair weekend. How could I turn down the princely sum of $10/hour?

But I digress . . .

The point is that yesterday’s malt was amazing. Jon had one too. (Amazingly, Jon was a malt virgin. But I guess that’s what happens when you live most of your life in NYC!) They powered us all the way to Niagara Falls. (Of course, Diana doesn’t need no stinking malt – she just keeps humming along on some mysterious energy source . . . (We won’t know until after they examine her body when she dies – but I think it’s either nuclear power or some type of super advanced alien technology.)

And the other great thing about malts. Definitely another harbinger of our return to the very advanced civilization they call Minnesota. 

But I’m guessing you want to hear about the falls themselves. And rightly so. 

I guess I don’t know how I managed to forget the place. Niagara Falls are incredible. (“Is” or “Are”?) The sheer volume of water is mind boggling. By the looks of it, the Great Lakes should be empty in about ten minutes because there’s about a bazillion gallons of water going across the falls every second. I just don’t know where all this water is coming from. But I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves . . .

The other fun thing about the place …

It’s like a United Nations convention of ordinary people. In just a few hours we met people from Switzerland,

from China,

from Alaska,

from Saudi Arabia,

and from Romania.

Everyone wants to see Niagara Falls. And it’s just really well-done. Viewing platforms and walkways for everyone. I mean, you can pay to go up in a hot air balloon, or on the ferris wheel in Canada – but as far as I can tell there’s really no big benefit. It’s equal opportunity for everyone to enjoy!

You know what else was cool about Niagara Falls? It kind of tied together disparate parts of our trip. There was a big statue of Nikola Tesla.

No, he didn’t invent the electric cars. He’s much better than that. 

Tesla was a Serbian scientist who immigrated to the United States in the nineteenth century and made huge contributions to the understanding of electricity – including systems involving alternating current. I guess he designed the first hydro power system at Niagara Falls. 

Was fun to see statues of Tesla here after we had seen similar statues of him in the Balkans. 

The other highlight of the day was, of course, Tim Horton’s! We first realized what a global treasure this institution was when we biked to Toronto two years ago. The coffee. The French crullers. The bagel sandwiches. Even the tea is exemplary. 

I mean, there’s a reason Trump wants Canada. 

We’re looking forward to the next few days of donuts and java. Maybe we’ll slow down a bit just so we can savor the opportunity . . .

One sad thing . . . Jon didn’t get to enjoy the Canadian side of the Falls or go to Tim Horton’s. While Jon had an enhanced ID – and that is supposed to be sufficient – Jon was nervous that with Trump’s border policies, he would end up stuck in Canada. He really didn’t want to miss his 3 a.m. train back to New York – so he didn’t end up crossing with us . . . No worries though – Jon had a great time and, as far as we know, he was successful in getting back to the big city . . .

Finally, our campsite tonight. Maybe the best camping we’ve done on the whole trip. Big, spacious campsites. Fire pits. Easily collectible fire wood. Picnic tables. We even found a camp chair (which I am using right now!) and a bunch of firewood.

I guess there was no grill to cook on – but we found some skewer things that worked well. And I was pretty proud of the contraption I made to rest the grilled potatoes on . . . 

Find some green branches, remove the leaves, soak the branches in water, place them across the fire, and – just like that – there’s a (very temporary) grate to place the potatoes on. Granted, they eventually started on fire and burned away – but they did the trick. 

Excellent campfire dinner: grilled potatoes, grilled asparagus, lamb chops, and bag salad. 

A great way to end a great day. 

Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that we seem to be in the middle of a run of incredible late-September weather. Blue skies, 75 degrees, and almost no wind. (Don’t worry – I’m knocking on wood . . .)

Tomorrow we keep heading across this weird little section of Canada – and in a few days we’ll pop out into Michigan – someplace north of Detroit.