wa-ter-fall

waterfall: (n) a steep fall or flow of water in a watercourse from a height, as over a precipice.

Monday morning began later than I hoped it would. Therefore I elected to surpass Buffalo and drive straight to Niagara Falls which was indeed a great decision.

Car parked in the visitor lot, I slung my camera over my shoulder, stuffed my water canteen into my bag next to a granola bar, and set off to explore. As with many destinations along this journey, this was my very first visit to Niagara Falls. How I have lived 24 years without experiencing it before, I cannot comprehend. The entire day I was dumbfounded by the beauty that surrounded me and the awesome power of the water that raged over the edge, just meters from my feet. Often times a moment or vista would be so overwhelming I would become paralyzed, frozen in a stare exactly where I stood. After returning from my trans, but before moving on, I was sure to photograph EVERYTHING and with the help of a few friendly strangers was able to capture my own presence at the falls. Occurrences such as these consumed a significant amount of my already shortened afternoon. Fortunately I made it to every landmark on the New York side of the falls. This does not include all of the tourist gimmicks. Though I do imagine them to be a great way to experience the falls, they are most definitely not necessary, especially on a first visit. I suppose I could say the same about crossing over to Canada. The U.S. side of the falls has plenty to offer. That, and I fell short on time, which is perhaps the reasoning behind this argument. Truth be told, I have also never been to Canada. Again, how I have lived 24 years of life, in Michigan for that matter, and never crossed the northern border is beyond me. But worry not, Vancouver is on the itinerary for the west coast trip.

The bright colors in the sky indicated a setting sun, which was my cue leave to falls. There was one more journey into unfamiliar territory to be made today and I was not intending to make that journey in the dark. Regrettably, I continued north to 4 Mile Creek State Park in northern New York on the shores of Lake Ontario. Without reservations, I pulled into the park office lot and was greeted with locked doors but a poster of sorts indicating open campsite for the night. The sun was low on the horizon but still shed enough light for me to find a prime location and set up camp. My stomach reminded me that a bagel for breakfast and a granola bar for lunch was hardly satisfactory. Quickly, I weighted down the tent with my sleeping bag and duffle before driving off, yet again, in search of food.

In the one-blinking-red-light town of Youngstown, New York, I walked into the first, and possibly only, local diner. There was an open table next to the window overlooking the river to the west where I sat myself. Exhausted and starving, I quickly ordered the Greek Burger. Sitting alone at a restaurant, and an unfamiliar one at that, was another new experience for me and surprisingly enjoyable. Without the distraction of a companion sitting across the table from me, I was able to understand the presence of the company I was in. A feeling of home swept over me, even though I was literally hundreds of miles away from my actual home, and with that my dinner had arrived. It was quite possibly the greasiest burger I have ever eaten in my life, but I hoped the amount of acid gurgling in my stomach before the meal would counteract that.

By the time I returned to my tent the sun had set and left behind streaks of pinks and purples which I was too drowsy to enjoy. And by 8:30 I was sound asleep. It really is a shame I did not turn off my cell phone before collapsing onto my pillow, because when it went off 2 hours later I may as well have downed a pot of coffee. Though the night was beautiful and camping so peaceful, it was nearly 3 in the morning before my eyes closed again. At some point during the night the wind picked up to speeds that would have blown my tent into Lake Ontario had I not been sleeping in it. My tent was on the verge of imploding on me around 8 a.m., by then sleep was hopeless. Hope the chocolate covered espresso beans from Philip last me the next 7 hours to Poultney, Vermont!