Monday, May 23rd
The first 10 miles of this morning were the toughest of the whole week. I woke up too early with not enough sleep, forcing myself out early since I’d camped in a slightly more prominent position.
Each pedal stroke felt like twice the effort of the previous evening. I was cycling soon after 6 and my figure cast a long shadow on the path in front of me as the sun rose behind, but it moved slowly.
I aimed for Lockport, about 12 miles away. I exited the canal with a few miles remaining hoping some time on the road would wake me up slightly. I’m not sure it did but I did run into Oliver, a cyclist heading in the opposite direction, which I was glad for. We both turned back and spoke for a while and I began to wake up. He had a trailer instead of carrying all his stuff on the bike like most people and we swapped bikes for a bit to see how they handled. I gave him my details and would be in touch if I needed a place to stay in his hometown of Akron, Ohio.
I stopped at Tom’s diner in Lockport and had the same breakfast I’d had for the past three days. I would need to start exploring the menus a little more. It wasn’t a great place. It felt like a bad English version of an American diner despite its location. But the bacon was excellent.
My plan was to spend two nights in Niagara Falls / Buffalo. I didn’t have anything booked and was still too tired to make up my mind. I stopped at some services a few miles out of Lockport and forced a decision. I booked one night at a hostel in Niagara and then would try and find something in Bufalo – perhaps using Couchsurfing, the following day. Buffalo, though a more appealing place to stay, would be a detour now and though I was braced for the town of Niagara to be void of nothing but Planet Hollywoods and waddling idiots buying t-shirts and fridge magnets, being close to the falls would make things easier.
I continued on the route 31 toward Canada, stopping at Resevoir State Park before hitting the edge of the falls and following the cycle trail along to the Rainbow Bridge where I’d cross.
The first view of the falls, or the water at the bottom, was pretty spectacular, particularly after days spent along the shallow flat and calm water of the canal. The water here was emerald or turquoise in colour and glowed in the sun as it moved.
I stopped to look and starting speaking to a guy who had grown up in buffalo but lived in Texas for 30 years, now he comes back every year or two to visit. He wore a light yellow polo shirt, jeans and aviator sunglasses and spoke a little like Steve Buscemi. He asked me about my trip and produced 10 dollars just ‘for the heck of it’. I thanked him graciously and carried on around the perimeter of the falls.
By accident I found the entrance to the ‘Maid of the Mist’ boat tour. Since I was there I decided to do it. I locked my bike and spoke to a security guard which reassured me the panniers and everything would be safe.
From an observation deck I got my first proper look at some of the waterfalls. Clouds of mist blew up in the air and seagulls swooped through them. 200 ft below the deck people boarded the boat. Being on the American side the boat issued blue rain ponchos, where as the Canadaian boat provided red ones. I watched the small blue dots as they slowly lined the edges of the boat before it departed.
A little later I went on the boat myself. I was still too tired to process much but the power of the falls was impressive and I enjoyed the water which flew across the deck of the boat, probably more than others since I hadn’t had a shower in about 5 days. Everyone looked ridiculous in their ponchos, including, i’m sure, myself. The boat went close to the falls so you got wet (hence the poncho) then backed off, turned around and went back.
My bike and things were still there when I came back, after exiting, without choice, though the gift shop.
I continued to the Rainbow Bridge and began to cross into Canada. I paid a 50 cent toll and queued up amongst cars on the Canadian side of the bridge. The border agent on the gate asked abrupt one or two word questions and my passport was stamped within half a minute. Hopefully coming back in to the states will be that easy.
The hostel was in a deadend part of town. Everything was either shut or closed down completely. I showered and washed my clothes. Later I headed into the town center which was just as I expected, it was like Hollywood boulevard or how I imagine parts of Vegas to be. The aesthetics of tourism and greed.
I headed back to the now appealing quiet end of the town and ate dinner at a sports bar which had basketball playing silently on at least 10 different TVs mounted at carefully selected angles on the wall. Young waitresses served fried food to aging men with poor choices in facial hair, tattoos, and probably many other things. A classic rock station played loudly, Peter Frampton, and Blue Oyster Cult. I’d missed being in bars and it was the first drink I’d had in a week. This one at least, I felt, I’d earned.
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