Exploring Niagara Falls from different viewpoints

A full rainbow forms in the mists churned up by Niagara Falls

What happens when you explore in (more or less) your ‘own backyard’?

You find amazing things that have been around much longer than you thought, and new attractions that celebrate history.

Niagara Falls, the longtime honeymoon cliche that was made even more famous by two movies, Niagara (1953), starring Marilyn Monroe, and Superman II (1980), is a natural wonder that has been reinventing itself for almost 11,000 years. At that time, the Horseshoe Falls, the largest of the three falls in the cluster, and which forms the border between Canada and the U.S., was about six miles downstream, stretching between the towns of Queenston on the Canadian side and Lewiston on the U.S. side. and started as a small arch.

Today those falls are a large curve 2,590 feet wide, tossing 85,000 cubic feet of water over the edge every second (on average). The cities that overlook the spectacle, both named after the falls, are thriving tourist meccas, and most people who live in easy driving distance, at least on the Canadian side, tend to avoid the area in peak tourist season because the traffic slows to a crawl. On our side, the city is a mix of party town, attractions ranging from cool to cheesy, decent restaurants, and some beautiful old homes (many of which have been turned into B&Bs). The falls themselves are surrounded by hotels, eateries and casinos, so it’s hard to get a sense of what they must have looked like when their full natural beauty could be appreciated.

But, like most tourist destinations, there are ways to see the sights that are more authentic. It’s fun to walk beside the falls, watching the water churn over like gallons upon gallons of green gelatin and getting damp from the far-reaching spray, but to truly appreciate the falls you need to see them from other points of view.

One of those is the White Water Walk, a boardwalk with viewing platforms right along the edge of the Niagara River below the falls, crashing and rushing through Class 6 rapids.

From 1876 to 1934 these views were accessible by a steam-powered incline railway. In 1934 the railway was destroyed by a fire. The Niagara Parks Commission leased the land to a private company, Niagara Concessions, and this enterprise built a 230-foot elevator shaft down to the floor of the valley the river cuts through, along with a 240-foot tunnel to get closer to the river through the rainforest-like profusion of trees and ferns that line the river banks. A boardwalk was built, but was frequently damaged by the raging waters and winter ice floes. However, in the mid 1900s a weir was built above the falls to control the flow for the power plants on either side of the border, and the lowered water flow allowed for a new boardwalk to be built.

I can only say that, if the pounding water that we saw when we did the White Water Walk recently is the reduced version of the river’s flow, the original flow must have been truly ferocious.

The boardwalk runs for 1/4 of a mile and is an easy walk. Good walking shoes or sandals are all that’s needed; there’s no spray from the water to worry about.

Take time to notice the lush vegetation on the other side of the boardwalk, like a scene out of 10,000 Years B.C.

Remnants of the old boardwalks are still visible, rusted monuments to our fascination with this magical piece of nature.

But the water is the biggest attraction, as it rides roughshod over everything in its path, like a green monster on a rampage. The colour of the water is a result of the dissolved salts and powdered rock dust that fills it.

The water is mesmerizing. Allow yourself some time to just watch it leap, curl, dive and crash its way through the chasm. There are viewing platforms that jut out from the boardwalk in a couple of places, allowing you to get even closer to the river (they’re not wheelchair accessible).

It didn’t take people long to realize what a fabulous source of power the falls presented. In 1892 the Niagara Falls Power Company began construction of the Edward Dean Adams Power Plant.

It was the first large-scale alternating current generating plant in the world, Westinghouse Electric built the 5,000 horsepower generators, which were based on designs by Nikola Tesla and Benjamin Lamme, an American electrical engineer.

What a fantastic and exciting enterprise that must have been. Touring the historic power plant today gives a small idea of the mammoth amount of construction, particularly walking through the 2,200-foot long, brick-lined tunnel that discharged the used water back into the Niagara River. It was excavated by lantern-light, using only shovels, pickaxes and dynamite. The new Tunnel attraction takes you from the floor of the plant, down and down in a glass-walled elevator, past the huge pipes and turbines, to the floor of the tunnel, where you can follow a self-guided excursion all the way to the river and the edge of the Horseshoe Falls.

The tunnel is huge, at least 12 to 15 feet wide, and maybe thirty feet high (just my own estimates, I haven’t been able to find actual stats), and runs for half a mile. Imagine the massive amount of water rushing through there in the plant’s heyday. The new floor is damp from water seepage, but textured enough that it’s not slippery. Thick walls and a depth of 180 feet below ground keep the air inside quite chilly, and the walk, if you want to read all the fascinating information kiosks, is long, so don’t go in shorts and a tank top.

If you don’t rush through to get to the prize at the end, where the tunnel opens up to the roar of the falls (as we saw some people do), you’ll notice interesting things like the funky trumpet-shaped fungi growing right out of the walls.

An arch of glowing daylight marks the end of the tunnel…

…and a unique view of all three falls (Horseshoe below), as well as the intrepid boats that take poncho-shrouded, awe-struck visitors as close to the base of the thundering waters as it’s safe to go. We did the boat ride several years ago, and the power of the falls has to be seen to be believed; if you’re visiting, the ride is one thing you absolutely shouldn’t miss.

Across the river, you can watch visitors on the American side get their own close-up views from the top of the Horseshoe Falls, while rainbows form in the mists at the bottom…

…and along platforms near the base of Bridal Veil Falls and the American Falls.

One could easily, if it were available, spend an entire afternoon on the viewing platform, sipping drinks at a riverside table. Unfortunately, the platform would fill up quickly that way, but you can linger as long as you want. There’s much to be seen back up in the power plant, however, if, as I am, you’re fascinated by vintage machinery and architecture. You can walk around by yourself, poking around at your leisure, or take a guided tour.

There is an excellent gift shop as well, filled with well-thought out electricity-themed goods, not kitschy tourist junk.

I also recommend that you come back at night for the new sound-and-light show, Currents, which with wonderful light effects, music and narration tells the story of water and the power it has generated at Niagara Falls for over 100 years.

The interior space of the power plant is turned into an immersive, interactive journey. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

When patterns are projected onto the floor, you can even walk and jump around to make them follow your movement (kids in the audience, and quite a few adults, really got into that). There are a handful of benches that you can sit on if you need to be more sedentary.

The falls in Niagara aren’t the only wonder to behold — people’s ingenuity at creating an enduring source of power that feeds much of Ontario and New York State, as well as innovative ways to appreciate Nature’s artistry, have highlighted the core of what makes Niagara Falls special.

All photos are by me, and all rights are reserved. These photos may not be reproduced without my express permission. E. Jurus

Step away from your screen(s)

An African sunset, truly magical

Since March 2022 I’ve been a local explorer. During the autumn preceding the COVID pandemic, my hubby and I had visited Ireland, and over the December holidays we’d spent time with a relative outside Nashville, TN, so at least we had those under our belts to hold us while we waited to see how the global disease was going to play out.

Some of our friends and relatives decided to travel outside the country, bucking the requests and advice of our government; we chose to stay within our province for the greater good. So if you’ve been following this blog during that time, you’ll have seen memories from all the local adventures I’ve been embarking on. On those journeys, there has been so much history and local culture to discover, and plenty of local beauty as well. Most of my, and our, best moments have happened out and about.

We have spectacular ornamental cherry blossoms in our area each spring, but hardly anyone goes out to see them

I was intrigued to see what advice a 100-year old traveller – someone who’s reached a milestone most of us never will – would have to offer, in a recent article posted on AFAR Magazine, and wasn’t really surprised to see that it dovetails with my own philosophy.

Both Deborah Szekely and I (and most of my friends) grew up in the decades before smartphones, tablets or even the internet existed. We had no other option than to really embrace the world around us and be in the moment all the time. It was a great time to travel, sometimes by the seat of our pants, and without the benefit of GPS, online city guides, or any kind of convenient app. That meant that we had to think on our feet, pay attention to our surroundings and form our own opinions.

Now, I see all kinds of travellers with their faces buried in their screens, completely missing what’s going on around them. They base their choices on the opinions of influencers who offer no guarantee that they know what they’re talking about, and often present false fronts on their media sites. People destroy popular tourist sites so they can take a photo of themselves looking cool, thus being a general nuisance and often ruining the site for any visitors that try to come after them.

This beautiful iris in the cloud forest of Peru only blooms one day a year; exploring by myself, I was the only person in our tour group to see it

According to the article about Szekely, her philosophy is “to find our own inner peace by looking away from our screens and immersing ourselves in the beauty of the world. And sometimes, the best antidote to doom scrolling is by going on a walk—not on the treadmill, but in nature—and by focusing our awareness on the birds and other wildlife around us, we’ll find “all kinds of answers.” “ 1

Building on that, if you look through history, political clashes come and go and the human race goes on. Devastating epidemics have occurred over the centuries – the Black Death killed 75–200 million people in Eurasia and North Africa, the Spanish Flu anywhere from 17 million to possibly 100 million worldwide – and humanity survived those with far less medical advances than we have today. Many people are working hard to save species and our planet.

Things you see on the side of the road deep in the African bush: an elephant refreshing itself in the hot afternoon sun

It’s important for us to stay informed enough to remain safe, but not to drive ourselves crazy with it. Conspiracy theories count on fear to help them spread, but wouldn’t you rather feel good about life and stop worrying that everyone’s out to get you? Sure, there’s bad in the world, but there’s a lot of good also, and that’s the kind of news I want to look at.

My advice builds on what Szekely has to say: stop living your life through an electronic device. Get out and actually live! The world is still very beautiful and there are plenty of wonderful people in it. But you’ll only experience all of that when you look up. Go someplace, see what it has to offer without any preconceived ideas, and make up your own mind about it. Learn to rely on your own opinions and judgements. Travel locally or travel abroad, safely and with full awareness of where you are. And then let me know what you found 😊

Look up, look down, look all around — you’ll be amazed at what you see

All photos are by me and all rights reserved. E. Jurus

1After Living, Traveling, and Learning Her Way to 100, Deborah Szekely Has Some Advice for You, byChloe Arrojado for AFAR Magazine, May 10, 2022, www.afar.com/magazine/wellness-tips-from-100-year-old-legend-deborah-szekely

It’s alive!

Cyclamen?

Our local weather has been completely conflicted as March draws to a close, flipping from snow and hail to balmy spring temperatures and back to cold again within 24 hours spurts. The other day I snuck out on one of the good days to my favourite botanical garden to look for any signs of life among the often dismal days that have comprised our early spring so far. What I found was far more than I expected: myriad brave flowers lifting my spirits as they lifted their heads to the fickle sunlight.

I expected to see a few stalwart snowdrops, but there were hundreds of them bursting out all over the lawns and organized gardens
The rhododendrons were already readying their flower buds
All kinds of crocus were sprayed across the lawns; this blue variety was especially lovely
These look like daffodil stalks; their vibrant green shoots poking out of the drab soil just made me smile
The netted iris, which I hadn’t seen before, were absolutely breathtaking
Hellebores in the Woodland Garden were out in all their ruffly spring dress
A pair of glorious yellow crocus also made an appearance in the Woodland Garden
Crinkly yellow witch hazel flowers glowing against one of our rare sunny blue skies lately
In the meantime, the local horticultural students have been busy preparing the flower beds for their spring plantings

If you’ve also been waiting impatiently for signs of spring, I hope these photos cheer you up as much as the real-life versions did me 🙂

Jekyll and Hyde – the two faces of the spillway at 3rd Canal Lock 22

What a difference four weeks made in our ongoing exploration of the Welland Canal in all of its iterations. The canal system in use today — version 4 — is shut down every winter when the ice comes in, roughly early January to mid-March. The waters are drained and maintenance work commences. If you’ve wondered what our engineering marvel looks like when it’s not full of water, the photo above shows you. It’s essentially a large dirt ditch, not nearly as glamorous or picturesque as it is during shipping season, when boats large and small use the only marine pathway linking Lakes Ontario and Erie. Below you can see a completely empty lock — this one at the Port Weller bridge and dry docks.

During the winter more of the older Third Canal sections and locks become visible, revealed by low water levels and bare forest surrounds. Two weeks ago, crunching our way through thick snow that was crusty on the surface but getting soft underneath, every other footstep became a wrestling match with the deep pit our boots had sunk into.

Old walls lay exposed, as well as the bottom of parts of the old canal. Geese took the opportunity to stroll across thin layers of ice and snow until they reached patches of swimmable water.

To the right, not visible in the photo above, the walls of old Lock 21 stretched. The footing was so treacherous, though, that I couldn’t get photos of everything. Below, we’re looking at the deteriorating walls of Lock 22; in the water, wood debris suggests part of one of the old lock gates, but I don’t know that with any certainty.

According to the Historic Welland Canals Mapping Project (HWCMP), some of old Lock 22 was repurposed as a water diversion channel for the current Canal, not far from the Thorold Tunnel, where one of the main transportation arteries in Niagara runs crosses the Canal by running underneath it. In early March, the water below the spillway that diverts overflow from the Lock (to the best of my knowledge — details about how the modern canal is filled and emptied have been really difficult to find) was serene under grey skies.

Fast forward just a couple of weeks, after early spring weather finally made an appearance, and the Welland Canal has been filled in advance of its March 24th reopening this year.

The old canal section and its surrounding reservoirs have a new look. In the upper ‘lake’, the ice is breaking up and launching small floes down toward the weir that feeds the spillway.

The geese can swim about freely between the walls of the old canal.

Trails, such as they are in this area, have dried and offer a pleasant walk on a mild spring day. No idea what this interesting yellow framework was once a part of.

Trees are thick along the banks, but today’s adventure was good timing — the lack of leaves allowed a glimpse of old Lock 21’s walls in the distance.

We were also able to get closer to the edge of the cliffs lining Lock 22, where the noise of rushing water filled the air and the green-tinged water started showing signs of froth.

The water grew increasingly rougher as we continued toward the mouth of the spillway.

There’s a side channel that was flowing swiftly over the west wall of the canal, which apparently has deteriorated from the infiltration of roots reaching from the woods through which the canal runs. The water joined the flow from the spillway to create a wildly churning and rushing mass of water that created its own mist.

As we approached the spillway, the ferocity of the released water was stunning. I took a video clip of it, but for some reason it won’t download to my laptop. (If any of my readers have a remedy for getting a Windows computer to recognize an MTS or MP4 file from a Sony Cybershot — not sure which as I can’t even pull up the video file — I’d very much appreciate hearing it! No luck finding a solution online.)

Below you’ll see the actual spillway. The sight was mesmerizing; we could have watched it for hours. The photo gives you a small idea of the power of the flip side of the waters of the Welland Canal — fascinating, and hazardous if you’re not careful.

When the Seaway puts up signs like these, it’s obvious why they mean business. Should you go exploring in the area, please do heed their warnings, so you can enjoy but still stay safe!

All photos by me, and all rights reserved. Also, a heads-up that I’ll be changing this blog to an every-other-week format so that I can devote more time to my new author blog, Roads’ Guide to the Galaxy 🙂 I hope you enjoy both.

Ice-capades

This week our area experienced a rare day above freezing temperatures — the sunny afternoon raised the temperature as high as 11 degrees C (almost 52 degrees F). It was practically imperative that we get outside and enjoy the break in what’s been an unusually snowy and chilly winter for our region.

Meeting my hiking buddy at Morningstar Mill, we donned hiking boots with deeply-treaded soles for our adventure. First up, a walk around the mill grounds to see the Decew Falls, currently in a spectacular state between thick towers of ice and lacy sprays of thawed water.

The falls drop about 70 feet into a wide bowl-shaped gorge. Standing beside the falls, we could see groundwater that had seeped through the layers of sedimentary rock on the opposite side, only to freeze into massive icicles as it emerged into the cold air.

We walked the trail that runs from Decew House farther down the road, along Moodie Lake, which feeds the Decew Falls Generating Station, and through the woods back to the Mill.

Although much of the ground is still covered in snow, there was plenty to see. We came upon a tree that looked like it had been freshly felled by a beaver.

Along the water’s edge, old bittersweet vines provided a spot of colour.

This tree was heavily encrusted with tiny bits of fungus.

Odd bursts of autumn leaves that had refused to fall were highlighted by the sunshine. The photo also illustrates how close much of the trail, after it departs from the edge of the lake, runs along the steep cliffs of the escarpment. This section of the hike is best for people who aren’t bothered by heights.

The walking was slow-going; for every step or two forward, our feet would then sink through the softening snow and have to be yanked back out. Some of the rises and falls of the trail along the dips in the landscape were slippery and required caution to avoid sliding over the cliffs. It was manageable, but sometimes a little nerve-wracking. But the warmth of the sun, the freshness of the mild air, and the opportunity to see the forest without the clutter of summer leaves made the experience worth it. The fallen tree below had some intriguing tunnels deep inside. I’m guessing they were made by some type of tree borer, but if you have more exact knowledge I’d love to know.

Another deceased tree, still leaning at an angle across the path, had been artistically stripped of some of its bark like a mummy wrap.

In one sunny spot the snow had melted away to reveal velvety green moss strewn with acorns — a great prize for any squirrels in the area.

As we reached the final stretch of the trail leading back to the mill along the creek formed by the falling water, the snow had been packed down under a slick melting layer and the walking became very slippery. Hikers coming in the opposite direction from the mill asked us what conditions were like behind us.

In Ontario, this image is iconic of winter transitioning into spring: rivulets of water opening up a tunnel in the melting ice.

An even more iconic sign of spring made a surprise appearance: eight to ten robins hopping around the trees above the creek.

As we approached the falls from the far side of the gorge, the last rays of sun before a bank of clouds rolled in illuminated the layers of the falls themselves, with a curtain of melt-water falling over ethereal columns of ice behind it.

All in all, a wonderful hike on a glorious spring-like day. These are the gifts of Nature that you accept as they’re offered, enjoying the transitory beauty one fabulous day at a time.

Outside the box wellness: winter’s magic

It’s a disheartening time to be a Canadian. There’s a large philosophical divide between the truckers who refuse to get vaccinated and the thousands of us who believe that in a world-wide pandemic, the greater good supersedes individual contrariness. We thousands have all had the vaccine and are doing just fine, apart from a couple of days of flu-type malaise after each injection. The development of vaccines has meant that millions of people no longer die from diseases like smallpox, tuberculosis, typhoid, diphtheria and polio. I don’t argue the truckers’ right to protest, just their complete disregard of how their gatherings are disrupting the lives of thousands of people who, I believe, have just as much right to avoid getting sick.

When my frustrations reach boiling point, I head out to spend time in the peace and beauty of nature. Even in winter, you say? Winter is a wonderful time to get outside. I bundle up, grab my camera, and enjoy the artistry of the winter landscape.

Snow forms complex patterns on the frozen surface of the Welland Canal
A bollard creates its own animal shadow — I see a horse’s head
What appears to be some kind of buoy forms a bright spot on the ice of the Canal
Multiple tracks in the snow — I think some are squirrel, one white-tailed deer, and other I’m not sure of
A gorgeous blue jay explores a thicket along the Canal
The white backdrop makes everything look sculptural, like these black benches and bright red dogwood branches
An unidentified tree has buds on it!
A picturesque fence draped with tangled vines
More anthropomorphism — an evergreen shrub is transformed into a hulking winged beast
Even the snow has patterns, from smooth white, to windy swirls, to these granules that I assume dropped down from the trees above