Americans do it better ..

I am surprised (and sorry to our Canadian friends) to say it, but at one thing at least, the Americans outstrip the Canadians by a mile. Yes folks, I am talking about the natural wonder and tourist travesty that is Niagara Falls.

With jaws to the floor, we drove through Lundy Lane and then down Clifton Hill on the Canadian side, past endless casinos, sex shops, cheesy motels, McDonalds and “attractions”. The Horseshoe Falls are undoubtedly superior, and the Maid of the Mist cannot be beat. I even kept my eyes open this time even right below the pounding water, as the tour guide dramatically announces “Ladies and gentleman, this is Niagara Falls”. The kids screamed with glee and we all got soaked to the skin. We had some spontaneous “awesome!”s, and it truly made up for the tackiness, the crappy food crappily served (don’t even start me on the waitress on the edge of the nervous breakdown who could not sort out our extortionately expensive order, leaving us with soggy, tepid pizza slices).

But then we decided to walk to the USA. We have entered it by train, by boat (thanks to Bob and Susan) and now by foot over the rainbow bridge, and our bad moods and antsiness instantly lifted. The American side has the most beautiful manicured parks, a trolley bus, cleanliness, lovely walks, good service, no crowds … a collective sigh of relief. You can walk right up to the edge of the smaller, but no less impressive, American Falls, seeing close up the river churning and then disappearing precipitously down 150 foot. It is truly beautiful, with not a casino or fast food outlet in sight. At least as good as the Maid of the Mist was the hairy climb/walk around the base of the Bridal Veil Falls (named the teenager by Rhys and Rowan … the American being the mother, the Horseshoe being the daddy). Some of you know my utter fear of manmade structures over heights … well unfortunately it did extend to rickety wooden stairs over plunging falls whilst being pounded by wind and water too. Especially when the guide told us they rip down and rebuild the structures each autumn. So what if they did a shoddy job this year? Thinks I. But, as on Corn Du, Rhys helped me over it and it was amazing, and soaking. Rowan and Joe braved the Hurricane deck, which is literally feet away from the sheet of water as one of our blurry pics show. Joe, who had spurned the free attractive raincoats on the Maid of the Mist and Journey Behind the Falls, felt he had proved his point when, despite the rain cover, he got soaked through to the skin by the sheer force of wind and water.

Rowan upgraded her view of Niagara from “wet” at aged 18 months, to “big and wet” aged 8. Ah, how amazing it is to watch them grow and develop. Jenna, showing the strong alliterative nature of our close knit family, called it “weird”. Rhys just jumped around like a maniac whooping and shouting “totally awesome!” while pretending to be Legolas and killing Orcs, so no change there then.

After a surprisingly good hotdog and yummy ice cream, we were all very much happier and walked back into Canada as the sun set and they lit up the Falls in fluorescent colours – yes, from the Canadian side. We walked back into the Blackpool/Kensington High Street/Las Vegas jungle and tried for over an hour to find our bus back in foul moods once again. Gone 10pm, we got back to our beloved Doris and the kids sparked out instantly, leaving Joe and I to despair at how any council could possibly allow the kind of development that has grown up at Canadian Niagara. It would be like plonking Blackpool half way up the side of Pen y Fan, complete with the Imax experience and 4d Pen y Fan roller coaster, where you could buy genuine mountain rock … yes, you can even buy bottled illuminated Niagara Falls water here.

Enough ranting. The falls themselves defy all the trashiness, and lets face it, they must generate a lot more revenue for Ontario than they do for the State of New York.

Suffice it to say, we are now looking forward to getting away from the tackiness and the traffic, and into the wild. Algonquin, here we come.