True Story Of Our Adventure To Niagara Falls

With the week winding down, Carolyn’s flame for exciting activity broke out into all out fire when she came up with the idea to acquire a couple of on sale bicycles and pedal the over 50 miles to Niagara Falls and back; totaling a 100 miles. Undoubtedly an achievable task for an athlete or professional; But could it really be done by a pair of credulous wide-eyed neophytes who had not ridden a bicycle in years? Well… that’s what we were going to find out!

We got our bikes on the Thursday evening and were prepared to head out the next evening after work. We were working as construction laborers back then and the work day usually proved to be altogether backbreaking. Nevertheless we held to our zany little plan. The sceptical reactions and the warnings we had received from others only served to inflame our desire for accomplishment.

We had equipped our bicycles with dynamic lighting systems; the kind that depends on the driver’s manual labor. It would prove exceptionally useful in the middle of the night. The back roads we took bore us across brush country. The hours reeled along as nightfall straight away veiled the road and countryside in darkness. There was seldom a streetlamp to light the way as time stretched into the late renegade hours of the night. There was something remarkably captivating about this portion of the journey. The piercing silence and the flashing neon of fireflies along the blackened landscape entranced us. The even, electric tempo of our pedaling and heartbeats physically sustained the pulsating beam of our tiny headlights. Carolyn had little more than my red twinkling rear light to guide her and I could see no more than ten lighted feet in front of me. The tremendous fatigue put us both into a kind of meditative stupor; an overruling state of peace. This stage of mental freedom would however be interrupted by the alarming realization that we were indeed lost.

Every scattered road seemed only to fade into shadow and darkness. No sign would appear to direct us and exhaustion was really beginning to take its toll on us. We were hoping to run into a motel; But only wilderness and the odd dingy farmhouse greeted us. At last a light shown in the distance from an unidentified building.

We had never intended to check it out and were about to pass it by when this strange fellow came running at us with great, almost fanatic enthusiasm; yelling what sounded to me like:

“ ---something unintelligible---SHOOT HER!!! ”

Survival instinct seized me and I sped on, assuming Carolyn would follow suit. But she didn’t. Instead she stopped to bump heads with the gentleman. I then whirled back around only to discover the lad holding a tray of cocktails and enunciating the words:

“ JELLO shooters. ”

I had to laugh. A few young ladies also came out to join the assemblage as Mr. JELLO-boy merrily began to hand us a couple of rounds. Now we don’t normally feed into this type of bravado; but we were extremely desperate for some kind of intervention; not to mention a few much needed calories. I liken this occurrence to the miraculous appearance of an oasis in the desert. We were incredibly lucky to run into them. Their generosity rescued us from gloom and renewed our spirits. They helped us in re-establishing our bearings and direct us to a nearby hotel; ultimately consecrating our quest and wishing us all the luck in the world.

We finally discovered the fabled hotel and roused the sleeping owner from his coma. We then finally collapsed into the most comfortable bed anyone could find, sleeping the sleep only an anonymous room in the middle of nowhere can deliver.

The next morning we cycled to the nearest coffee shop for some enlightening java and then continued our journey. We were very close now indeed, having arrived at Lundy’s Lane; the main strip leading to the falls. This area is somewhat difficult to describe. So eerie and bizarre; Like a circus side-show rooted in one place until the end of time. The scenery seems almost deformed by the strangest architecture. Something one might see in a comic dream. A flying saucer-shaped hotel here; A casino over there; Haunted castles scattering the street and a giant statue of Frankenstein holding a melting cheeseburger over the side-walk. One might wonder what links all these eccentric elements to one of the world’s most magnificent waterfalls. Could it all reflect and represent the freakishly monstrous size of the Falls? I can’t be sure. One thing however is clear. This place was built purely for greedy pleasure and fun.

We had intended all along to set up camp somewhere in town; So we found a local campground and pitched the little tent we had hauled on our backs for the last fifty miles. We then made a nice fire to sit by and spend the rest of the evening with. I think that a glowing warm fire can be the most absorbing form of entertainment an intelligent creature can command; and command it we did from hot muscular blaze to scorched ember and finally cool tranquil ash.

We rose with the dawn and took a long time showering. Carolyn rekindled our fire to roast us a little toast and coffee. The light of the sun poured in through the leaves and gently warmed our faces. We then got set for our return home journey. But first Carolyn noticed the camp-site had a working laundromat and we both agreed that some fresh clean clothes to dignify our return trip would start things off on the right note. This might sound like a trivial detail but is a necessary one in setting up this next scene which took place and astonished not only me, but also the children which lingered in the vicinity.

I was on my way on my bike to rejoin Carolyn when I spied much dust and dead leaves stirring in the wind along the ground of the path before me. True to my puerile and unruly way I decided to speed up like mad and tear through in an effort to up heave it all behind me as I went across. I next slammed the breaks hard and quickly spun around to look back at the small-time bit of theater I’d produced when suddenly all the dust, gravel and dead leaves started to twist and whirl; rising five; then then fifteen and up to twenty-five and thirty feet high! I then gazed in clammed up amazement as the nearby children let go loud pealing gasps when the high whirling cyclone of dust and leaves formed a perfectly symmetrical tornado twister. Its flawless geometry bewildered me. It endured for no more than five or six seconds before disintegrating into disarray. Carolyn was just coming out of the laundromat when she noticed our floored expressions; she unfortunately missed the whole thing. She did however see the children’s blown away faces which I think describes this short-lived marvel better than any of these words could. To this day I ponder the unbelievable odds of something so geometrically perfect materializing itself out of the mayhem of down-to-earth rubble and wind. I abhor the idea of planting an involuntary thought in the mind of the reader; I do on the other hand believe there may be something more than meets the eye here; More being an exalted pattern of energy capable of bringing forth shape and form from out the shapeless and unformed.

Our route home would take us all along the Niagara river and straight across wine-country. The golden breeze filled our lungs with joy. When thirst burned in our throats we would spontaneously come upon a cherry tree and were overjoyed by our good-fortune. The avenues were alive with beautiful animated people. Carolyn out of the blue shouted with joy and I joined her.

I was trailing her now as we began to descend a very long steep hill walled with tall luxuriant trees. As we dove along the riverside, down this great slope, glittering with a million streaks of sunlight and with the supple wind in our faces; I experienced the perfect moment; an instant which contained an eternity; And I thought in that eternal flash that if the asphalt beneath my spinning tires suddenly crumbled into dust and the fluttering strands of sunshine wrapped around my limbs like the wind and funneled me into its embrace
That I could indeed reach the guiding stars
And that I could in truth … fly.

*images courtesy of Pixabay