Niagara Falls is one of the United State’s most famous landmarks. It is also one of the nation’s eldest tourist attractions: Niagara Falls was the first state park. Ginny Smith joins the crowds to find out if mass tourism has made this natural wonder any less wonderful.
[mc4wp_form]
Niagara Falls Hiking, Exploring and Touring
There were so many selfie sticks I found myself constantly ducking out of the way of photos. I didn’t want to become the awkward stranger in a family photograph that would hang for years on a living room wall.
As I was visiting a landmark that attracts over eight million visitors a year, I expected the crowds and mix of languages that floated in the moist air. But I still wasn’t prepared for the mass of camera-flashing humanity leaning over the metal rails at Niagara Falls State Park, New York.
However, I was even less prepared for the power flowing beyond the lenses: the water cascading so forcefully over the rocky edge that it sent clouds of mist high into the air.
The American Falls
Squeezing in next to a coin-operated pair of binoculars, I leaned over the rail of the overlook, holding on tightly with both hands. The American Falls spilled down closest to me, the water white and foamy. I could see the land separating it from Bridal Veil Falls dotted with people, the curving edge of Canada’s Horseshoe Falls sticking out behind the tree-covered land. The falls tumbled into the Niagara River, a bright turquoise in the late June sunshine
Canada rose from the other side of the river, tall buildings topping the steep cliffs for a front row view. I gazed, mesmerized, into the falls, the water like a flowing white beard, its thunder drowning out all other sounds.
Goat Island
The jostling throng soon shook me out of my trance. Like everyone around me, I snapped pictures on my phone. My fiancé asked a stranger to capture the moment for us.
Photos taken, we left the overlook for Goat Island, the land that separates the American and Canadian sides of the falls. We walked across a bridge above the water that would soon rush over the steep sides – just as it has done for the last 12,000 years.
Reaching Luna Island, a tiny piece of land connected by bridge to Goat Island, I looked down into the falls. Staring at the rocks and foam below, I wondered what could possibly possess people to ride down Niagara Falls in wooden barrels.
Poncho-clad people walked along little platforms by the rocks below on their way to see the Cave of the Winds. The mist blurred my view both of them and of the passengers on the Maid of the Mist boat tours.
Luna Island
Looking down from Luna Island, a rainbow arched perfectly over the people and foam. Before the days of artificial light, the moon also cast these rainbows, giving the island its name. The American Falls stretched widely to my right, thin Bridal Veil Falls flowing like lace to the left to meet its larger partner at the bottom.
The damp observation deck deterred some of the tourists. Enjoying the cool spray, I took in the beauty of the scene until the mist became actual drops of water sliding down my face.
Horseshoe Falls
The overlook viewing Horseshoe Falls, like the others, was crowded; especially at the points offering the best backdrop. I wondered if people came all the way to Niagara Falls just to take these photos, already drafting hashtags in their heads. Or perhaps they were here to tick off another item on a bucket list. Maybe for them a visit to the falls was more about status and less about experiencing this ancient natural wonder. Some barely looked at the falls before posing for pictures.
Despite the crowds, we walked along the rail, the majesty of the scene before us overcoming my troubled thoughts of tourism. Our stroll brought us to a path leading away from the falls toward the Three Sisters Islands: three small, bridged islands off of Goat Island in the Niagara River. After only a few steps down the path, the sounds of people fell away. Only the distant thunder of falling water met our ears.
The Three Sisters Islands seemed empty next to the swarming overlooks; peaceful in their relative seclusion. The river rushed over rocks and ridges, rough but looking significantly smaller after gazing so long at the waterfalls.
Whirlpool State Park
Favoring this more relaxed atmosphere and unwilling to spend money on falls attractions, we decided to leave the nation’s first state park for another just four miles down the Niagara River.
Several hiking trails leave from Whirlpool State Park, part of the Niagara Gorge Trail System. We studied the map at the small visitor’s center, reading the trail descriptions and updated safety warnings. Before finishing the list, I knew which one we’d choose. “Whirlpool Rapids Trail. Skill level: difficult. Stairs, boulder hopping, narrow sections. Distance 1.3 mi (2.1 km) one way. Sites: Whirlpool and rapids.” They had me at “boulder hopping.”
The dirt path soon led us to the promised stairs, the snaking river seeming impossibly far below between the trees. The steep stone staircase wound down the side of cliff, disappearing behind greenery. We followed the uneven incline, eyes down, as some sections turned to rubble and steps slanted toward the water. When we finally reached the bottom, I looked up at the towering staircase and thought that they looked almost ancient, as if the steps belonged in some forgotten city or ruin built into the rocky cliff side.
We followed the hilly gorge path, much closer to the water now but still somewhat high up. Orange blazes guided us through mini stone forests obstructing the trail, the result of rockslides from the land towering above us. The track of cliff crumble stretched most of the way up, the land decorated in rocks of every imaginable size. We could not exactly “hop” the large boulder obstacles, instead climbing over or through little crevices.
Wildflowers grew from every nook and cranny, little bursts of purple, white, and yellow among the green, gray, and brown. As we neared the Niagara River’s whirlpool, the dirt trail gave way to an expanse of semi-flat rocks. Fast, people-filled boats zoomed by on their way to ride the waves of the whirlpool, so we followed the sounds of motors and voices.
Whirlpool Jets
As we hiked, my eyes were continually drawn to the rushing water. At one point, part of the river seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. The two currents crashed into each other like cars on a highway. We climbed on the high rocks and below us churned the Niagara Whirlpool, white among the turquoise flow. The swirling water was yet another reminder of nature’s awe-inspiring power. And, for others, represented another way to capitalize on its beauty. Though few others hiked the Whirlpool Rapids Trail, boats, called ‘Whirlpool Jets’, constantly sped back and forth, bringing new groups of people for the thrill ride.
The ‘Whirlpool Aero Car’ glided above the rapids on the Canadian side, giving visitors a bird’s-eye-view. We took in the whole sight from our sunny rock, resting our feet before tackling the rest of the trail.
Momentary Solitude
We continued down the Niagara River past the whirlpool. As we clambered over boulders following the winding path, the water grew even rougher. Rapids crashed into barricades of rocks, creating foaming waves – a miniature ocean storm. The waves, sparkling with light, were as beautiful as the swirling pool, but no one rode above these nameless rapids or embarked on a paid boat ride. It was only the two of us, watching from the rocky ledge.
The Whirlpool Rapids Trail finally reaches an impenetrable wall of rocks. Hikers are sent back to the stairs. Just looking at the incline made my legs ache, but I panted my way up the steps, inhaling the fresh smell of damp forest as I climbed.
Back at the visitor’s center, I read a sign chronicling the escapades of daredevils who, in barrels and boats – or with their own bodies – have braved Whirlpool Rapids. Through the ages, humans have always tried to tame the water – do they see it as a challenge, or as a threat?
Fireworks
After a brilliant pink sunset, we returned to Niagara Falls State Park for the night-time festivities. Niagara Falls are illuminated every night from 9 to 12 p.m., and on Fridays and Sundays firewords explode over the crashing water.
We joined hundreds of other spectators at an overlook to watch the mist being illuminated different colors. One cannot help but be a tourist at Niagara Falls. Perhaps it’s best simply to resign oneself to this fact. Strap on a fanny pack, don a visor, and walk around with a camera out. The thundering beauty of the falls makes joining the masses worthwhile. Here, being a tourist does not stop you from being an explorer. The Niagara area offers a balance, for those who wish to find it.
As I watched the fireworks sparkle over the mist, and listened to the continuous thunder of the water, I felt small among the hordes of people against the awesome natural backdrop. But I also felt at home in a long tradition of touring and exploring Niagara Falls.
Ginny Smith