Sunday, July 26, 2009

Niagara Falls, Canada





Monday, July 6, 2009

Monday morning coming down. . . The festival's over. We probably would have lingered awhile longer at the campground but Nicky had to be picked up and we had reservations that night in Tremen State Park in Ithaca, New York. Clearly there was work to be done.

The ride south was not without incident. We got lost in and around Toronto and witnessed a fiery wreck on the Interstate. Not sure how it happened but it looked bad. Although the accident occurred on the northbound side, traffic on the southbound side was backed up for miles. What is it about humans that we are so drawn to the misfortunes of others? I took my time passing the wreck, as well. The entire car was engulfed in flames.

Before crossing into the USA, we stopped on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls to have a look-see. Most everyone has seen these falls on television but the little screen does not do them justice. They are so much more impressive in person. The breadth and scope of their power just cannot be conveyed on a screen. Even though the town on the Canadian side has been turned into a Las Vegas style tourist trap, I'd still like go back some day and spend more time in the area. For now, Carol hopped out of the van to snap these photos.

I was a little apprehensive driving across the International Bridge and lining up to go through customs. I thought there might be some interest to see inside my trailer, but fortunately we were waved through within a few minutes.

Vince and Christie, although they left the Bass Lake campground around the same time we did, had arrived at Tremen State Park in five hours rather than the ten it took Carol and I. So late were we that Vince had alerted the park ranger to look for us outside the park and escort us to our campsite after dark. Naturally, Christie being the gourmet chef that she is had a splendid hot meal waiting for us. The next morning we awoke to find ourselves the sole occupants of an absolutely beautiful picture perfect meadow.

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