Niagara Falls
Go.
See them for yourself.
Nothing you have read
about them, nothing
you have seen in travel
documentaries, nothing
you have watched on
television screens,
nothing you have marvelled
at in Imax theatres,
nothing you have heard
about them from those
who have been there,
can prepare you for
the impact of the reality.
That first sight of Niagara
Falls will render you
speechless. Words, however
crafted, cannot convey
that first impression.
It is personal.
Afterwards you can try
to explain the feeling.
But whatever words you
choose, they will be
mere banality.
Niagara
Falls.
The American Falls (the
lesser falls) on the
left.
The Horseshoe Falls
(Canadian) on the right.
Goat Island in the between.
Photo courtesy Rynn
Solutions
Here nature's force holds
sway. The natural world
displays its raw immensity.
It speaks in tones of
thunder, unending thunder,
thunder every second
of every minute, every
minute of every hour,
every hour of every
day, every night, every
week, every month, every
year, every decade,
every century, every
millennium. It has done
so for millions of years,
and may well do so for
millions more.
Seeing it for the first
time, human kind can
only marvel. Seen from
above, from the window
of a twenty-fifth floor
room of an hotel, itself
built on a 300 meter
high cliff, humans are
termites as they edge
along a promenade skirting
the Falls, the Horseshoe
Falls.
Day and night those Falls
send a cloud of mist
high into the sky. By
day and by night tourists
are covered in mist
as they seek the closest
vantage point. And none
complain.
Bathed in moonlight,
shining in sunlight,
framed in rainbows,
the Falls present an
ever-changing spectacle.
Not content with nature's
illumination, man has
trained artificial lighting
on the columns of falling
water, gaudy colours
changing according to
some computerized paint-by-numbers
formula thankfully confined
to evening hours.
The Falls have their
own colouring and do
not require make-up,
however well intended.
Bridal white, apple
green, deepest blue,
race over an undercoat
of wet black rock. Try
paint them if you will,
digitize them if you
wish, nothing can capture
the full reality.
The Falls mesmerize the
watcher. An hour flies
by and the eye remains
transfixed. Words are
unnecessary. The Falls
speak to the inner being.
Essence melds with essence.
To intrude a personal
note, I was seeing the
Falls for the first
time in my life, and
that in my later years.
For this I was thankful.
I had seen much, experienced
much, and could only
say nothing had prepared
me for the visual, physical,
emotional impact of
seeing the Falls for
the first time.
For once I felt what
Cortez felt, "Silent,
upon a peak in Darien",
as he and his men first
saw the Pacific.
I am blessed to belong
to that dwindling few
who remember a waterfall
in my homeland, much
smaller in size but
with longer recorded
history, legendary Assaroe.
I grew up with the sound
of that waterfall, omnipresent,
day and night. Compared
with Niagara it was
a mere whisper.
Niagara's history is
written in stone, line
by line in the multi-levels
of the gorge it has
carved through millennia
upon millennia. That
distinctive mark, however,
is nothing when compared
with the rocks
at Assaroe. But
where we Irish destroyed
Assaroe, Canadians displayed
a greater sense of what
was truly precious.
Their hydro-electric
plant preserved their
Horseshoe Falls. Would
that we had been so
caring of our natural
heritage! Niagara and
its sound will continue
to reverberate through
the ages.
Two memories: An elderly
Japanese tourist and
I carried on a wonderful
discussion as we exchanged
our delight with the
Falls. He spoke no English,
I spoke no Japanese.
As we parted, he bent
down to pick up two
cigarette butts from
the pavement, the legacy
of louts, and placed
them in a litter bin.
At the Mackenzie Heritage
Printery Museum in nearby
Queenston, Kelly Grant,
guide and curator, allowed
my grandson, daughters
and I, to set our names
from case, something
I first did when a schoolboy
sixty-five years ago.
As we left, a young couple
from Cork was entering
the printery. No doubt
it will be one of their
most cherished honeymoon
memories, another link
between Canada and Ireland!
--30--
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