Niagara Falls, eh? Why not? That’s the question we asked ourselves, and when we couldn’t come up with a reason against it, we rounded up our passports and headed on a one-day detour.

More Niagara* after the break…

*Before we begin, I apologize for the condition of a few following photos. In my infinite wisdom, I may or may not have mixed up chemicals during the developing process, pouring fixer into the tank before exposing the film to developer. That said, I actually think the grainy/dirty/ugly (pick an adjective you like) negatives add a certain quality to the images, almost as if they were captured in another decade.

The day started with a pre-dawn flight up to Buffalo where we met our local tour guide Don. From there we jammed over the border to a foreign land, a place filled with nature, majesty, and casinos. And let me tell you, The Don knew the landscape, and knew where to hit first. We boarded the Maid of the Mist before she was overcome with suitors, donned our complimentary ponchos, and motored toward the falls themselves.

This employee was just doing his crossword, calm as can be, as the power of 150,000 gallons per minute pummeled the craft

Returning to dry land, we traded in our ponchos and motored over to the lip of the falls, where apparently people throw caution (and common sense) to the wind…

From there we “hiked” the tunnels beneath the falls, I have to say it was surreal looking at the wall of water from the inside…

After a scrumptious lunch at Canada’s McDonald’s equivalent, we moved down river, visiting such beautiful sights as the Niagara Falls botanical clock and matching powerstations! It wasn’t all glamorous though, we stopped to check out the gondola that crosses a massive whirlpool at the end of the river, and even trudged through a local park only to be skunked by elusive geocache.

But perhaps the most unexpectedly AWESOME part of the trip was a visit to the canal. “Woah, a canal, how exciting…” I know you were thinking it, and shame on you. You know what they say about people who assume? They’re dicks. Anyway, we pulled up right as a massive coal freighter was making its final ascent upriver. Joining the small community perched on the hill watching, we watched the behemoth pull into the narrow lock (with only about a one foot clearance on either side) and proceed to climb 40 feet as water rushed in to fill the gaps. Once everything reached equilibrium, the gates opened, the air horn blew (scaring the pee out of those unaccustomed to such things) and the ship went on its merry way. The whole event took less than half an hour, and if that seems long, well, we were captivated the entire time.

And the people, OH MAN how I wished I could stay there and do full blown photo project. I mean, this was their local entertainment, their social life. They built an entire culture around watching these ships come and go, and I yearned to document it!

The Grandstands

Reserved Seating

Waiting for the ships to come in

And if you’re wondering about the title of this post, it refers to the incredibly entertaining (if not a bit morbid) game we played throughout the trip. Independent of other family members, we each ventured a guess as to number of people who purposefully attempted to heave themselves over the falls, and the number that perished in this search for glory. I won’t say who won (I DID I DID!), or who guessed most radically incorrectly (ANSLEY ANSLEY!), but the final count according to Don, and verified by Wikipedia:

16 Tried/5 Died