I have a memory of walking down wooden steps and standing behind the rush of the falls. I think that was the Cave of the Winds on the New York side. I always thought I had been on the Canadian side with my parents, but now I’m not sure.
From the Canadian side, I could see the observation deck hanging out slightly over the river on the New York side. I crossed the bridge connecting countries and walked up onto the highest deck blasted by frigid winds. I returned to shelter to tie my scarf around my face before stepping back into the gale. It felt so much colder on this side of the river.
Along the fence below the deck and running back from the edge, I could sense and hear the forceful flow pushing its way over logs and rocks to make the plunge. Its power made me feel peripheral to nature and not likely to climb in any barrels to take the plunge against her. The birds though were flying and swooping and diving to the water enjoying this weather and place.
I hate the cold and snow and prefer flip-flops and shorts to snow boots and gloves. But before I find that warmth, I want to visit more places in snow and ice. Visiting at times when others weren’t, seemed like an intimate visit with a friend rather than just another party-goer jockeying for my host’s attention.