Author: Mark

Just occasionally on a trip like this, you get to cycle somewhere truly exceptional. Today was such a day, as we made our way along the last thirty miles of the Empire State Trail. It took us along the west side of the entire length of Manhattan Island to the very bottom tip, and the conclusion of my coast to coast cycle across America.

I cannot often have felt such a sense of excitement from the saddle of a bicycle. It was the most glorious day and everywhere around us was buzzing with energy. The Hudson River looked magnificent to our right, while the tall buildings of New York City just kept getting taller by the mile.

It was hard to keep your eyes on the busy trail, with all of the accompanying obstacles: other cyclists, runners, food delivery people undertaking us at speed on their e-bikes. There seemed to be more of everything here. More noise, more people, more things in the way, and more incredible views left, right and ahead of us. It was an assault on the senses.

In front of a huge aircraft carrier, The Intrepid, moored by the pier at the end of 46th Street, I heard a familiar voice calling out “Uncle Mark”. It was my eldest nephew, Sean, out on a street rental bike to meet us and ride the last few miles together to Battery Park. What a great way to finish, in the company of a close friend and a family member under the warm autumn sun.

Sean showed us the 9/11 Memorial at Ground Zero. I had not seen it before and found it very moving. It was a tremendous task to create something simultaneously big enough, sombre enough and also very beautiful in commemoration of all of those who died that terrible day. But I must say, they got it just right for me. The memorials (one for each tower) are holes in the ground, each apparently occupying the footprint of the missing building. All around the huge square is a railing of marble with the names of the deceased inscribed. Over the railing, water cascades inwards into the deep hole from all four sides, and on into the ground. Like many people, I vividly remember watching those live images on television, and the plane crashing into the second tower. It was a day that changed the world forever. I hadn’t stood here since the memorial was completed. I am glad I saw it.

And then, just a short distance further on, under the glinting spire of the replacement One World Trade Center, we reached the end. The Statue of Liberty rose into view on the horizon, surprisingly small and far away across the blue water. In front of her lay Ellis Island, the gateway to the New World for many millions of immigrants whose journeys over the Atlantic ended here. These historic potent symbols of a new beginning for so many, today represented a triumphant end for me, and a passage to another phase of my long journey home. It was amazing to think that the whole of the breadth of the USA lay behind me. Three and a half thousand miles of pedalling had brought me here in 45 days. Wow!

And then it was time to leave. I had a wife waiting for me in Reykjavik and a train to catch to a plane. It was time to go through the New York metro to Grand Central Station, employing the considerable height and strength of my lacrosse playing nephew to help my bike up and down the steps. My brush with New York City had been fleeting but magnificent. I will come back, just as I have visited several times before. It is unique. A fitting way to end an epic six week journey from the Pacific to the Atlantic coasts of this enormous country. And a journey I will never forget.

Today was my last full day of cycling across the USA, so how fitting that it was another beautiful, crisp, sunny day of blue skies. Autumn was in the air, but only just a hint. It was basically perfect. For so much of this trip the weather has been remarkably good. I doubt I have ever lived through a more consistently lovely summer. Today it meant that we enjoyed New York State somewhere close to its very best.

It did no harm that we were treated to seventy miles of continuous off road cycling through woods and past gorgeous lakes, all with a smooth, sealed surface. There were other cyclists and walkers about, but not too many to get in our way. Progress was easy and mostly flat along old railway tracks. The signage was largely excellent and we wove our way from Poughkeepsie through quite hilly, rural country to the east side of the Hudson Valley. Unusually today, we didn’t actually see the Hudson River; but it was all a delight nevertheless, in a less dramatic way.

No particular moments stand out above any other. It was all good. We found a small town, Brewster, for lunch at just the time we were getting hungry, and enjoyed corned beef eggs Benedict to a soundtrack of Latino music. Later in the day, with an hour to go, we passed through the pleasant Yorktown, with its old train station and open green spaces, adorned with many flags. Here we found another cafe for ice cream and some incredibly refreshing Brazilian lemonade. You should try that. I’m certainly glad we did. It made for a suitable final refreshment stop of this American adventure, the last of many that have varied enormously. Nothing quite replicated the classic British tea room experience, because not much does; but there were many highlights and something always turned up, even in the most remote and unlikely of places, and I took advantage as much as I could. It really is an important part of these adventures!

The leaves on some of the trees were beginning to show their fall colours, especially in some of the more swampy sections where there were some vivid reds and oranges already on display. This spectacle will only improve as the month goes on, but it was lovely to get at least a taste of it.

You felt you could while away many a day with this kind of cycling, and in a way that is exactly what we had done for a week. It wasn’t all the same, by any means; but taken as a whole, the Empire State Trail is a remarkable cycling experience of more than 500 miles of level, well signed, cycle friendly pedalling, and a fabulous resource that New York can be proud of. We began up near Buffalo on the Niagara River, bordering Canada, and ended today just 30 miles short of the bottom tip of Manhattan Island, a manageable morning’s work to tackle tomorrow. There’s nothing like having a good plan; but it’s even better when that plan is executed pretty much to perfection!

We crossed the mighty Hudson River twice today. Each bridge must be getting on for two miles long. It is a serious business. There aren’t many bridges, but happily we did a much better job today at staying on the wonderful Empire State Trail, so there was no problem being stuck on the wrong side. The first crossing was on a road bridge heading west into a headwind, over to historic Kingston, in the early afternoon. That took us high up in the middle but drops down to the bank at either end. The second crossing was even better; but since it ended the day, I’ll leave it to the end of this post.

We had the sunny weather back today and got away rather sluggishly from our stunning Airbnb in Hudson. Just down the road I got a puncture, which set us back another fifteen minutes. But after that the Empire State Trail took us along delightful, quiet back lanes and through affluent, historic villages. In one, Germantown, there was a cafe too inviting to ignore. A couple of mature lady cyclists were there, too, and we conversed at some length, as well as consulting over seat height and making a correction for one of the ladies. They were locals and told us that not so long ago Hudson was a town their parents would not have allowed them to visit. Apparently whales would be floated up the Hudson River here from New York, over 100 miles away, for processing. That chapter has been closed; but I did see a couple of whale weather vanes on now very respectable buildings.

We cycled down through the very pretty grounds of Bard University to the bridge and over to Kingston, where a large creek joins the main river. Here is a wonderful old waterfront, with yachts and a large wooden galleon moored in front of old, restored warehouses, all under the gaze of two high road bridges suspended across the inlet far above us. It was the perfect spot for a late lunch on an outdoor terrace above the water, and we enjoyed some excellent salad while we watched the ducks.

Thereafter the route climbed up the hillside to join an old rail trail through woodland and over wooden trestle bridges spanning smaller – but still substantial – rivers below. And so this continued for a couple of hours.

It was great riding in a peaceful setting, albeit quite a big loop away from the Hudson. But it brought us back in the most spectacular fashion when suddenly we arrived at the entrance to the Hudson Walkway and found ourselves in the company of many local folk, out for an evening stroll or run, bike ride or Segway. They were all here to enjoy the pedestrian bridge that crosses high above the river to Poughkeepsie, far away on the east bank. It was once a railroad, but now offers non-motorised traffic a beautiful view up and down the river and across at the slender road suspension bridge to the south. On this sunny, calm evening it was a fine place to be.

Our hotel was another five miles along the trail, saving us some cycling miles tomorrow. I have one more full day to cycle along the Hudson, hopefully bringing me into easy range of Manhattan Island on Thursday morning. After six weeks of cycling from Boring, Oregon, I am tantalisingly close to the Atlantic!

No sooner had we all learned how to say “Schenectady” than we were heading off along the Mohawk River on a circuitous path towards the state capital of New York, Albany. It was a drizzly departure, and the grey, damp conditions continued for much of the day. I really can’t complain though, since this is only the third day out of 41 that I have seen even the lightest precipitation- and considerably more days than that if you count back before I started cycling. It has been a glorious summer wherever I have been.

Albany

In this weather there were not many photos taken and few stops made. But it wasn’t unpleasant or lacking in interest. Albany turned out to be much larger and older looking than I had expected. It sits right on the Hudson River, which the Mohawk River had joined, sending us emphatically in a southward direction towards New York City. This is a seriously large body of water with big boats on it. There are not so many bridges, either, which became an important feature of our day a little later on.

After 30 miles we were ready for lunch in Albany and found a wonderful example of an old fashioned American style diner. It was just what we needed and we happily sat there until all the chairs had been placed on the tables, long after finishing our omelettes, fried potatoes and toast. I had my first marmalade in many weeks, which made me happy.

Up there somewhere was our route. We missed it.

We easily regained the riverside bike path but somehow missed the fact that the Empire State cycle route crossed over the only bridge – I’m not sure how that worked, since it was a freeway – and continued on the east bank of the Hudson. Instead we began riding along the western bank, through the industrial port area south of downtown, and only realised the error of our ways when we were several miles down the moderately busy road. A decision was required and I made it. I’m not one for turning around and retracing my steps and I could see the exciting prospect of a ferry ahead if we went this way, which swayed me. Simon graciously went along with my choice.

It continued to be moderately busy for perhaps another half an hour and then, mercifully, and for no obvious reason, all the traffic melted away and we enjoyed a delightfully quiet, undulating ride down the Hudson valley, past a series of large and characterful homes set in green countryside. The drizzle came and went.

No ferry today

A little after 5pm we reached the small, pretty town of Athens, from where Google Maps told us there was a ferry that would cross directly to Hudson, on the opposite bank, where were staying tonight. Perfect. Only it never came and a phonecall revealed that it only runs at the weekend! Not so good. In fact, we could see a bridge a little further downstream and it was less than an hour round trip to cycle over it and back up to Hudson. The crossing of the “Rip van Winkle Bridge” was quite exhilarating, and we arrived at a delightfully appointed Airbnb in an old parsonage in Hudson just ahead of the ladies with our bags and our dinner in the support car. And thereafter unfolded a most enjoyable evening of eating, drinking and card-playing, and general agreement that in other circumstances we would happily stay longer in this wonderfully furnished, arty 3 bedroom apartment.

The superb Erie Canal cycle trail once again delivered an excellent day’s cycling for us as we advanced another 85 miles towards New York City. Today, things were a little different. First, the weather was mostly cool and cloudy, with little sign of the sun. It gave everything a distinctly autumnal feel. It is raining overnight tonight, the first I have seen since way back in Montana, I think, so I can hardly complain.

Also today, the landscape seemed to turn more bumpy, with the broad Mohawk River, which doubled as the Erie Canal, confined between low wooded hills on both sides. We tracked Interstate 90 for quite a few miles today, as well as the usual freight train tracks, and the towns we saw had a much more industrial feel about them, which at times made them feel a little run down.

There were some attractive places, too. I especially liked our brunch stop in Little Falls, where old stone mills – now containing arty cafes – lined the fast flowing river. It put me in mind of New Mills in Derbyshire, which is “a bit like” Little Falls. Or so I thought. I also thought it all felt a lot like Western Pennsylvania, where my wife Jenni grew up.

Later in the afternoon, we stopped for cake in a fancy place right on the bike trail in the town of Amsterdam. It was predominantly a restaurant, with under cover outside tables. I asked the hostess if it was the kind of place we could get coffee and cake. The poor girl looked at me a little bewildered and said “we have Italian food”. But, as it turned out, they also had a fabulous array of deserts and were happy to sell us an afternoon treat. This more than compensated for my Cappuccino, which bore no resemblance to any I have ever had elsewhere.

The day slipped by in a long, broad strip of concrete or tarmac bike trail, and on these smooth surfaces we went a good bit faster than the two previous days. It was excellent riding.

There were some other cyclists out today. I would say that they were mostly older, slower and considerably more covered in warm clothing than the two of us. But it was good to see the trails being used. There seemed to be a few groups of cyclists making bicycle trips across New York state, staying overnight at various points. Everyone seems a bit surprised at how far we have come and are going. I am glad we are not trying to go further; but so far it has been very comfortable.

We left the canal for the final couple of miles and passed through the middle of Schenectady. It is bigger than I expected and quite a mixed bag. There is a development of fancy new apartments facing the marina and the river, but a couple of miles across town we passed though quite a deprived looking area with several boarded up homes and businesses, where it felt best to keep moving.

Tomorrow we will reach the Hudson Valley where we turn south. We may be doing so in drizzle. You can’t avoid it forever!

The beautiful weather continues and today we enjoyed another ninety miles of delightful canalside riding eastwards across upstate New York. It turns out that there is more than one Erie Canal. Who knew? The original canal was completed in 1825, helping to open up the westward expansion of America. However, the canal was widened – most notably in the early twentieth century – leaving considerable sections of the original route disused. We spent long periods today following this original channel, now mostly overgrown but still identifiably a man made canal. Some of these sections were single-track, but most were wide enough to ride side by side.

It was quite a surprise when at one stage this afternoon the signs delivered us back alongside a lock on the main, operational waterway. Everything suddenly seemed awfully big, especially when compared to the tiny little boat that was making its way at the time through the huge lock. According to the young lock keeper, use of the canal is free to the public and a major cost to the state of New York. Everything is automated and it takes about ten minutes for the huge locks to fill or drain, moving boats up and down so ingeniously.

Today’s ride took us through the city of Syracuse, which has a very impressive central square with fountains, sculptures and a collection of taller Art Deco style civic buildings. We would have lingered, but this journey requires us to keep moving east and we had already enjoyed a longish coffee break, where I had listened to and joined in with a large and eclectic group of people practicing their Spanish. How much easier it is to understand when no one is a native speaker!

Late lunch was enjoyed from a deli on the pavement in the sun in the small canal town of Canastota. A couple of doors along the street was a pizza shop, and a couple of men in high visibility jackets emerged and walked past us with big pizza boxes. At the end of the street was a railway bridge with a freight train engine parked halfway across it. We were a little surprised to see the men scramble up the bank beside the bridge and climb up into the cab of the train! I guess long distance train drivers also need sustenance.

The last big town before Utica, our destination, was Rome. The town came into being because of the building of a fort, Fort Stanwix, by the British, in 1758, on the site of an important Indian canoe portage. It became a major trading post and featured in various wars in the years that followed. The impressive wooden structure, with its four diamond shaped defensive corners, has been reconstructed, complete with surrounding ditches, and is now a national monument.

It felt like the right time to introduce Simon to the delights of root beer, my beverage of choice. It was his first time; but he took to it quickly. When in Rome…

Day two following the Erie Canal and another truly beautiful day of perfect weather and great scenery. There were at least three unforeseen incidents today: a puncture, a bicycle seat failure and a boat rescue, all of which underline the importance of including contingency in your plans, as well as the need to think your way around problems.

We had only been going for under an hour when we heard a small pinging noise come from Simon’s new bike, and then another a few seconds later. It was about then that he realised his seat was slipping from under him. Close analysis of the bike path revealed a lost nut; but most of the metal parts that held the saddle to the seat post had disappeared for good. There was no way he could ride without anything to sit upon. This was potentially quite serious, but by an unlikely stroke of luck, this happened right outside a large branch of REI, a major cooperative chain of outdoor stores in the USA. They have a big bike department and workshop and were able to find Simon a replacement seat post with all the necessary fixings to reconnect his seat. And all for ten dollars. If it had happened almost anywhere else, we were in trouble. Amazing.

The day continued with pleasant riding, always close to the canal, passing through towns large and small, where we stopped a couple of times for sustenance. There was nothing not to like. A few boats came past as we rode by and friendly waves were exchanged. It was that kind of morning.

Later in the afternoon, a couple of men aboard a smallish boat called to us for help. They were trying to pull up against a dock to moor but had managed to get their keel stuck in the mud and couldn’t move. They were stuck several metres out in the water, stranded. They threw us a rope which Simon tied up on the quayside. With their engine in reverse, they were then able to wind in the rope until it was taut, pulling them free.

Rescue complete, we pushed on and found that the final section of today’s ride was back on the road, although it had a shoulder wide enough for us to ride two abreast. Twenty minutes into this, I suffered a sudden flat tyre on my front wheel. Since this was the first of the trip on this wheel, and today I passed 3,000 miles of cycling, I think that is good going. I changed it with surprising ease and efficiency and we were back on our way, reaching the hotel in Weedsport ahead of our bags. In the circumstances, I think we can be forgiven for heading back along the Main Street to the local brewpub to enjoy an Oktoberfest pint.

How different it was today to ride pannier-free. And what a beautiful day to start following the Erie Canal. This is a substantial waterway, 351 miles long and built in the early nineteenth century as a major commercial route for shipping between the Atlantic Ocean and the Great Lakes. Today, almost 200 years since it opened, it is used mainly by pleasure craft; but it remains very much an active waterway with regular lift and swing bridges every few miles, many of which appear to be permanently manned.

We only saw a few boats moving on the water today; but one of them was a paddle steamer moving through the only locks of the day in Lockport, where there is a substantial drop in altitude. The rest of the time we more or less had the towpath to ourselves, and it made for a very pleasant day of riding for Simon and myself.

We have a few more days of this before we reach Albany, probably on Monday, but that is not an unpleasant thought. We passed through a series of towns and villages today, like Gasport and Albion, that kept us fed and watered, and very pleasant they were too.

There was also wildlife to enjoy. We saw many herons, egrets and even a few kingfishers out on the water, and deer on the banks. It is a peaceful and altogether attractive way to journey from west to east across upstate New York.

Niagara Falls is a very touristy place, but you wouldn’t want to miss it. Not if you are in the vicinity, certainly. Which I most definitely was. The falls by day were every bit as magical as the falls by night, with the sun creating rainbows in the mist. You can walk right along the northern edge of the gorge between the American Falls, next to the Rainbow Bridge international crossing point, right up as far as the magnificent Horseshoe Falls, above which you are more or less at water’s level. That means you are level with the sudden and spectacular drop when it occurs with such drama. The volume of water is almost too great to comprehend. Where does it all keep coming from? The Niagara River, just a little further upstream, is a very broad affair, so it is no wonder that it makes such a commotion as it comes crashing down through the somewhat narrower gorge. The drop of horseshoe falls is approximately 185m, and that is enough to create a huge plume of mist rising high into the air above the middle of the horseshoe.

There are various places from which to view this spectacle, including the “Maid of the Mist” boat trip in the foaming gorge below the falls, a zip wire ride high above the river, and the tunnels that were bored into the cliffs behind the falls over one hundred years ago. This last option was included in my ticket to the viewing platforms right at the bottom of the horseshoe falls; literally “beneath the falls”. It was worth the ticket price, more for the platforms than the tunnels, which are just a view down a shaft of a lot of white water and spray, with the accompanying noise you would expect. Standing outside at the foot of the falling water, though, was breath taking. How anyone ever survived going over is hard to imagine.

In the middle of the afternoon, I bumped into some friends. It was meant to happen and it worked out very well. I am riding the last eight days in to New York City in the company of my mate Simon, and he and his wife and daughter had walked across the bridge from the USA to enjoy the better views on the Canadian side. A couple of hours later, I collected my bike and cycled across the bridge to join them at their parked car. The bridge afforded another fabulous view of the whole gorge from high above; but l couldn’t stop to take pictures because I had to cross as a vehicle, away from the sides.

It was not an incident free entrance to the USA. The immigration official couldn’t find the exit stamp she wanted in my passport, which apparently I should have received in Algonac. I’m not sure I have had my passport stamped at all in recent border crossings; but she felt it necessary to send me upstairs and I was placed at the mercy of an empty waiting room with CCTV cameras and no obvious sign what would happen next. They had my passport, so I couldn’t go anywhere. After about ten minutes I was called through into another empty room, where I gave sufficiently good answers and showed a ticket out of the USA, which was enough to receive the missing stamp. I was charged six dollars for the privilege. None of this took very long, and everyone was polite enough, I suppose; but honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly, would it?

Rainbow Bridge

Simon and I cycled an enjoyable hour along the banks of the impressive Niagara River in the direction of Buffalo, stopping when we reached our motel, and then dining out in greater style than I have enjoyed this trip, in honour of Elinor’s birthday. So it has been a relaxing and enjoyable day before the hard work starts again after breakfast tomorrow. I have arrived in New York, my final US state of this ride, and it will take the next eight days to cross at an average of roughly 75 miles a day.

And so begins another new phase of the trip, during which I will experience the novelty of company! I have ridden mostly alone for more than a month and close to 3,000 miles and this is my eleventh state, plus a province. It will make a nice change!

First, apologies for failing to press the publish button late last night. My bad. So please don’t overlook yesterday’s post. And then read on below…

Day 35: I cycled another 80 fantastic miles today, right along the north eastern Lake Erie shore, and then along the Welland Canal to reach one of the tackiest places I know. Niagara Falls (at least on the Canadian side) is like a poor man’s Las Vegas, or perhaps more like Blackpool. Except it has the falls, which changes everything.

Despite the best efforts of man to ruin the hinterland, there is no denying that the falls themselves are absolutely magnificent and worth all the effort of getting here. Apart from a brief glimpse when I first arrived, I have so far just seen them illuminated in an ever-changing array of colours. Even from quite a distance away, they are magnificent. You hear the roar and feel the spray in the air from afar. You can’t get very close. But you don’t need to. And however long you look, and however many pictures and videos you take, you always feel you have not done it justice. Which, of course, you haven’t.

I’m looking forward to more daylight falls action tomorrow. There won’t be much cycling to do. But I do have an international frontier to cross at some stage, and then a hotel to find and a rendezvous to make. Other than that it is basically a rest day – the last one planned before New York City. It is well earned. I calculate I have cycled 985 miles since my bike was serviced in Minneapolis 12 days ago. And so it is perhaps no surprise that I found myself in a bike shop today. Twice.

I discovered my back tyre was flat this morning in Simcoe. I suspected I might have a very slow puncture yesterday; but after I put a bit more air in it rode just fine, so I wasn’t quite sure. Now I could be. Luckily there was a bike shop two streets away from my accommodation, so before anything else, I popped in and got fully inflated. They had a couple of Nottingham-built Raleigh bikes in for servicing, which took me back in time. As a student I lived for a time quite near the old factory, when it was still working. Now it is all a swish new university campus, bearing the Raleigh name. But no bikes are made there today, sadly.

My first cycling move today was back to the Lake Erie shore at a town called Port Dover. Rain had been forecast for this morning but instead we just got clouds and a helpful breeze blowing off the lake. The waters today were more of a green grey colour with bigger waves; but that didn’t stop a couple of brave souls from having a swim. I watched from the beach cafe where I had a fishy brunch of clam chowder and a couple of pieces of Lake Erie perch.

The warm breeze whisked me along and for many miles the small lakeside road hugged the water’s edge, passing a continuous ribbon of very modest lake homes. There was nothing fancy and you couldn’t have been closer to the lake for uninterrupted views. Yet weirdly, despite the many homes, I saw not a single shop, bar, pub or anything else in 15 miles of lake front communities.

By the end of that I was ready for lunch. I had stopped once to add air to my back tyre, and that was when I noticed how threadbare it had become. Not good. But not altogether surprising after not far off 3,000 miles of cycling with rear panniers. It was time to replace it with a new one. As luck would have it, the very next town, Dunnville, had a rare bike shop right in the centre. Perfect. So while a I ate lunch in a vegan cafe called Minga, a kind man replaced both tyre and inner tube, and I was ready to go again. Seamless. He was fooled by my brakes being set up the British way, with the front brake to the right. Beware if you ever rent a bike in North America. The brakes are the other way around!

The next section of riding was through flat lands away from the lake and it felt like I was back in Lincolnshire, especially when a long road, running alongside a drainage channel filled with water lilies, arrived at a small village called Wainfleet. Beer lovers may know that Wainfleet in Lincolnshire is the home of the very excellent Bateman’s Brewery, about to celebrate its 150th anniversary. I am rather partial to a pint of XXXB and I wondered if there was anything similar in its Canadian namesake. There wasn’t much here. But there was a luxury chocolate shop, obviously. So I went inside and used it as an excuse to spend up the very small amount of Canadian currency I had on my person, before I leave the country tomorrow. Perfect.

The mighty Welland

Then I followed the dyke another five miles until arriving at a broad -some would even say mighty – river that also took a Lincolnshire name. This was the River Welland, and it took me to a large town of the same name, where I came to a very tall lifting bridge over the even bigger Welland Canal, linking together Lakes Ontario and Erie for big ships. I couldn’t cross the bridge because it was one-way only, coming towards me. I couldn’t work that out, but it didn’t matter because I was presented with a very nice cycle path along the canal bank, taking me in the right direction. Lots of people were out sculling on the calm water and I decided this was all meant to be. And then it got even better.

At a point that looked like everywhere else, I saw a sign for a free pedestrian and bicycle ferry, open until dusk. This took me over to Port Robinson. It was great fun and I was clearly giving the ferry lady something to do. I noticed old photographs by the jetty and it became clear that a large bridge stood here until 1974, when it was hit by a passing ship when it failed to raise in time, bringing it catastrophically down into the water. No one was badly injured; but the entire bridge was scrapped. There are some pretty cool old photos on Google images. The ferry people also mentioned 2 large ships colliding here in 2020 (see YouTube). And to complete the set, in 2001 another ship was reduced to scrap when the Allanburg bridge, just a few miles north, was lowered onto a passing bulk container, which then caught fire.

I made it safely across and soon I was staring in wonder both at Niagara Falls and at the competing tall buildings that cluster on the bluff above the gorge, trying to offer rooms or restaurants with a view. It’s pretty ugly.