Niagara Falls

I decided that while I was traveling around the Great Lakes I might as well visit Niagara Falls before the passport requirement kicked-in on June 1. I left Michigan early one morning and headed east around the southern shore of Lake Erie. I had never seen Pennsylvania's Lake Erie shoreline so I was curious to pass through the area. I had been to Niagara Falls before but it had been many years.

I drove around Lake Erie and got a hotel room very near the bridge from the US into Canada. I could easily walk there and I did. The only thing I carried across the border with me was my camera, my wallet and a copy of my birth certificate that I had 'over-nighted' by UPS to Michigan from the state records office in Idaho. The first time I walked across the bridge into Canada the nice woman asked if I had a copy of it. I replied that I did. She told me she didn't need to see it but they might ask on my way back in. She smiled, told me to have fun and gladly allowed me into Canada.

It was evening but the area is beautiful any time of day or night. I met a freind of mine that lives near Toronto on the other side of the door into Canada. We wandered about the Falls area and had a nice dinner in town. The nice Canadian border guard was correct as they did want to see my birth certificate on the way back in. I had to wander if they would really deny me entry?

The following morning I got up early and wanted to head back over there. It was warm and humid. There was a lot of fog/mist in the air. It was beautiful. I walked onto the bridge and realized how high it is above the turbid water below. The walkway is adjacent to the roadway. There is nothing but a hand rail that separates the walkway from a LONG FALL. It's hundreds of feet; I didn't like it. I am sure the view was beautiful as I contemplated kicking up my pace from a quick walk to a jog as I was the only one walking the bridge at that time. I certainly was NOT going to stop to appreciate the view and take any pictures until I got to the other side of the bridge where there was a wall. That's where I could stop to take pictures and a 'breather,' too, as I was 'hoofin' it.' I really did just want to get to the other side.

I had checked out of my hotel room. I was just going across to take a walk and some cool pictures of the falls with the morning fog, too. The sun was begining to burn-off the clouds and with the flowers along the promenade it really was very cool. I spent more time there than I planned as it was so beautiful.

I crossed the bridge back into the US; anticipated easy crossing just like the night before. Again, all I had was my camera, my wallet and my birth certificate. Sorry to say, the US Border Guard must not have been a 'morning' person. I was a bit surprised by his suspicion.

I approached the 'check area' as directed. I had my drivers license out to present to him and all I had was my camera bag. He took my license and entered into his data system. He asked if I was employed in the United States. I said, 'Yes.' He said 'What do you do?' I replied, 'I'm the Cable guy.' That was a completely honest response and the quickest way for me to say what otherwise would be my official job title, 'field service representative.' He seemed to think I was joking somehow. Ugh.

He asked who I worked for and for how long? I told him.
He asked for my passport. I told him I had my birth certificate. He sternly warned me of the impending change in a few days. I produced the folded, torn copy from my camera bag. I unfolded it, handed it to him and apologized for it being torn. He took it, looked at me and asked, 'Why don't you have the original?'

I looked at him and said, 'Sir, my father was a West Point graduate and an Air Force pilot. I came along as the family moved around the country in Idaho. Do you want to know how many times I moved from the time I was born there...until now?' I wondered if I was going to have to tell him my paternal roots go back to Chester County, PA...1732. The first 'native American' son was born that year of Welsh parents and went on to become Lieutenant in the Revolutionary Army.

He examined my birth certificate and the information on his computer monitor, handed the certificate back to me and allowed me entry back into my country. Whew!

I joked with my friends that dad would have rolled over in his grave had I not been allowed back in. The guard was a bit of a jerk. I resented my 'American credentials' being questioned; especially when it's just me and my camera, ya know? I grew up all over the US, how much more 'all American' can you be?

I understand the need for border security but it was just me...'All-American son of the Revolution,' ya know?

Another beautiful summer weekend here in NE US.
Hope all's well where you are, too.

'night