No free lunch at Niagara Falls but there is … free parking! Would you believe it? Chicago, Illinois, then moving west fetching up in a motel in Valentine, Nebraska. It’s getting cold.
As the Mr Henry Institute starts to seriously move west across the north of the USA, one thing is becoming clear. The northern hemisphere’s moving into winter is manifesting itself beyond Graniteville, Vermont. For that reason, Mrs Henry and myself are currently not encamped but enmotelled in Valentine, Nebraska.
Could Graniteville and Valentine as travel destinations ever be more romantically polarised by name? No, they couldn’t, but they do have one thing in common: it’s cold.
“Bloody cold”, as Mrs Henry prefers to phrase it.
To summarise the facts of the Mr Henry Institute’s expedition since our previous post, the Institute called into Niagara Falls, Chicago specifically, Illinois generally, Ohio and Iowa and is now poised to ‘do’ the Badlands and Mount Rushmore in South Dakota.
No wonder we are feeling a bit tired (“Bloody tired!”), but we will keep going in the interest of scientific discovery. It’s a burden, but, you know, we will do our job, testing a theory that people living through brutal winters are taciturn to prevent loss of body heat through the mouth opening. Mrs Henry certainly hasn’t acted to preserve her body heat, saying bloody cold instead of just cold and generally chatting away as if she were lolling about poolside in the grounds of a Bali hotel.
Over to Niagara Falls. In a country that commercialises the be-jesus out of everything, to park for free when visiting one of its foremost iconic sights may have to be rated as superior to the sight in question itself. Yes, dear donors, the parking at Niagara Falls was unbelievable. We parked the Egg and said – because we are slowly beginning to speak like Americans: “We dee-yust key-ant believe this!”
The Canadian side of the Falls is supposed to be superior (and it is), but if you start from the American side, you don’t know that. It’s just hearsay at that point. Being able to walk along the rapids up to the point where the water almost lazily slips over the edge of the American Falls, well, you dee-yust key-ant believe it!
Because the Canadian side offers a complete view of the American Falls and the Horseshoe Falls, it does much better commercially. The American side has a few forlorn souvenir shops with tired-looking, gum-chewing, seriously overweight shop assistants, the elbow of the arm on the counter supporting their heads, dreaming about the next Slayer concert they will attend. The streets around these shops consist of vacant lots and abandoned buildings. It’s a slum, frankly.
So after enjoying the American side, Mrs Henry and myself repaired across the Rainbow Bridge to the Canadian side and had lunch in a restaurant right on top of the Horseshoe Falls. Mrs Henry chose the chowder, I opted for the Sir Isaac Brock Bison Burger. I asked the waitress who Sir Isaac Brock was. She did not know. She asked her supervisor.
Sir Isaac Brock KB was responsible for defending Canada against the United States in the early nineteenth century. Brock was prepared when the unexpected War of 1812 broke out and defeated American invasion efforts. His relationship with the bison was something the supervisor could not quite explain, but, with a bit of mayonnaise, Sir Isaac tasted pretty good anyway.
Mrs Henry and I returned to the American side and the Egg. We passed under Buffalo’s Peace Bridge, trucks lining up to pass into Canada, Lake Ontario a-glitter as far as the eye could see. Americans do structural steel so well.
In a previous post, I mentioned Boston’s Tobin Bridge and Fenway Park Stadium, but what about Chicago’s Skyway and what about Chicago’s train system? There isn’t a city in the world that would tolerate an elevated train system in its business district. Not even Sydney, eventually, and Sydney’s Monorail was well-maintained!
Chicago’s Loop is a heap of rusted metal that looks as though it has been screwed together by a talented four-year old and not been painted since. The combination of decay, functionality and sheer cookiness of Chicago’s Loop is a marvel.
Illinois, Ohio and Iowa are reputed to consist of cornfields only. This is true, but the subtext (that these states are boring) is erroneous. The monotony of vastness, the vastness of monotony, has a nobility and thrill all its own. Roadtrippers will know what I mean.
As mentioned, the cold has driven the Institute indoors. There is talk about road closures and three feet of snow right where the Institute wants to go. Grizzly bears are reported to be in a tizz because they haven’t quite bulked up yet and winter is already here!
Holed up in our motel, we make the best of things. It is good not to have to worm your way out of the Egg to make your way to the bath house. It’s good to have a TV, or it would be if there was anything to watch. Mrs Henry is currently talking to the TV (“Bloody crap!”) but try getting the remote off her! You have a better chance of separating a grizzly bear from an Isaac Brock Bison Burger.
