Niagara Falls: Night Scene - The Cursed and the Mist

13th July 2008


The sound of running water sounded off from a distance as I peered over the railing and through the trees to get a view of the waters below.

"Please move to the front, there is a better view there," the tour guide said in her almost-obvious Malaysian English accent.

Knowing that we only had 20 minutes to spare, we hurried along the pathway. The sound of the running water got louder and faster as we walked down the pathway, matching the increasing pace of our excited hearts. It was of little surprise really, after all, this was what we had endured more than 1o hours up the country to see. And the validation of that endurance was only footsteps away.

The pathway came to a downhill, and the trees came to a clearing, revealing to us the very validation that we seeked. Just below us, was a cliff that hung over the cascades of the falls, shrouded in a thick cloud of mist that blurred the Canadian backdrop behind it.

Mist of Night

I stood there frozen in wonder for a few seconds, staring out at the wondrous Mist. A mist so thick and so vast that served as a proof to the strength and speed of the waters that spawned it. A body of water strong and loud enough to earn itself the moniker of "Thunderous Waters". Wasting hardly anytime, I skipped down the downhill path into the park below to get more upclose and personal with the raging waters.

The sound of the waters grew louder as I made my way downhill, finally peaking at an almost deafening volume when I had reached the bottom. The stream that led to the actual cascade was fierce, raging and violent, judging from the speed in which the white foams of the waves were rushing downstream. But this was only a mild prelude of the force of the water that lay ahead.

The Falls proper were a horseshoe-shaped wonder of power. Water rushed down the cliffs at tremendous velocity and fittingly deafening volume. The vapour that sprayed from the impact of the raging waters onto the rocks below accumulated into a collective cloud of mist, shrouding the other ended of the horseshoe behind it. As the wind blew, parts of the Great Cloud fell onto the face, driving in the reality of my proximity to the fabled falls.

A Horseshoe of Rage

For some odd reason, the water spraying on my face grew more frequent. "Is it just actually raining, or is it just me?" I turned around to ask Joanne and William (a.k.a. Hot Stud).

"I think its really raining," Hot Stud replied, as he hid his friend's SLR under his jacket.

"Typical, " I said to them, "what else is new?"

Seizing the moment, I tried to grab as many photos as I could while wishing for the weather to hold out a little longer, just that little bit longer. But this has never been the case in the past, and as usual, the inevitable happened.

Through the Rain

The rain got progressively heavier until it escalated into a rapid downpour, forcing everyone to run for the nearest shelter. As I huddled under the shelter with Joanne and everyone else, shoes drenched and hair wet, she turned to me and said, "I think you are really a jinx, man. Seems like every time I travel with you, it will surely rain."

I just turned to her and forced a sheepish grin through the cold shivers, partially in recognition and partially in resentment of my fate.