I decided to get to Niagara Falls from the Canadian side of the border because I'd heard it was pretty and I needed to justify bringing my passport all this way. I verified that I still actually had the passport and headed in the general direction of Canada. I found a bridge, took a while finding the bizarre series of ramps and walkways that bikes were required to use to get onto said bridge, and then ran into a local cycling club that very helpfully let me fall in with them to speed my trip through customs. After being in a few pictures with them and answering the usual questions about my ride, I found a small diner and used American dollars to overpay for a basic meal.
The falls themselves were pretty amazing, but some deep part of my hipster soul was turned off by the massive crowds, especially after having enjoyed relative solitude for weeks. Approaching the falls from the south, the first I could see of it was a plume of vapor rising from the river. Usually, I think of a waterfall as a narrow stream of water falling off a cliff, but no cliff face was visible. The sheer volume of the river causes it to look more like a giant hole in a lake than an actual cliff face, which was a neat effect. The weather was nice, and heavy spray from the falls shot rainbows all over the place. Apparently, the water level doesn't change much there, either, because the overlook was built close enough to the water that I was able to reach over and actually touch the water where it begins its descent.
The spray from the falls was a little much to hang out directly in front of it, so I spent a while under a tree writing things on my laptop. Eventually I fought my way through tour bus traffic and immigrated back to the American side, talked to the border agent about my trip for long enough that it seemed rude to everyone behind me, and then spent another while under another tree on the American side. I spent most of my time next to a guy who was trying to recruit members for a meditation-based religion that I'd never heard of. He seemed calm and played pleasant music, so I gave him a dollar.
Once it started getting dark, I figured I should ask Google where the hell the Erie Canal was, because that was my plan for crossing pretty much the entire state. After some wrong turns I made it to Lockport early enough that I really felt I should find a bar and socialize. I was about to try one place before I saw a "private" sign on it. I hatched a plan to "accidentally" wander in and see if I could get celebrity treatment having just biked from Oregon, because that sounded like a good story... and then I didn't follow through, which is really disappointing to report. Instead, I found the canal, navigated my way through the first lock I found, and started looking for places to sleep.
Eventually I found a raising bridge that looked like it had been out of commission for months, stuck in the raised position. I realized that the raised portion of the bridge was higher than any surrounding building and I could stash my bike among the construction detritus below it. Having already passed up one story opportunity, I couldn't pass up a unique sleeping spot. I stashed my things, lobbed my sleeping bag on top of the bridge, and then climbed up the support structure. The road surface for the raised section was a steel deck, not pavement, so I could technically be seen through the mesh if anyone looked from directly below. I walked out to the center of the span, guessing any passing barge wouldn't care if they noticed me at all, and laid down to sleep. Late that night, a group of teenagers decided to try and climb the bridge, but failed to actually make it. I went back to sleep feeling safe and smug.
Most pictures were of the falls today. Unfortunately, my camera is terrible for anything at night, so I didn't get the bridge. You can look it up on my final route and streetview it if you really want.
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