The restaurant had not been open last night but it was this morning, and it was a bountiful smorgasbord; they even had an omelet station. I sat in the rocking chair outside afterward and listened to hymns playing on outside speakers; I love to people-watch, and there were all sorts walking by on their way to and from breakfast, taking turns for photos at the large statue of the Amish man, accurately depicting a beard but no mustache.
On the way out of Strasburg, Martha spotted this: an Amish farmer (dressed like the statue we had just left behind) standing up on his plow with a team of horses, plowing a field in the morning light.
Power lines hung low over the field, and the high-voltage towers carrying them were visible in the background. But there were no service lines to these Amish homes as this farmer continued the age-old practice of plowing, defiantly off the Grid.
We had a beautiful drive through Pennsylvania countryside and into New York, the Alleghenies on one side and then the Susquehanna River on the other. Birch and Frazer Fir trees started to appear, northern trees, and there was less and less green on the hillsides as these trees had not yet started to leaf out. There are beautiful little towns in this part of the country, grand old homes built during a previous golden era lining the river, but also plenty of rusted railroad trestles, abandoned houses, and boarded-up factories: the Rust Belt in all its glory!
We stopped to find some lunch in Williamsport, PA, a surprisingly large and thriving city, and once again Martha spotted a sign on the way into the city for the Bullfrog Brewery, which provided some good sandwiches and hearty soups.
A talented artist had painted the walls of this old brick building (partially seen above) in a huge display of interconnecting murals. You can find art in the most unexpected of places.
And finally, at the end of the day, we were there: Niagara Falls. It is surprising how much distance you can travel in only three or four days! We were staying at the Comfort Inn, directly across from the Falls, and Martha had determined in advance that we should be on the sixth floor - as close as we could get to the falls, this thundering natural wonder of the world, Lake Erie continually emptying into Lake Ontario. On the brink of the falls stood visitors from Asia, from Africa, from all corners of the world.
This amazing sight: water roaring over the falls! Simply astonishing The brink of the falls at Prospect Point was filled with people from every nation on earth, taking photos, wonder-struck before this natural beauty.
It reminded me of the Grand Canyon in some way, except that instead of silence there was this roar, this thunder, that continued all night long. We ate dinner at an interesting place called Savor, which was staffed by students (and teachers) of the Culinary Institute of Niagara Falls. It was wonderful! Our server, Greg, it turned out, was an instructor.
And after dinner we walked back over to the Falls to simply stand and listen to this water rushing forever forward.
We slept with our windows open, there on the end room on the sixth floor, and we could hear this soothing, thundering sound all through the night while we slept.
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