Maid of the mist


The boat started to sail. Over 300 people in blue ponchos stood inside the boat eagerly looking at the waters below and the waterfall ahead. We were on the opposite end of the Maid of the Mist. Less crowded. Facing the Rainbow bridge which connected US and Canada. Many rushed to the upper deck of the Maid of the Mist VII (yes, there have been six others since 1846), many clung to the railing. Every one wanted to be sprayed at by the mist. And then we inched closer to the Niagara Falls. We were in, what looked from above, a cloud of white. As we stood watching water drop from 120 feet, we wondered if Pam and Jim were standing where we were, when they took their vows. Our faces drenched, we looked at a clout of buildings rise on the Canadian side. It was exciting to know that we would touch and pass a whole new country. Then the height rose. The water dropped now from a height of 188 feet. The majestic Horseshoe falls. Can you imagine falling from that height? Apparently many daredevils try it. And a 63-year-old lady was the first to survive. But in a barrel, that she designed herself. The journey ended as soon as it began, we climbed off the boat, and watched as the sun dipped, and a window of spotlight shone on the falls. As if before an audience, the water gushed, fell, and splashed. A move that it has mastered over the last 12000 years.

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The end.

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