Escarpment

    Visiting Niagara Falls one time, I stood by the thundering torrent on a foggy misty morning, and watched the dawn slowly lightening over the chasm. Presently, a shirtless jogger appeared, and he stopped alone on the edge of the precipice, and roared out into the abyss, his arms outstretched over the void. Then he looked around at me and smiled, laughed, and trotted off. Later, when the observation deck on the tower opened (American side), I spent a few hours there, watching the clear sunshiny day unfold over the gorge, the swift current churning away far below. Waves of tourists would roll out onto the deck, pose prettily and take pictures, and roll away back to their bus, leaving the tower quiet again. Then the next wave would roll in, they would take pictures and then roll away, chattering happily. I felt like I was in a film noir, where time was standing still for me, while everything around me was moving at unnatural speed.

    On another visit, I stood at the edge of the thundering abyss, at 4 o'clock on a bitter cold predawn morning in January. Everything was heavily coated in white ice: trees, sidewalks, railings, all half obscured in the swirling frigid mist rolling down the gorge. I stood transfixed with awe, slowly freezing as I stood; I had an ephemeral perception of what I imagined was a ghost; ghosts, flittering through the billowing roaring greyness. Something is here... Then I saw something else; two figures appeared out of the fog, walking briskly towards me; "Is that your van, sir?" Park rangers had seen me pull in. 

    "Yes, sir, it is." 

    Then they told me, "The park is closed to the public, due to icy conditions. Did you not see the barriers?" They asked to see my identification. "And your van is pointed in the wrong direction. Do you not know that you can be liable for some very serious fines here?" I told them I didn't doubt it; however, I had not passed any barriers; I had entered by the road that said "No Entry; Park Service Vehicles Only." I didn't think anyone would be around to mind it, at that hour. Then one of them asked me, "You aren't thinking of doing anything," he paused. "Of hurting yourself, maybe?" The other officer was giving me an intense squint. 

    "What?! Of course not! I'm traveling through, and I pulled a long detour to come see the falls. I'm sorry if I'm a bit irregular, but I just wanted to look at the falls." Then they told me that they had had a presumed suicide here just a week previously; a man had been seen entering the park and was never found; presumed dead over the falls. They told me that the night watch was on high alert for unauthorized entry to the park; over the years there had been many suicides here, and they were usually at this very time and season of midwinter. I assured them that I would never do anything to hurt the park, or myself; that I loved the park. They relaxed somewhat. I asked them if I could stay for a short while, and they directed me to a different observation point, which was a short drive away, and open to the public 24 hours. 

    One officer told me, "But these roads are very treacherous; my partner fell down on the ice, just approaching your van back there." 

    "Oh, I'm truly sorry. I'll be quite careful." I went back to my van, the nuisance, me, and drove to the other spot, and got out to gaze over the falls again. But I felt the nervous eyes of those officers watching me from the distance, and this spot was brightly lit with glaring white lights, and I couldn't recapture the spell. The ghosts were elusive, or they had fled. And I was cold. I got back in my car and left soon afterwards; I knew that the officers would be relieved to see my taillights receding into the night. But my mind was unsettled; when I got back onto the highway and the miles were spooling out behind me, I was oppressed by sadness; my thought kept drawing me back to that enchanted spot; that haunted thundering cataract, eternally hinting at an epiphany that never comes.