CT, the park maintenance guy, liked to chat with visitors. It was from him that we learned of the terrorists in Toronto the week before, which explained the absurdly large number of border patrol officers we had seen along the river the night before.
We took the multi-use trail to the falls, and wandered from vista to vista, awe-struck by the incredible power of the water cascading over rocks and sheer cliffs.
After our liesurely stroll around the park, we got back on our bikes and continued south. We hit Buffalo, and again we were forced to navigate the convoluted nature of traffic in a downtown urban area. When our origninal route decided to transform into an interstate, we took an array of small roads and bike paths in an effort to follow the river. Our plan worked; soon we were out of the city and cruising on a more bike-friendly section of our route. I caught a glimpse of a 2-lane bike highway in a park to my right, but was resistant to find an entrance to it, for fear that it would end without warning. Miles passed, and the bike highway remained paralell to my inferior route. I continued to stare longingly at the lane, possibly even drooling a little at the sight of such a beautiful bike space. Eventually, the yearning became too intense, and I dipped across another road to access the bike highway.
Aaah...a trail made for me! How nice to feel acknowledged.
