The Day I Whirlpooled in Niagara Falls Ontario

 

I don’t remember precisely when it was anymore. It was, I am sure, sometime in the early mid-1990s. I was doing postgraduate work at university and borrowed a friend’s car—she called it the Beast—and drove down to Niagara Falls, Ontario to camp with my son Alan, who was still in his teens, and his mum, Rachel. 

Rachel, who had lived in India for a time, made us a very tasty meal of Indian—which region I don’t recall—for dinner that first night. I love Indian cuisine. The next day we did the usual things everyone does in Niagara Falls. We drove through the city taking in the touristy sites. We went to the Falls. We took a ride on the Maid of the Mist and got misty. We had a meal in a beautiful landscaped local park. We went to the Niagara River Whirlpool. 

At the Whirlpool we hiked down the trail and onto the rocky beach of this geological wonder and marvel where the water spins like a whirlpool. For some reason I decided that I wanted to feel what it was like to be whirlpooled by the river though it was probably illegal and certainly moronic. So I got into the river, grabbed on to the rocks and soil of its bottom and let my body move with that of the water. It was an amazing experience. Alain and Rachel eventually came in to the water as well though I don’t remember if they followed my idiotic example or not.

I paid for my stupidity later, however. For about a week my asthma acted up and my breathing was laboured. Was it the chemical bath? I did eventually recover living to tell the tale of the day I whirlpooled in the Niagara River near Niagara Falls, Ontario.