Splashin’ Around Indian Falls
For the past week the airport brushed my job under a rug. Five days passed since I last worked. The weather never cooperates in Buffalo, but the issue for them involves safety. The airport holds a meeting Saturday to determine the verdict. This shutdown cost me a few hundred dollars, maybe more, depending if we close for the rest of the season or not. Despite all the chaos, I found light from the misfortunes of work.
The last five days I roamed all over the towns of Akron and Buffalo both solo and in groups. Clarence pathway set the direction for most of my travels. Bright green fields of mint ran on for acres until brushing upon the roadways and feed silos in the distance. I took Werhle Drive until finding a small opening in the fence-line between a home and active quarry.
With prior knowledge of the work shutdown, setting up camp on-site, between the trees, for a peaceful slumber made for an eventful night. Without that knowledge, I left the premises after a short-lived exploration attempt. Many antennae, silos and equipment stood in the yard, unexplored.
I made attempts to go back, but the site remained too active to explore without the risk of trespassing charges. I ended up directing my exploration down Akron Road until veering a hard left onto Gilmore. Speeding down the hill, I heard the rush of the falls bellowing off the trees to my left.
I set my bike down behind brush and hobbled down the dirt path towards the flowing, clear, water. A cinder block from a parking lot space sprawled out across the ground making it possible for me to reach the falls.
I put one foot in front of the other using my hands to balance as to not fall in the rushing water. After reaching the other side, I hopped a few rocks and proceeded to follow on down the stream. I down-climbed a few slippery rocks, stepping in gooey mud, clasping onto the rocks above to keep from falling into the falls. I sat down and snapped a few pictures with my GoPro. The sound of vehicles, tractors, factories and society muffled behind the ripples and rapid flow of the water plunging off the rocks into the stream below.
I basked in the sun, enjoying the peaceful chatter of the falls, dipping my head into the brisk water to slick my hair back out of my face.
Jumping in the water, with my shoes in my hand, I began to walk back towards the dirt path. The water flowing freely around my toes and ankles made my leg hairs point out as I trekked into the shade.
I took a different path back ending up right near my bicycle. I pulled her out from under the brush and pushed her up the hill towards Route 77.
I vaguely remembered my location in comparison to the airport since I just crossed the intersection of Ledge Road. The road where I explored the abandoned concrete plant and quarry. I continued pedaling down the road passing Bloomingdale and made a left on Judge Road, which took me straight out into the reservation. I saw a few homes, barely structurally stable. Wood rotted, windows broken, doors boarded up spray painted with the words, “Keep Out!”
After passing the vacant homes all that existed merely forests of dark green and fields of wild flowers with large powerlines stampeding their way over the gravel roadways.
I lost signal on my phone and it appeared the roads did not connect back to the town of Akron so I turned around. I heard a “pizzzzzzzz” followed by a thud sound. My back tube popped. I sat on the side of the road, about 8 miles away from the airport, in the middle of an Indian Reservation. I trekked back walking slowly as I pushed my bike out of the reservation. Stopping at Jan’s to grab a drink and venturing through the high school to take a short cut back to the trailer.