My friend came in from Ithaca this weekend for some exploring, and after some Friday night drinking and draining (making use of his crow-wrench tire iron that I took by mistake almost six years ago and *still* forgot to return), we thought we should try some new places out in Niagara Falls, see if we could find a “missile silo” someone posted on UER about a month ago. It didn’t go according to plan at all, we went around in circles looking for it, found a few fenced off vacant lots, and finally something that looked like a plausible base.
I think there were missiles under here at one time (back in the 60s, at the latest). Unfortunately, all that’s left is about a 10 foot drop into stagnant mosquito water. No missiles, and no structures solid enough to explore down there.
At least there was a shed to explore? A serious waste of effort is all this was.
So we continued on to Niagara Falls, and went to one of our old favorite spots instead, the Tesla power plant.
We climbed to the top, but there wasn’t much of any view out the window.
And someone had been using it as an epic paintball field.
There are certain ingredients which are, whether we try or not, absolutely integral parts of our adventures. Along with the tire iron, there’s the inevitable car trouble, getting a special kind of lost, attempts to sing along to “Ásilos Magdalenas” with more passion than vocal range, and our life-long frenemy Mother Nature always trying to fuck shit up on us yet again. This time, on a beautiful May afternoon, we saw Her wrath in the form of a thick, sopping fog in Buffalo’s main drain that prevented any possible photos that didn’t look like this:
But, before we left, the steam cleared out, and we cooked up a piece of pi.
Fuck Mighty Taco.
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