It’s hard to really appreciate what we have here if we don’t take the time to look at it, smell it and touch it the way I did last weekend. 

Growing up on the Niagara Frontier, I gained a deep and abiding respect for the abundance of water that seemed to surround us.

As a kid, I slowly discovered that the water cascading over the brink of the falls was coming from and heading to places far away, that we are connected in a very real way to everything that water has ever touched and that our impact on the water will travel with it wherever it goes.

Hard to see initially because I was too close, the farther away I got, the better I began to understand the relationship that Niagara Falls has with the Great Lakes, the U.S., Canada, and the rest of the world.

When I was old enough to be curious about it, I asked my father where all the water that courses over the falls comes from and where does it go?

His answer only served to spark another series of questions: “If it is coming from Lake Erie and flowing down the river into Lake Ontario, why isn’t Lake Erie empty by now and why hasn’t Lake Ontario overflowed?”

Over the years since, I have learned more about the formation of the falls.

The retreating glaciers that carved out the Escarpment ten thousand years ago permitting the water from Lake Erie to flow northward to Lake Ontario is gradually eroding back toward Lake Erie extending the gorge, and in the process is creating some of the most spectacularly beautiful natural habitats in North America.

As Mark Goldman, author of “City on the Lake: The Challenge of Change in Buffalo, New York” said in his 1990 book when he was describing the Niagara Parkway along the Canadian shore, “It is a magnificent, beautifully landscaped, gently rolling two lane road set down gently in the landscape like a carpet ... following its fast-moving journey from a benign beginning at Lake Erie to the crashing drop at Niagara Falls,” the water is on a journey.

It was difficult, if not impossible to appreciate my proximity to this vast living, moving treasure initially because my access to it was blocked by industrial development.

The big factories blocked my view and my understanding of where I was until I was old enough to begin to explore my surroundings.

Becoming a Boy Scout probably opened me up to the concept of exploring the world around me by giving me the confidence to travel beyond my neighborhood borders, believing that I could survive “out there” on my own.

I can recall the day when my buddy and fellow scout, Tommy and I decided to crawl under the bridge on Buffalo Avenue where it crossed over Gill Creek.

We followed the creek though the factory property, out toward the river. I was amazed to discover that the two were connected, and that the river was right there, just a few hundred feet from my backyard.

That was the beginning of a whole new relationship between me, the river and the gorge.

Scouting trips to Navy Island and long hikes with Tommy by my side clinging to the gorge walls nurtured my appetite for more, and before long I was forging my own trails out past Devil’s Hole and biking my way out to Youngstown and beyond.

Last weekend I decided to take another look, so I drove over to the Buffalo Waterfront, and rediscovered my passion for the water.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, the decline of the electro chemical and related industries that once lined our waterways and dominated our economy is rapidly disappearing leaving behind a new opportunity for us all to rediscover what has been sitting there all along, the water.

Some of the proposed new development on Buffalo’s waterfront may finally open up the lake and river access to the public, and that is a good thing.

I sat at the marina and watched thousands of people of all ages, from breast feeding infants, to wheel chair bound seniors bonding with the water, some of them staring distantly beyond the horizon, being taken away on a spiritual journey with the water, relaxing.

We, most of us, have a primal need, a basic instinct; a fundamental desire to be close to the water.

People want to live near it, or at least have access to it, and for the most part, are willing to pay a premium to have it.

A primary asset, water can once again become our most valuable economic, environmental and ecological asset, not only as a source of clean hydro-power, tourism and recreation, but as a source of spiritual refreshment as well.

And why not?

Take a short trip to the water. Watch the people watching the water. Many are here, on their own personal journey to find the peace, tranquility, and refreshment that can come from its hypnotic power and magnetic magic as it ebbs and flows, swirls and cascades on its way back to the clouds.

I ended my weekend exposition with a stop at Fort Niagara where I sat on the bank of Lake Ontario watching the sunset fade into the hydro powered brightly lit Toronto skyline while the water that had not so long ago passed by the Erie Basin headed out toward Oswego and beyond.

It was spectacular in a quiet sort of way.

This week’s celebration of the one hundred year old Boundary Waters Treaty is filled with opportunities for local residents and tourists alike to kindle a fresh relationship with our bounty.

Culminating with the official celebration of a century of cooperation between Canada and the U.S. to protect our shared waters on Saturday with special events and some high profile guests at the Rainbow Bridge, the festivities began in earnest June 5 and will continue with lectures, exhibits, hikes and tours on both sides of the border.

A full schedule along with descriptions of the mostly free events is available on the Internet site: www.oursharedwaters.com.

As we on the Niagara Frontier continue to debate our future, it might be helpful for more of us to get out and take a good look at what we have here; it comes from far beyond the brink, and what we ultimately decide to do with it will travel far beyond our borders far, far away for a very, very long time.

Contact Bill at bill.bradberry@yahoo.com.