This is the way Bayard Taylor told the world about it after he had been here :
“The water is already foaming as it leaps from the summit, and the successive waves, as they are whirled into the air, and feel the gusts which forever revolve around the abyss, drop into beaded fringes in falling and go fluttering down like scarfs of the richest lace. It is not water, but the spirit of water. The bottom is lost in a shifting, snowy film, . . . and around this vision of perfect loveliness rise the awful walls, wet with spray which never dries, and crossed by ledges of dazzling turf, from the gulf so far below our feet, until, still further above our heads, they lift their irregular cornices against the sky.
“I do not think I am extravagant when I say that the Riukan Fos is the most beautiful cataract in the world. . . . Not alone during that half hour of fading sunset, but day after day and night after night, the embroidered spray wreaths of the Riukan were falling before me.”
Now turn and look across the gulf.