Northern Vacation- Day 7

It was another busy day in steamy Halifax.  Our first port of call was the Shearwater Aviation Museum.  Unlike the last museum, the staff at this museum were actually interactive.  An older gentleman greeted us at the door and gave us a personal tour.  As someone who doesn't know a lot about planes, it was actually nice to have someone there to tell you what makes this plane special or what that plane's purpose was.  Shearwater is a former Canadian Forces Base so there was a lot of military planes.  Jim, our guide, took us through plane after plane on our hour tour.  Leaving Shearwater, we raced across town back to the downtown area.  We were getting really good at crossing the bridges into the city; and running out of loonies (that's what everyone calls the $1 coin up here) to toss into the toll basket.

We arrived at the Citadel just in time for the daily firing of the cannon.  The Citadel is definitely one of Must Sees in Halifax.  The star-shaped fort sits at the top of Halifax's hill (I was surprised that how hilly the city was) and it offers a great panorama of the harbour below.  Not long after Halifax was founded in 1749, the first the Citadel constructed out of wood.  Obviously, the wooden fort didn't last long; especially with the wet climate of a coastal city.  In 1761, the second version of the Citadel was begun; mainly because there was a worry that the pesky neighbors from down south would attack since they hadn't been very happy lately.  This one was wood as well and again didn't last too long.  In 1796, they tried again and started on the third edition.  This time the threat was the French and like the previous incarnations, the third Citadel didn't see any action (unless you count wood rot as action).  In 1828, they finally got it right and decided to go with stone instead of wood.  It was designed in a star formation with an outer wall and (for lack of a better word) moat running the entire length to protect the fort.  As our guide put it; if attackers made it up the hill (trust me, they'd be pretty winded), avoided the bullets coming over the crest, didn't break their legs jumping/falling into the moat, avoided the volleys of bullets while inside the moat and were able to scale the inner wall then
they were more then welcome to have the fort.  Thankfully that never happened.  The newest version of the Citadel didn't see anymore action than the previous ones.  Today it is set up to look like it would have during the Victorian Era.  Living history re-enactors, dressed as the 78th (Highland) Regiment of Foot, greet people at the fort and take them on a pretty in-depth tour.  I couldn't help but feel sorry for the re-enactors on this day.  They were kitted out in heavy wool kilts and coats.  If that wasn't enough, most of them had to wear heavy hats ladened down with a tower of ostrich and vulture feathers.  Not the thing you want to be wearing on a nearly 100 degree day.  I was really surprised that the band of pipers, who not only had to lug around their sheep bladder instruments but also had even more woolen tartan hanging from their shoulder, weren't passed out on the parade ground.  Heck, I was ready to pass out after all that direct sun!

As you can probably guess from the little history of the Citadel, Halifax was long concerned with attacks.  So it's not surprising that there are quite a few forts and towers around the harbour.  There were five various defensive stations that were built to protect the harbour for attacks from sea or land.  We headed down to the southern tip to take a look at one of the towers.  The Prince of Wales Tower is the oldest martello tower in North America, having been built in 1796/97.  Martello towers were the favorite of the British Empire and can be found from Australia to Sri Lanka; Guernsey to South Africa.  It's a pretty basic building and was used to defend the port against any enemy ships that might attempt to come in to Halifax.  On top of it's large round roof, up to six guns would be able to fire out onto any threat.  Much like the other military installations in Halifax, The Prince of Wales Tower was never used in battle.         




We headed back to the car and the much loved air conditioning.  We drove farther out of Halifax; off to see another fort (sheesh, they have as many forts as Wales has castles!).  Fort York Redoubt sits closer to the entrance of Halifax harbour is was like the gatekeeper to the rest of the harbour.  On one side was the fort, on the other was Fort McNab.  The fort was built in 1793 when France and Great Britain went to war.  During World War I, it was used as barracks and during World War II, it played an important part in protecting the harbour from U-boat attacks.  There wasn't exactly a lot to explore, it was mostly just outdoor views.  From the gun batteries you could look over the entrance to the harbour over to McNab Island and the lighthouse at Maugher Beach.  We wandered around the big guns and down creepy hallways that led out into the woods.  But our day wasn't quite over yet so we hit the road again.



Our last stop of the day was outside of Halifax at Peggy's Cove.  Peggy's Cove is a bit of a tourist trap but it's one of those  worthwhile tourist traps.  And as a tip: go there towards late afternoon/early evening because the busloads of people will be petering out.  Peggy's Cove sits on the edge of St. Margaret's Bay.  The simple white lighthouse, which dates back to 1914, stands out against all of the rocks and boulders that make up the coastline.  The village dates was first founded in 1811 and today it has a population of only about 60 people.  That means that the people living in Peggy's Cove are easily outnumbered by the people who come to visit.  There are a couple of restaurants and quite a few little shops that offer local crafts, as well as your typical tourist junk.  It was a lot cooler here out on the water and I seriously could have stayed there all evening.  We wandered around the sleepy little town, going in and out of the shops.  Just on the other side of the bay is a memorial to Swiss Air flight 111.  On September 2, 1998 the Sw

iss Air flight took off from JFK airport in New York bound for Geneva, Switzerland.  It crashed just outside the entrance to St. Margaret's Bay; all 229 people on the flight died.  Obviously, this isn't a happy thing to want to dwell on or even remember but I thought it was really touching that the people of Nova Scotia would erect a memorial for those who lost their lives.  Standing at the memorial, you can see Peggy's Cove off to the side and it's hard to think that such a horrible tragedy could happen in such a beautiful and peaceful place.  

It had been a long day but we had seen everything we wanted to in the Halifax area which was good because tomorrow, we were heading back across the peninsula and back to the good old Bay of Fundy.  

     

Northern Vacation- Day 6

Before I jump into day six, can I just say THANKS to everyone who has read my little ramblings.  Whether you came to the page on purpose or by mistake, I am very grateful.  Looking at the map of where the blog has been read is kinda crazy: Brazil, Ukraine, Germany, Serbia, Turkey...wow!

 So back to travelin'.  Day six, we awoke in Great Village and hadn't been mauled by the marauding bear (dun, dun, dun).  We headed across Nova Scotia on our way to Halifax.  We decided to stop off at the town of Stewiacke.  Stewiacke has a lot for itself.  It's the halfway point between the Equator and North Pole (not too shabby).  And nearby, a mastodon skeleton was uncovered.  You know what that means?  Mastodon Ridge mini golf and gift shop.  That comes complete with a trumpeting mastodon sitting on a hill that overlooks the highway.  Who wouldn't want to stop off have a photo op?  Trust me, I have made plenty of these similar stops.  I've visited a duck on Long Island, the Jolly Green Giant in Minnesota and a buffalo in South Dakota and now I have a mastodon to add.  Course, as Nicole pointed out, it looks just like an elephant.  Then again, I've never seen a mastodon in person before so I can't really say what they are supposed to look like.  I'm going to hope that the good people at Mastodon Ridge did their homework.  We bit a farewell to the mastodon and kept on truckin'.



We made a quick stop at the Atlantic Canada Aviation Museum.  Boy, that was a hoppin' place.  I think we actually woke up the staff when we came through the door.  And from the smell of things, they hadn't aired that place out since the days of the Baron von Richthofen (if you don't know who this is, ask Snoopy).  Since I don't know a Spitfire from a (I can't even think of another name...) B17 (okay, I think I could tell the difference between those two but you get where I'm going with this) I wandered around and took in the overall experience.  My take on it: there were a bunch of planes, some engine bits and bobs and the bathroom needs some soundproofing.  I could seriously hear people peeing all the way out in the lobby.  That's not comfortable for anyone!  But thankfully it didn't disrupt the staff that much; she continued reading her book by the window.


It didn't take us long to get to Halifax, the provincial capital of Nova Scotia.  Nova Scotia has long been a contentious area between the Imperial heavyweights, England and France.  England's John Cabot 'discovered' the area in 1497.  France's claim to the region came from Giovanni de Verrazzano in 1524.  The original European-given name for the region was Acadia.  In 1621, the name was changed to Nova Scotia by King James I.  (Undoubtedly a home town shout out from the Stuart king.)  For decades, control went back and forth between the two.  In 1749, the newly appointed Governor of Nova Scotia, Edward Cornwallis, founded the town of Halifax on the east coast.  If the name Cornwallis sounds familiar, you might be thinking of General Charles Cornwallis from the Revolutionary War.  He was Edward's nephew.  Cornwallis showing up with colonists kicked off fighting with the nearby Acadians (French colonists) and the local tribe, the Mi'kmaq. Eventually things began to settle (that has got to be the vaguest summary of history ever!) after the French & Indian War and the Revolutionary War.  Halifax is one of the world's largest harbours and because of that, it has a long and strong connection to the sea.  One of those sea connections is to the ill-fated Titanic.  Our first stop was in the northern part of the city at the Fairview Cemetery.  Fairview Cemetery is the final resting place for 121 victims of the Titanic sinking.  Most of the graves are for unknown victims but over the years, historians and researchers have been able to uncover the identities of some of the interred.  Those that were lucky enough to be identified, their names were added to the grave marker.  Halifax has a strong connection to the Titanic disaster.  Ships from Halifax set off with the unenviable task of recovering the bodies of the victims.  While the survivors made their way to New York, those who were not as lucky were taken to Halifax.

Tall Ship Silva

The Titanic connection continues at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic.  While the museum isn't all about the Titanic, it has a large collection of artifacts from the Titanic.  The museum also has an exhibit about the Halifax Explosion.  On the morning of December 6, 1917 two ships collided and set off a massive explosion.  The French munitions ship, Mont-Blanc, was packed with over 2,000 tons of various munitions on it's way to Europe to aid in World War I.  The Imo was registered in Norway and was working as a supply ship for the Belgian Relief Commission.  The initial collision drew attention from the people living in along the waterfront and many headed down see the collision.  Unfortunately, not long after the collision, the Mont-Blanc exploded.  1,600 people died; 9,000 injured; 12,000 buildings were either flattened or damaged.  By the end of it, the destruction covered 325 acres.  Obviously, this was a major event in Halifax's history and the exhibit faithfully tells the story and the aftermath, including some first-hand accounts.

Theodore Tugboat

We took a stroll around along the waterfront and i would guess it was rather similar to walking on the face of the sun.  Holy crap, it was hot!  Again, maybe my perception was off but I wasn't expecting to come home from Canada with heat stroke; I'm so glad I packed those long sleeve shirts and sweatpants.  It was teetering near 100 degrees, don't even ask me what that would be in Celsius (if I haven't mastered kilometers, I certainly won't have mastered Celsius).  Despite the oppressive heat, there were a bunch of cute little sheds along the harbour that were either selling food or souvenirs.  Tall ships were docked along the wharfs or were out in the water with their sailed unfurled.    We stopped and grabbed something to eat and I inadvertently stumbled upon a rarity: delicious fish n chips outside of the UK.  See, North America...it can be done!  We didn't linger too long in the city because we had plans that night and needed to go find our B&B first.



Ah yes, the Darmouth B&B.  We probably should have noticed right away that the name of our B&B was almost identical to the name of the cemetery where we had started our day.  In retrospect, I think the cemetery might have been a more comfortable place to stay.  Obviously, no Canadian is expecting temperatures to be 100 degrees; I can accept that.  But at least have a back up plan or some good fans in the place.  Or hey, how about windows that actually open!  Our host for the next two nights (seriously?!) apparently had aspirations of being the next great middle-aged snappy-comeback comedian.  I would say, don't quit your day job but his day job was working on his snappy comebacks with unsuspecting visitors.  I enjoy humor as much as the next person, unless it's A) not funny; B) CONSTANT or C) it's bloody hot.  Well, it was all three!  This was going to be a LONG two days.

The Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo begins

But back to more pleasant things.  After taking the coldest showers in history and then sweating as soon as the taps were off, we headed back into the city for what was probably one of the main highlights of the trip.  The Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo.  And before you ask, no ink or needles were present.  This kind of tattoo goes to Europe.  The word goes back to the late 1500s, from the Dutch 'taptoo' which effectively mean "shut room", and was a bugle or drum used to call soldiers to their quarters.  For our purpose, a tattoo is a military pageant which are popular in Great Britain.  Of course, the most famous is the one held in Edinburgh in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle.  And if it's got anything to do with Scotland, you know that means lots and lots of bagpipes...oh yeah!  Lucky for me, I love me some bagpipes.  Lucky for Nicole, she brought ear plugs.  (I jest, Nicole might not have any Scottish blood in her but she has a healthy love for most things Scottish- as everyone should.)  The event was phenomenal.  Military bands from Canada, the US and Germany played and marched and in between there were dancers, obstacle races, singers, crazy German police on motorcycles, Germans flying through the air, Germans doing unsafe things on bicycles...a lot of Germans for such a Scottishy event.  But hey, the more the merrier.  Of course the Mounties were out in full force, though not a single one of them on a horse!  Each pipe and drum band did their own sections and then they would come together for the bigger numbers.  The day before, we had picked up a brochure about the show and it listed at least 30 various performers and groups and we just thought, 'well they can't ALL perform one night.'  They did.  And while you might think that would make for a long night, everything was so well timed that it just flowed one act after the other.  There were tributes to the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, obviously the various branches of the military, the strong connection between Scotland and Nova Scotia and a heart-breaking tribute to the victims of Newtown, CT.  If you are ever in Halifax in late June/early July, you definitely need to check out the tattoo.  Not a bad way to spend the evening on the 4th of July.          

   

Northern Vacation- Day 5

(miniature) horsing around

After being treated to a yummy breakfast by Mae, and with our handy dandy personalized map in hand, we headed out to explore the Bay of Fundy coast.  If you have ever even been near the general Bay of Fundy area, I’m sure you have heard they have the most extreme tides in the world.  They really like to share that little tid bit of information and why not.  Unfortunately, it’s hard to appreciate the tides when most of the coast is fogged over.  But we were determined to try our hardest.  We drove towards St. Martins, they love their saint names up here, on some rather dodgy roads.  I don't know if it's that they have more roads or heartier shocks on their cars but on the whole, Canada didn't seem too concerned with paving.  Hey, at least it was a rental car that was going through all the bumps!  One the map Mae provided, she not only added the lighthouse we could visit but also a farm along the way that has miniature horses.  On the whole, miniature horses don't usually make the road maps; and the world is a sadder place because of that.  But we are never ones to turn down the opportunity to go traipsing through a field to visit the locals.  We parked and were greeted by a friendly border collie who seemed to be acting as our tour guide (he was still better than the pre-teen in Portland!).  We waded through the grass, those horses need to get eating, and came across the three little cuties.  When the horses making the map, I had the image in mind of a massive heard of lil horses galloping over the hills but I guess three would do it.  The border collie started to show off and annoy the horses by trying to play with them.  You guys might be of similar size, but I don't think a mini horse is going to play fetch with you- though if that happened, it would be amazing!  I thought for sure we were going to witness that dog get a swift kick but thankfully the visit turned out to be injury free. 

St. Martins & one of the bridges

We then headed over to the Quaco Head lighthouse.  Quaco was one of the previous names for the village and apparently only stuck to the lighthouse.  It seems that the Canadian lighthouses are a lot smaller than their American cousins.  While most of the lighthouses I have seen are pretty tall, this one couldn't have been more than five stories tall.  As we made our way down the path towards the lighthouse, we could hear the fog horn blasting off into the gray that lingered along the cliffs.  Obviously it was loud, but holy crap...it's REALLY loud when you get in front of it!  As I held my ears, I couldn't help but think of the scene from Pete's Dragon (oh yeah, I'm going way back) when Red Button and the scheming doctor are in  front of the fog horn when it blows and they can't hear a thing afterwards.  I thought that was going to be me!  But thankfully my ear drums did not rupture and soon we were on our way again.  We drove into St. Martins and almost drove right back out of it...it's that small.  There's not much to it but it does have not one but two covered bridges right off the main road.  If covered bridges are your thing, this area of Canada is littered with them.  (HOLD UP- I feel that I need to take this moment out to break some mind-blowing news...in the beginning of Pete's Dragon, Pete is hiding from the Gogans.  Well did you know that one of the Gogan sons is Jeff Conaway?  AKA Kenickie from Grease?  I had no idea!)  Where was I?  Oh yeah, covered bridges.  St. Martins was founded in 1783 and since then it isn't surprising that the village has a long-standing connection with fishing and ship-building; it only has around 300 residents.

Besides the covered bridges, one of St. Martins' biggest attractions are their sea caves.  They would pretty much be like any other caves but thanks to Fundy's extreme tides, during low tide you can walk out to them and explore.  On our first drive by them the water was still pretty high and the fog made them a bit hazy.    Hmm, so far this fog is a bit of a pain  Just up the road was the entrance to the Fundy Trail Parkway.  The Parkway is  fairly new; actually it won't be fully complete for a few years.  It has walking and hiking trails and plenty of overlooks.  Once it's finished it will connect up with existing coastal roads and there will be lodges to stay in and lots of other things to explore.  Maybe we should have waited until it was complete.  We stopped at a few overlooks and, surprise, there was nothing to see but tree tops and fog.  Hmm, I'm thinking we shouldn't have wasted our money.  We did finally see something when we came across Fuller Falls/Chutes Fuller.  We could hear the waterfall from the parking lot and followed the sound.  The steps down the the viewing platform for the waterfalls were NOT steps.  They were closer to the rickety bridge from Temple of Doom laid down a hill.  Oh I was not doing that!  Nicole on the other hand, had no problem with it.  She decided to take the plunge and headed down the fun house steps.  She survived, which was good because my cell wasn't working and she probably had her's down there.  Back in the car, we figured we wouldn't waste any more time looking at fogged over lookouts and headed back towards St. Martins.

Before

After

Passing back through St. Martins we noticed that the tide was going out and we could get to the sea caves now.  Sweet, time to get the full Fundy experience!  We grabbed our water walking shoes and headed out.  While the tide was mostly out, there were still a few rapids we had to wade our way through.  Nicole went around the long way; I thought 'nah' and went straight into the babbling water.  I was pretty much halfway across when I thought, this was a huge mistake.  It didn't help that the beach/ocean floor was made up of rocks.  I just knew I was going for a swim.  Perhaps Nicole had a point when she went the long way.  Thankfully, I made it to the other side nice and dry.  The caves didn't go too far back so it wasn't like we were off to go splunking.  But all the same, it was neat to walk around in something that is usually under water; most of the ground was covered in seaweed.  After we fully explored the caves, we headed off again.  On the slow drive up the coast, we figured we would stop off at Cape Enrage, it had a nice ring to it.  Turns out it's likely called Cape Enrage because of the outrageous entrance fee.  It's just a lighthouse and some cliffs, those are pretty much dime a dozen up here, and they wanted $10!  No thank you.  We just turned around, pulled over and I got out and snapped some pictures.  Enraged is right!

It was more Fundy floor exploring at our next stop farther up the coast at Hopewell Rocks.  If St. Martins sea caves were cool, Hopewell Rocks was super cool.  It was also where all the tourist were hanging out.  The nice thing about the way we travel is for the most part, we stay off the beaten path but when we do make it to the popular places, the crowds can be a bit much.  The walk through the woods took us to the beach access.  As we made our way towards the staircase that would take us down to the beach, a toddler and his family came up from the beach.  He was covered head to toe in mud.  Oh my, I hope not all of it was that muddy!  Then again he could have just had a spa mud treatment, you never know.  100 steps later and we were on the ocean floor again.  Thankfully most of the ground was pretty solid.  If you went out to where the water was, that was where the mud was hanging out.  During the drive up, I had noticed these signs that kept mentioning 'Chocolate River' and obviously that was intriguing.  Turns out the whole area is kind of Chocolate River because that's literally what it looks like.  Like a big glass of chocolate milk...hmmm.  The rock formations were the result of the Fundy tides and they were just plain fun to walk around and look at.  From the Flower Pots to E.T. and the Lovers Arch, each formation was unique.  Thank goodness we had timed the visit right and were able to explore them properly.  It would have been neat to be able to see them partially covered during high tide but if you can only pick one, low tide is the best.  


It was late afternoon by the time we headed out and our B&B for the night was over in Nova Scotia.  Once we picked up the main highway in Moncton, it was smooth sailing.  We were staying the night in Great Village at the Blaikie House.  The large Victorian house, which dated back to the 1870s, had been lovingly restored by the owners and it felt like stepping back in time.  What was even better was that when we pulled up and got out, we saw someone run across the street to welcome us.  It was one of the owners and he apologized for not being at the house but he was getting his sheep sheared across the street.  That's not an excuse you hear too often.  Though we had the house to ourselves, the owner had warned us that if we went for a walk we might not be alone.  A bear had been spotted in the neighborhood that afternoon.  Okie dok, won't be leaving the house until we run for the car- got it.  

Welcome to Nova Scotia

Now that we were in Nova Scotia the driving shouldn't be as long as it had been the previous days.  Tomorrow we were off to Halifax for two days.  All we had to do was hope the bear wouldn't be outside tomorrow morning hoping to bum a ride.  




                   

Northern Vacation- Day 4

 

The stormy weather continued when we woke up in Portland.  We had booked a seal watching boat trip for that afternoon and was wondering if it would even run.  Of course, you would think that if they were canceling it the company would call you.  Yeah, apparently with boat trips, it doesn’t work like that.  Nicole called up and discovered that even if the weather was good they had no intention of going because there were less than 10 people signed up.  Gee, thanks for letting us know.  I totally get that they are beholden to the weather and also that taking a boat out with two people in it would be a waste of gas but you would think the least they could do would be to give us a call.  It just seems like basic customer service.  But enough of that.

Bar Harbor

Sandy Beach

With our plans changed, we decided to head out and make our run for the border.  The drive up was pretty uneventful.  We did make a side trip to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park.  We had lunch in Bar Harbor and did a little wandering through the shops.  We stopped off at the visitor's center of the park and everyone and their brother was in there.  Now we know where everyone goes when it's a rainy day.  I grabbed a map and we ran for it.  The national park was created in 1919; it was the first designated park east of the Mississippi.  It was originally named Lafayette National Park, after the Revolutionary War hero and French guy.  The name was later changed to reflect the area's connection to the Acadian people of Canada.  Now I know that we only had a quick visit, but I wasn’t exactly blown away by Acadia.  While it did have a few nice coastal views it seemed that most of the ‘overlooks’ were of tree tops.  I am pretty environmentally conscience and on the whole am anti-tree cutting but I think Acadia was in desperate need of some tree trimming.  There were all of these overlook and outlook places but you couldn’t see a bloody thing.  I didn’t pay the entrance fee to see trees!  It was while driving around Acadia that we noticed a pattern forming that would continue for the rest of the trip- no wildlife.  I already knew from my last trip that the moose of Maine were cagey animals.  We saw SO many perfect vistas for wildlife to be frolicking in but they were totally empty.  And if all the moose signs that were thrown up every five miles wasn't bad enough, they kept naming things after animals that we never saw: Beaver Damn Pond, Bear Brook, Eagle Lake, Otter Cliff Road, Seal Harbor.  Come on!  Rub it in how bout it!

After bidding adieu to Acadia and it's non-wildlife, we continued north to Calais and the border crossing.  This would be my first trip to Canada and it would be fair to say that I had been building it up a bit.  I had the vision in my mind that Canada would be like a Diet UK.  Obviously it wouldn’t be as great as the real UK (I really hope I don’t have to point out that by UK, I mean United Kingdom) but it would be better than most.  Maybe they would have decent fish n chips or know how to make a cup of tea.  Nicole, who had been to Canada a bunch of times, counseled me on not getting my hopes up but I was determined to continue with my delusions.  We got to the border crossing and pulled right up.  This particular border crossing is about two years old and apparently no one else knows about it; fine with me!  So we drove up and handed our passports over to the border agent.  Our agent was nice as can be, as you would stereotypically assume of a Canadian, and welcomed us in.  My only complaint was that there was no passport stamp given.  This is a pet peeve of mine; I hate that passport stamps seem to have all but disappeared.  I mean, how else am I supposed to show where I’ve been?  It’s insane to think that you can have used your passport to visit countries and have nothing to show for it?  (I’m looking at you, European Union.)  For shame!

Oooh, Canada

Anyhoo, we continued north towards St John, New Brunswick.  For the most part, Canada was still looking a lot like Maine.  The only difference was that the distances and speed was now in kilometers.  Seriously, Canada?  Even Great Britain has waved bye bye to kilometers and everybody appreciates that.  Trust me, it’s one less thing you have to worry about when trying to stay on the right side of the road!  (Come to think of it, Canada should totally just do that.  Convert to miles but drive on the British side of the road.  Problem solved.)  You could tell that the route we were on was somewhat new because there was a whole lot of nothing!  We were staying outside of St John at the Moore's Specialties Tourist Home; turns out it was WAY outside of St John.  We drove further and further out into the middle of nowhere as evening set in.  We finally arrived at our place for the night around 8:30.  Mae, our lovely host, welcomed us in and showed us around.  She mentioned that another group was supposed to arrive at 9:30 as well.  Of course I thought, ‘okay that’s in like an hour.’  Turns out it wasn’t.  We thought we had arrived at 8:30 but once we crossed over into Canada, we lost an hour so it was really 9:30.  Sheesh, that suddenly made the long day we had seem even longer.  

Mae made us a cup of tea and we chatted in the kitchen while she waited for the other group.  She told us that she was drawing us a map for tomorrow of places we might want to check out.  Nicole leaned over and said, “she made us tea and she’s drawing us a map- this is like the UK!”  (delusion proven correct!)  Over our many trips to the UK, we had noticed that British people love to draw us maps.  And most of them are adorably specific.  We were at a castle in Scotland one time and had asked how to get back to the bus stop.  The woman proceeded to draw us a map to show us the route through the countryside.  “Turn left at the tree with no bark, go through the fence, walk around the rubbish pile and you’ll be there.”  At first we thought she was trying to get us killed but it took us exactly where we needed to go.  Since then, we are always happy to see someone draw us up a map.  Since on the drive in we noticed that there was NOTHING around us we were prepared to hungry that night.  Mae told us that unfortunately B&Bs weren’t allowed to offer dinners because it would take away business from nearby restaurants.  Of course the irony being, there were no nearby restaurants.  I’ll just say that Mae was an angel and found a creative way to not let us go to bed hungry. 

It had been a long day of driving and we still had a lot of driving ahead of us but we were looking forward to seeing some of Canada tomorrow.     

Tomorrow: Bay of Fundy

Northern Vacation- Day 3

One thing I was beginning to notice about New England in the summer is that the sun comes up REALLY early.  We had to wake up early anyways but being awake at 5:30am AND before my alarm went off is just annoying.  But that gave me plenty of time to repack and haul my seemingly massive luggage downstairs.  After a quick breakfast we took the commuter train into Boston's North Station again and then waited for our train to Maine.  As we waited and watched the daily commuters file in and out of the station, we treated ourselves to some coffee from one of the TWO Dunkins Donuts in the station...they had to be less than 500 feet away from each other.  (In truth, that number is just a blind guess because I have absolutely NO concept of distance.)

Portland Bay

It wasn't long before our train was given a platform and we were off to claim our 1st class seats.  You heard right, we were traveling in style!  And let me tell you, 1st class was totally worth the extra few bucks.  The journey from Boston to Portland, Maine was about 2 1/2 hours and to be honest, I spent a good amount of it napping.  I have fallen asleep on many a train but give me reclining leather seats and it's a 'for sure' that I will be sleeping.  I did catch a few sites as we made our way through New Hampshire and into Maine.  Though I do have to say that given my strict travel rules, simply traveling through New Hampshire does not count as a visit.  For me, you have to have stopped and seen something New Hampshirey for it to count.

We arrived in Portland and were picked up by our car rental company.  It's never fun to be at the start of a trip and think, 'I'm going to die'.  Well thanks to our lovely driver, that's exactly what we were thinking.  Nicole and I kept giving each other frantic looks and hoping that we would arrive soon.  Thankfully, we arrived in one piece and picked up our car.  We had been to Portland a few years ago and I liked it right away.  It's just got that nice blend of old and new; still an active fishing port but also has cute little shops and great places to eat. 

Since we had been to Portland before, we had hit the big sites already.  In the planning of the trip, it seemed like all we were going to do was eat and drink.  But before we got down to the fun stuff, we decided to take a tour of Portland's Victoria Mansion.  The mansion, also known as the Morse-Libby House, was completed in 1860.  The original owner, Ruggles Sylvester Morse (I just HAD to get that name in!), was born in Maine but had made his fortune in New Orleans.  The Victoria Mansion was their summer house.  The house fell on hard times when it was damaged by a hurricane in 1938 and two years later, it was set to be turned into a gas station.  But thankfully it was saved and restoration continues even today.

The skies were darkening as we made our way to the mansion for our tour and in retrospect that was probably the tour guide gods warning us.  Alas, we had no idea what was waiting for us.  As we walked up to the gift shop, a couple and a pre-teen boy were wandering around the outside.  Imagine our surprise when the pre-teen boy turned out to be our guide through the house.  At first I thought, 'how adorable' and I was totally on board.  Within five minutes I realized that we had walked into a nightmare.  That kid was the WORST GUIDE EVER!  I would have loved it if he actually knew what he was talking about but as the tour continued, I began to think that we had just paid to be this kid's babysitter for an hour.  A long hour.  He glossed over the history of the families connected with the mansion and instead focused on pointing out porcelain statues in each room.  It went from bad to worse when he tried out some jokes, 'two people died in the house and, funny story, there was also a murder in the house...nah.'*  As we went through the house, Nicole got an alert on her phone, too made it wasn't a horrible guide alert.  It was only an alert for flooding.  Frankly that was beginning to sound like a better option!

Our room at the Inn

We survived the pain and went to check in at the first B&B of the trip.  The Inn at St. John was lovely; though, a continental breakfast only?  Come on, that ain't right.  But I digress.  Once we were all settled in our room, we called a cab and headed down to the waterfront.  It was time for some lobster!  The goal of this trip was to pretty much eat as much seafood as possible and Portland was a great place for that.  The Portland Lobster Company sits right on the water on one of Portland's many wharfs.  It's a pretty low key place, eat in out on the wharf or get it to go.  And nothing goes better with lobster than a nice cold pint of Fatty Bampkins cider, a British style cider made less than 25 miles from Portland.  For Nicole it was, nothing goes better with lobster than a local blueberry ale.  It smelled great and, not being a beer fan at all, it wasn't horrible tasting.  (Talk about high praise!)  But the obvious star of the meal was the brave lobster that gave its life for our enjoyment.  I normally have a healthy amount of guilt when eating meat (the worst was eating lamb after watching them bounce around all day, never again!) but crustaceans are different.  They're just too darn yummy.  Though I will add, I don't make eye contact with the lobster tank when I walk by.  There's no need to rub it in!

The aftermath

Tomorrow we would begin the drive up to Canada so it was nice to have a calm and chill day in Portland.  The city definitely carries on that chill vibe.  I would be always more than happy to return to Portland for a visit.

*Not an exact quote, but you get the idea.

Northern Vacation- Day 2

After a witchy day spent in Salem, today it was off to Boston.  The initial plan was for me to take the train in to the city and Tiffany would pick me up; Nicole was spending the day with family.  My goal in most travel situations is to NOT look like a tourist; I like to blend.  So the first stop of the day was to Dunkin Donuts for some coffee.  (If you're wondering why I'm fixated on DD and Massachusetts, it's Jim Gaffigan's fault as you can see from this clip.)  Having passed at least three Dunkin Donuts on the 15 minute drive to the station, I thought this would be a perfect way to blend in.  Waiting in line for coffee was an experience.  People always go on about how Starbucks people have their own lingo (venti half calf skim latte) but in that Gloucester Dunkin Donuts, I felt like I was in the belly of the beast.  There was a group ahead of us that was slowing things down and I thought the meat head in front of me was going to blow a fuse.  It's not exactly surprising that they are so edgy when it comes to their coffee, that's an awful lot of caffeine to consume!  I had to bite back a laugh when I saw a mug for sale that said "Massachusetts Runs on Dunkins" because it's not an exaggeration.  I rehearsed my order in my head as the line crawled since I didn't want them to suss me out immediately.  I got the coffee goods without incident and headed back to the train.


As I waited for the train to arrive, I looked around and congratulated myself with the stellar way I had blended in with the locals.  Everyone had a DD cup (that sounds wrong).  A guy walked across the rails (legally, he wasn't high on coffee or anything- well, I guess I can't really confirm that) and I saw in his hand, he had a McDonalds coffee.  HOLY CRAP!  Things are about to get ugly!  As I looked around for the quickest evacuation route, the other commuters took in the site.  And then nothing happened.  Sheesh, I thought for sure people with that much caffeine in their systems would be ready to throw down.  Maybe they all drink decaf.  The train rolled in and I grabbed a seat next to the window.  It was about an hour ride into Boston but the ride took you past some really cute coastal towns.  It reminded me of my European days of hopping on the train and seeing the countryside.  Oh and they had WiFi!  Not long into the trip, Nicole called and told me that plans had changed and she would drive in to meet Tiffany and I and the three of us would do some Boston stuff.  It would be fun to hang out with the two people I travel the most with.

Tiffany picked me up at North Station and we headed south to the JFK Presidential Library.  Somewhere along the way, Tiffany and I started a tradition of visiting presidential stuff, especially the libraries.  We had already been to Jimmy Carter's and LBJ's libraries so we couldn't be in Boston at the same time and not visit the JFK one.  I should point out now that not every president has an official library.  The official ones are run by the National Archives and started with Herbert Hoover's library in West Branch, Iowa.  (You know, I probably typed the same exact thing when I was talking about LBJ's library in February but the reminder can't hurt!)  The JFK Library is located at the edge of Columbia Point just south of Boston.  The building was designed by I.M. Pei, who also designed the glass pyramid outside of the Louvre in Paris, and at first I thought it was a bit too modern; I like my buildings old.  As with most presidential libraries, the visit started out with a video.  The exhibits focused on various aspects from the Kennedy years: the campaign, the presidency and television, the Space Race, JFK's relationship with his Attorney General/brother, life in the White House and, of course, his legacy.  After you come out of the exhibits, you enter a multi-story pavilion that looks out onto the water through the metal framing of the building.  It's so beautiful, I could have spent all day there.


But alas, there is no rest for the touring and soon we were off back into the city.  We got a bit lost on the way to the North End neighborhood and got a taste of the uniquely Boston style of driving.  Nicole had told me that it was insanity but that the "anything goes" style ended up being quite freeing.  She said all you have to do is stick out your hand, wave and then cut off whoever you want.  And you know what, that's exactly how it was!  Everyone up north is so friendly that they just don't mind if you cut them off, just do it with a smile.

The first stop in the North End was to visit Paul Revere's House.  I had no idea that Paul Revere lived in Boston's Little Italy.  But it's pretty much surrounded by Italian restaurants, far as the eye can see.  At least the Reveres ate well!  The house was pretty much what you would expect.  It was built in 1680 on the grounds of a former parsonage.  The parsonage once housed the infamous Puritan ministers Increase and, his son, Cotton Mathers (now those are some names), who are most famous for their connection to the Salem Witch Trials.  But back to Revere.  He bought the house in 1770 and moved him and his family of seven in.  The house was actually a pretty good size for that time.  Out in the garden they had a 900 lb. bell that was made by Paul Revere & Sons.

The bell pulls

Obviously Revolutionary War-related spots are all over the place in Boston.  Boston even has a handy dandy brick-lined (mostly) Freedom Trail to lead visitors to all of the prime spots.  The whole trail is about 2.5 miles and takes you to 17 sites.  Since I'm not necessarily all about the Revolutionary War, I just wanted to go to a few of the sites.  We followed the red line and headed over to the Old North Church, famous for the old "one if by land, and two if by sea" lantern hanging.  The church was built in 1723 and was one of the few Episcopal churches in Colonial Boston; it's also the oldest standing church building in Boston.  If you have the chance and time your visit right, definitely go on the Tower and Crypt tour.  You get to go up to the bell tower and and learn all about the bells, it's quite a production...they have students from MIT ring them, and then you get a tour of the crypt, which is always fun.


After the Old North Church, we met up with Nicole's cousin and figured When In Little Italy, so we had dinner at Limoncello.  Can I just say, that was one of the BEST meals I have had?!  Squid ink pasta with lobster...delicious.  It might be sad to say, but I don't think I've ever had fresh pasta and what a difference it makes.  After a tasty dinner and some bubbly Prosecco, we made one last stop at the Granary Burial Grounds.  Nicole and I got dropped off to make a quick run through the cemetery- though it was a respectful run!  The cemetery is the final resting place of Paul Revere, Sam Adams, John Hancock (or was it Herbie Hancock), Ben Franklin's family, Mother Goose (I had no idea she was a real person) and many others.

Hancock's tomb...I will not
comment on the shape

Paul Revere's original
tombstone

Here lies Mother Goose

 After a full and sweaty day in Boston, we headed back to Gloucester and finished the day on one of the small private beaches nearby.  Pretty nice way to end the last day in Massachusetts.      

Tomorrow:  Off to Portland