Northern Vacation- Day 10

Well morning came disgustingly early and soon we were lining up at the ferry dock to take the three hour ferry back over to New Brunswick.  After we got loaded into the bowels of the ferry, we headed upstairs to the endless rows of blurry eyed tourists.  I headed to the cafeteria, as all hearty seafarers do and enjoyed a yummy breakfast of eggs and bacon...that will keep the sea sickness at bay!  I wish I had some harrowing tales to tell (or at least a bloody picture to post)but to be honest, I slept most of the way!  It wasn't long, or at least it didn't feel like long for me, before we were pulling in to St. John harbour.  (Boy, I'm going to miss these extra Us when we head back over the US border!)  After navigating our way out of the city, we ran for the border...or more likely drove at a reasonable rate for the border.

Nicole, who had crossed the US-Canada border many times, had warned me that for as friendly as the Canadian custom officers are, the US ones tend to be the opposite so as we neared the border, I was ready for a struggle.  We handed our passports over and waited for the flurry of snarky questions to begin.  Well this guy must have just gone through his once-every-decade sensitivity training because, though he wasn't exactly friendly, he wasn't trouble either.  Hmm, that was slightly disappointing...I was all ready for some heads butting.

We stopped off for lunch in Bangor.  Or as Nicole and I pronounce, bang-AAAAAA.  This harks back to a rather nondescript train ride Nicole and I had across North Wales years and years ago.  The train was set to terminate at Bangor, Wales and as with most train journeys, they announced each upcoming station.  "Next stop, bang-AAAAAAA."  For some reason, Nicole and I found this hilarious.  Mainly because the announcer sounded like he was from New England more than North Wales.  So obviously, whenever we hear the word Bangor, that travel memory pops to mind.  So it was a bit of a surprise when we were actually in New England and heard how they pronounced Bangor, ban-GORE, we were thrown for a loop.  That's just bizarre!  C'est la vie.  While we didn't see all that Bangor had to offer, I gotta say I wasn't exactly impressed; it was a bit dingy.

Since we were a bit road weary, we didn't do much else but drive to the lovely Inn at St. John in Portland.  We relaxed and decompressed from the road and then later, we headed out for the compulsory lobster and beer/cider.  Becky's Diner is one of our favorite haunts in Portland.  It's a local favorite and is always busy...and it is worth it.  Especially yummy is the twin lobster meal...two lobsters for under $25, can't beat those prices!

Well, tomorrow was the end of the journey...until the next one!  

Northern Vacation- Day 9

We awoke from another warm night in Nova Scotia and got our things packed to leave The Cliffside B&B.  The views were amazing but the warmth and the lack of screens to allow the doors and windows to be open were less than ideal.  After struggling through the bizarre bread pudding-like breakfast, it had fruit in it...shudder.  We were ready to settle up and be on our way.  Now, I get that some B&Bs are going to be more expensive than others and I also get that people are trying to make a living by running these B&Bs but what I can't stand is when they are not up front with the costs.  The website described our room a certain way and silly me, I expected to be charged for that.  But no, for one night it was pushing $200.  Call me cheap but I ain't spending that much for a bloody sunset!  Needless to say, we were not thrilled with this.  Of course when I brought up the vagueries they just shrugged it off.  So let me just say, DO NOT stay at The Cliffside B&B, there are plenty of other B&Bs available that will actually coherently tell you how much a room is before and are actually hospitable.

But enough of that...back to vacation.  Nicole had booked herself on a whale watch so we drove down the long peninsula that jutted out into the Bay of Fundy.  I dropped her off at the ferry dock and I was on my way to explore the history of the Acadians.  Acadia, or l'Acadie in French, was the name that the French colonists gave to Nova Scotia.  From their first arrival on the peninsula in 1604, the people who lived and settled under the French flag were called Acadians.  As we have learned, over and over again, possession of the region flip flopped between the French and English over the generations but the Acadians continued to work and live on the land.  By 1730, most of the Acadians had signed an oath of allegiance to the British Crown though they were up front in saying they even though they signed the oath, they didn't want to have to fight against the French or the local tribes.  In 1754, The French and Indian War began and the Acadians aversion to fighting the French and local tribes really didn't matter to the powers that be.  The next year, the British government decided to expel the Acadians and thousands moved south to the original thirteen colonies or were sent to Europe.  Ten year later, the British government allowed Acadians to resettle in certain areas of Nova Scotia.  In 1765, groups of Acadians that had settled in France decided to make the long journey back across the ocean but instead of returning to Nova Scotia, they pretty much picked the total opposite of what Nova Scotia was like...Louisiana.  And BAM, Acadians go spicy living in the bayous and the Cajuns are born.  

Gilbert's Cove Lighthouse

I made a quick stop at a small little lighthouse at Gilbert's Cove.  The quaint little red and white lighthouse looked out onto St. Mary's Bay and along the horizon you could see Digby Neck, the long peninsula that juts out into the Bay of Fundy and runs parallel to the main land.  Though there was a light fog that had yet to burn off, you could still make out the wind turbines that were spinning over on the Neck.  The lighthouse was built in 1904 and interestingly, it had a total of two lighthouse keepers during it's active service.  Now that's dedication!

Église Sainte-Marie

Interior of the church

The Evangeline Trail, named after a Henry Wadsworth Longfellow book, takes you along the southwestern coast of Nova Scotia.  This is Acadia land and you will begin to notice a stronger presence of French place names as well as the Acadian flag flying.  The Acadian flag looks just like the French flag except for the addition of a single yellow star in the upper left corner of the blue.  If you stop off at a local shop or gas station, you'll feel like you've stepped across the ocean to the Gallic homeland.  In the small village of Church Point sits a jewel of design and architecture.  Église Sainte-Marie is the largest wooden church in North America.  Built over two years, beginning in 1903, the church and steeple reaches the height of 185 feet.  The Statue of Liberty, not standing on her pedestal, would be a good 30 feet shorter than the steeple...just for a little perspective.  The outside of the church is beautiful with the gray weathered wood that speaks of the decades it has seen.  And the beauty continues when you go inside.  When they say that it's built of wood, they aren't joking; it's not just like they slapped wooden planks on the outside of a normal building and called it a day.  We had a wonderful guide give us a quick tour of the church.  It would have been a great stop even if I had just wandered around on my own but our guide was full of great little stories about the design and construction.  The interior aisle is lined with massive columns which are whole trees that were debarked, smoothed and covered in plaster.  The stain glass windows and chandeliers were all imported from France and to insure that the windows made the journey in one piece, they were shipped in vats of molasses.  As our guide said, I wonder if someone had to lick them clean when they arrived.          

   

Reuben Trefry Blacksmith Shop

Lobster gear

Near the southern tip of Nova Scotia is the tiny fishing village of Lower West Pubnico.  It's one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it places but there is one thing worth stopping for; Le Village historique acadien de la Nouvelle-Écosse (The Historic Acadian Village of Nova Scotia).  Le village is a step back in time.  It's a fairly new attraction, construction and reconstruction began in 1998.  Acadian houses from the 19th century were transported to Lower West Pubnico and were set up as a 'working' Acadian village.  As you walk along the gravel paths, you can pop in to the various buildings.  Most of the buildings have a guide inside to explain the history of each building and if you're with a mixed group you'll be treated to an explanation in English and French.  From the path, you get a wonderful view of the harbour and salt marshes below.  At the Charles Duon house, built in 1832, you're greeted with homemade molasses cookies as you walk from room to room.  It's always amazing to see how many people shared such a small house.  By today's standards, it would have been a starter home for an individual or new couple but in the 1830s there were two large families sharing this house.  In the blacksmith shop, the guide explained the daily life of a blacksmith while he hammered out the nails typically used by 19th century Acadians.  Further down the path, the boat shop displayed a boat that was in the process of being built.  The path leads to the dock where fishermen would go out onto Pubnico harbour.  A small building next to the dock had a guide fixing the fishing nets and talked about the main catch of the area, lobster.  I'm not exactly a fishing/lobstering expert but it was actually quite interesting.  There was the local lighthouse to walk over and explore, another house which was built in 1856, an ampitheatre, fish stores where they salted the daily catch and a cemetery.  The village comes complete with chickens, cows and pigs.  The cows were friendly lil guys but watch out for the pigs...as the sign says "Les cochons mordent!"  

      

Charles Duon House

After getting in touch with the Acadian world, I headed back across the coast and picked Nicole up.  Before we headed back to Digby, we decided to check out Brier Island, which sits at the end of Digby Neck.  Two car ferries later, we were taking a quick tour of Brier Island.  Brier Island is only four miles long by one and

Northern Lighthouse

Western Lighthouse

a half miles.  Seems that the street paving equipment wasn't able to make the second ferry cause it was a bit of a bumpy ride.  But that wouldn't stop us!  We headed to the northern point of the island, Seal Cove.  As you can probably guess from the name, seals like to hang out in the cove and sun themselves on the rocks.  You can also probably guess that given our track record with animal sightings on this trip, we didn't see any seals.  But we did see the Northern lighthouse...at least the lighthouses never let us down!  After walking along the coast to make sure we didn't miss any seals that might have been hiding, we hopped back in the car and drove pretty much the length of the island to the Western lighthouse.  The views out into the bay were beautiful as you would expect.  The Western lighthouse was one of the few lighthouses on this trip that looked like what you imagine lighthouses to look like; tall and striped with color.  It didn't take too long to explore the small island and soon we were jumping back on the ferries.  Long Island sits between Brier Island and the mainland peninsula that leads back to Digby.  There isn't much to the island expect for a rock formation called Balancing Rock.  Evening was setting in so we knew that we were burning daylight.  We parked and started off on the 'easy' walk to the rock.  We weren't on the trail too long with we passed a larger lady who was walking the trail in a pair of wedges.  I thought to myself, 'sweet if she can make it in those shoes, it won't be a problem.'  Turns out that it wasn't that easy.  I'm not exactly the hiking type but I don't mind a walk to see something worth while...hell, I climbed hundreds of feet up a hill to see a castle.   But it turned out the trail was most likely configured by an insane person; it was ridiculous.  Call me crazy if I don't enjoy slip sliding through mud, balancing on 2x4s to avoid said mud, trying not to twist my ankle on the massive tree roots and trying not to contract malaria.  And be doing this while trying to back it to the rock and back to the car before darkness falls.  Yup, I will admit it...I gave up.  I mean, it's not like it was a castle or something!

We were spending the night in Digby, right on the main street.  We had an early ferry ride the next morning so we wanted to be close by.  Digby was settled by Loyalists from the American colonies in 1783.  They were led by Rear Admiral, Sir Robert Digby, hence the name.  The town became an important shipping port and obviously was big into the seafood industry.  It's also the Scallop Capital of the World.  Obviously that meant we just had to try scallops.  I'll just say, normally I'm not a big fan of scallops and the ones I had there were pretty darn yummy.  After checking into our B&B, we went off in search of something to eat.  It was the last night of the Lobster Festival and it turned out there was a bit of a parade...on the water.  Boats were decked out with Christmas lights and rode around the harbour tooting their horns.  We were able to get a table on the back deck of one of the nearby restaurants, The Fundy Restaurant, so we were able to enjoy the closing ceremonies.  Fireworks closed out the celebrations and all in all it was a perfect way to spend our last night in Canada.  We had had a wonderful trip, though we were kind of looking forward to heading south and hopefully cooler temperatures.
   

Northern Vacation Day 8

(In case some of you noticed, I kind of forgot to finish writing about my journey the the Great Warm North.  Well, here is the rest of it...better late than never!)



So, where were we?  Ah yes, the sweltering heat of Nova Scotia.  After seeing pretty much all that the capital city of Halifax had to offer we bid an adieu and headed west across the peninsula and back to the Bay of Fundy (home to the world's most extreme tides...in case you forgot).  There wasn't a lot to see as we drove, some of the towns we thought would be cute shopping stops were pretty dead.  In Windsor, we did make an impromptu stop.  Turns out that Windsor, Nova Scotia is the birthplace of hockey.  Now I have no interest in hockey and neither does Nicole, but her sister does and Nicole figured this would be the perfect place to souvenir shop.  We pulled up to the Haliburton House Museum and to be honest, with a name like that, I was worried that we may have stumbled across the lair of some ubervillain.  Instead, it was the house of Thomas Chandler Haliburton, a businessman, judge, author and first person to describe the sport of hockey.  As we walked into the house, the people seemed pretty excited to have visitors.  But we soon dropped the bomb that we really just wanted to see the gift shop.  Talk about awkward...but we had places to go, other things to see.  After stocking up on hockey paraphenalia, we hit the road again.

Hall's Harbour

We did make a quick stop in the small town of Hall's Harbour.  Our insane B&B keeper in Halifax told us it was worth a stop and somehow we didn't see that as a massive red flag.  But what do ya know, Ian was right about something.  I'm not sure if Hall's Harbour would even constitute a town, it was more like a curve in the coastal road that had a restaurant and a gift shop.  Just off the main parking lot was a pebble covered beach. There was still mist shrouding the coast that morning but the beach was so calm and peaceful, I could have stayed there all day.  But after taking in the calm, and the refreshing breezes off the water, for a little bit we jumped back into the car and we carried on. 

Fort Anne in Annapolis Royal

Steps to the prison

Our first real stop of the day was Annapolis Royal.  Annapolis Royal was first established in 1605 by Samuel Champlain (of the Lake Champlain fame) and Sieur du Mons; no prizes for guessing that this was initially a French colony.  The French held the region until the Treaty of Paris in 1763 and then the English took over.  Sounds familiar, right?  And as with the majority of the Nova Scotian history, control of the Annapolis Royal area went back and forth between France and England.  Walking around town, it gave off a very strong English vibe...what with the Union Jacks flying and whatnot.  After a quick bite at Bistro East and then headed across the street to Fort Anne National Historic Site.  The original fort, Charles Fort, was constructed by Scottish settlers in 1629; it might have been that batch of hearty Scots that gave the province its name, Nova Scotia.  Unlike many of the other forts we had visited, this fort saw a lot of action.  The original fort was replaced by four later fortifications and the majority of the star-shaped fort we see today is from the 1702 construction by the French.  Fort Anne has the honor of being the most attacked fort in Canada, thirteen battles, and was the first site to be made into a national historic site.  Today you can wander along the earthworks and take in the wonderful views of the Annapolis River.  There are a few buildings to take a quick look into, like the gunpowder magazine, as well as a small museum located in the officers' quarters building.

Entrance gate to Port-Royal

The inner courtyard

Further down on the other side of the river you get to experience the French side of fort living.  The Habitation at Port-Royal is a reconstruction of the original Habitation that was built by Champlain and du Mons in 1605.  In 1603, the French had landed in New Brunswick, near the modern-day border of Maine and Canada, and they did not have a good winter.  Once they thawed out, they quickly moved across the Bay of Fundy to Port-Royal.  They seemed to be getting along pretty well, they got along with the locals for the most part and weren't freezing to death...until 1613.  Turns out that some of the men from Jamestown, Virginia sailed up, raided and burned fair Port-Royal.  Well, that's a wee bit awkward...I mean Jamestown is just a hop-skip-and-a-jump down I95 so they're practically the local team.  Unlike Fort Anne back in Annapolis Royal, Port-Royal is a reconstruction.  I usually go into these types of places with a healthy amount of 'this will be crap' attitude; you just never know.  There were a handful of re-enactors walking around in wooden clogs, pantaloons and jaunty hats but after a quick intro, we were pretty much left alone to wander through the compound.  What I like about reconstructions, when they're done right, is that you can get a better sense of what life was like back in the day.  Walking around the habitation, you get to see what daily life might have looked like in the early 1600s.  Sure, it's a heck of a lot less dirty now

Getting ready for supper

than it was back then but to walk through the room where they probably gathered and ate and see the roughly hammered plates lined up on the table makes the visit more real; more real than seeing those same objects sitting in a display case somewhere.

View from a room

After our journey back in time, we headed further south along the coast to our stop for the night, Digby.  Digby is a quiet little seaside town, though it is pretty popular with the tourists since you can take a ferry over to New Brunswick from there.  Turned out we were in town on the same weekend as their annual Lobster Festival.  Sweet!  I haven't had lobster in...a couple of hours!  We were staying outside of Digby in an area called Culloden (Bonnie Prince Charlie shout out!)at a B&B called The Cliffside.  The big house sat on a cleared section of the cliff.  It was a bit impersonal but with views out onto the Bay of Fundy from the balconies, you didn't really care too much about the inside.  (Turns out we probably should have cared cause the price was a total rip off.  But more on that in the next entry.)  We got there just in time to see the amazing sunset.  Our trip was slowly winding down and before we knew it, we would be back to the grind of normal life which is really the only drawback to taking vacation...the cold slap of reality.                      

The Fundy sunset wasn't as extreme as their tides...

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