When we returned from our Solar Eclipse Epic Road Trip last Spring (2024), we pondered what far-reaching North American destination we might go to next. While in Florida, we had met Carol who owns an inn in Newfoundland. She had invited us up to visit, and at the time we just considered it a sweet gesture. After a bit, it sounded sweeter and sweeter, like a whisper of adventure that grew louder with its beckoning. Yes! Let’s go to the Eastern Atlantic Provinces, like Newfoundland/Labrador and Nova Scotia!
“Can you drive to Nova Scotia?”, “Isn’t Nova Scotia out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?”, “Is it part of Europe?” Oh my! These were questions asked as we shared our next road trip plans. I beg for 8th Grade Geography to be put back in the US school curriculum. We have met Canadian travelers who can name all 50 states of the US, and they tell us that they have yet to meet a single American that can name even 5 of the ten provinces in Canada, not to mention the three territories. I was glad to give one of these travelers a reprieve from their disappointment by naming nine of the ten provinces and two of the three territories. I’ll admit, I had never heard of Nunavut Territory before that day, and I didn't know that Prince Edward Island was its own province. So I seized the opportunity to improve my Canadian geography (after blushing at not hitting 100%); I asked the traveler if I get any credit for also being able to name all 50 US states. Alas, no.
So, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, and Quebec, here we come! With many stops planned along the way to catch up with long-lost relatives and friends, and of course we just can’t get enough of the scenery and historic sites of this (already) great land we live in.
July 8: After what seemed like weeks of prepping and packing, we are finally off. We’ve asked our friend Tony to stay at the house and take care of our pup Porthos and watch over the place. Porthos was quite relieved to see Tony arrive, as he wasn’t sure if he was going with us in the RV or not while he watched us pack. Although he likes being included when we travel, he really doesn’t enjoy road trips. And, Tony takes him on epic walks, and to outdoor concerts and farmers’ markets, and all over the place. Once Tony was there, Porthos looked at us and very clearly nodded that we were free to leave now, that he was good hanging at home with Tony.
Our first few days are just driving-to-get-there days, with long hours on the road and not too much planned along the way. We had a delightfully uneventful drive, (albeit 97 degrees!) eastward on I-80 and pulled over for the night in a Walmart parking lot in Winnemucca. Having a light salad for dinner and watching the moon rise was a perfect way to close our first day.
July 9:
We’re off with a leisurely start, as we just need to get to Salt Lake City. Along I-80, there are migration bridges constructed, which warmed my heart. I would love to hear details of the success stories of these structures, if the herds really took to them. I know that our pup won't walk on anything that he thinks is hollow underneath. Can the deer and antelope tell there's a highway running under their bridge?
Google Maps says it’s only a 5-1/2 hour drive. We have plans to meet up at 4pm for dinner with a school friend of Phil’s. He, his wife, and another friend and his wife and the two of us will meet for dinner. So we planned for a 6 hour drive, and to get there an hour beforehand to freshen up and such. Funny thing about Google Maps: I don’t think the “algorithm” takes into account that we are driving a camper van, not a Tesla. The speed limit for I-80 is 80 mph in vast stretches through Nevada and Utah, and I’m pretty sure the map was calculating travel time using speed limits. There is no way we’re driving the van at 80 mph! There was also one other catch: we were crossing into another time zone, so we were losing an hour. Needless to say, we were a little bit late arriving in Salt Lake City.
Since I was driving into town, Phil went in the back of the van and spiffied up for dinner. Then, I pulled to the side of the road 100 yards before we reached the house, and parked so I could go in the back and spiffy up myself. It was so warm and I was so sticky, I was having trouble getting my shirt off and a dress on. As I was fumbling trying to pull my dress over my elbows with the dress still up over my head, I noticed that the van was rolling forward. "PHIL!! The van's moving!! Stop the van!!". Finally able to get the dress pulled down from over my eyes, I see that he's inching the van toward our friends' house. "Hey, stop the van!! I'm still naked back here!"
"But we're late!"
"They're gonna be out on the front porch waiting for us, and you're gonna pull up while my dress is still stuck around my neck! Stop the van!!!"
"They won't be waiting outside for us. It'll be okay."
I was able to pull a window shade down just in time, and of course as we pulled up to our friends' house, they were not only out front but they were standing at the curb to welcome us into the driveway. Phil parks the van and hops out, and does his best to direct their attention away from the van. They of course are looking at the van, asking where I am. "She's still getting her shoes on," he said. So, they all wait there for me to finally emerge, with my dress still not quite lined up, wearing flip flops and my hair was a tangled mess. Jeez, so much for first impressions.
I was able to sort myself a bit though, and we went on to have a wonderful evening. Our hosts were absolutely delightful, and their home was divine. Martin and Joanie lived in the hills of Salt Lake City, with a gob-smackingly gorgeous view of the peaks of the Wasatch Range from their back patio. Friends John and Suki joined us also; amazingly John and Martin both went to school with Phil in Jr Hi and High School, and all three have reconnected 50 years later. We had such a lovely evening, the men all catching up on decades of missing history, and Joanie, Suki and I got to know each other in swift and delightful fashion. New friends, connecting with old friends. One of the driving forces for doing road trips, pardon the pun.
July 10:
Staying at the Elks Lodge parking lot in Bountiful (they even had electric hookups!), we blasted our AC until we couldn't stand the noise any longer, and tried to sleep. The heat is bad; it was 101 degrees, and even after sunset the temperature balked at dropping below 89. We finally slept, and in the morning treated ourselves to a very nice breakfast at Penny Ann's Cafe. Yohe (pronounced "Joey," sort-of) was our waiter, and added a bit of brightness to our sleepy heads.
We then headed for Costco to have our tires rotated. It's kind-of important to plan for maintenance on the road, especially if the road trip is going to be more than 4000 miles. I think that's when this becomes a way of life, not just a vacation away from home. We are working on including diet and exercise in that "roady" perspective too. We'll see how that works out as the days unfold.
July 11:
Most of the time, we travel off-season, so we are out of the habit of making reservations at campgrounds because there are always spots available. This trip is starting in July, so we have to remind ourselves there are lots of other people out on the road! We rolled along last night with the destination of Rawlins, Wyoming, just to get as far as we could and get some serious miles behind us. We stopped at the AAA map store in Rock Springs, and the agent there said the amenities in Rock Springs were so much better here in Rock Springs than in Rawlins, but if we didn’t mind low-key places, go ahead and keep heading for Rawlins. Hmmm. Since we really didn’t need amenities, just a place to park for the night, we took our chances and kept driving. With three KOA-style campgrounds in town, we thought the odds were good that there would be a spot in one of them. And, we were right. Not that the campgrounds were empty, but there were spots available. Too many, if you ask me. And, before settling in, we drove around town a bit. The old downtown of Rawlins had more abandoned motels and stores than open ones. This looked like a town that everyone decided didn’t really need to exist, and everyone all left. But, our campground, the Desert Rose, had all the amenities we needed (clean showers, laundry facilities, electricity hook-ups, even a miniature golf course!) and everything was tended so well.
Maybe the word on the street is to stay in Rock Springs, but Rawlins worked just fine for us. If I were looking for a hotel room, I get the picture, Rawlins would have been an adventure to write home about.
Today we are only driving a short distance to Medicine Bow National Forest, to stay overnight in a pristine, alpine environment. The drive into the forest is marked as a scenic highway, and they aren’t kidding. It’s beautiful.
We found a campsite available at one of the forest service campgrounds, nestled in a grove of small aspens, at 8400 ft elevation. Alas, the temperature is still 75 degrees, but this is splendid, knowing that the towns down on the plains are in the 90’s today. We took a quick walk on the Moose Trail which circled around the campground.
July 12:
It’s just so doggone beautiful here in the mountains that we decide to take a layover day (we’ll make up the mileage tomorrow). A leisurely breakfast of home-made granola, fresh strawberries and blueberries, and chilled greek yogurt. The yogurt was so chilled, it was icy around the edges, which gave it a thick creamy texture. Absolutely delicious. We then decide to go for a hike. It starts with a drive up to the trailhead, which was at 10,800ft elevation. Yikes! Studying the topo map, we would definitely be up in the 11,000ft altitude on this trail. Hmm.
As we headed out, I noticed that I was just as edgy as can be. I couldn’t put my finger on what was causing it, so of course I listed everything that could be wrong. I could have chosen to keep it all in my head, but alas here Phil and I were hiking together, so I started the soliloquy of everything on my mind. Phil of course wanted to help, so he gave me all the solutions I could possibly wish for. ACK! No solutions desired, just a chance to unpack the emotional baggage and leave it on the side of the trail. I hoped to get it all out of my system while we were hiking, because the scenery was so spectacular and I really didn’t want to miss it due to my bad mood.
After only about a mile or so of hiking, we picked a nice rock overlooking a lake and peaks of the Snowy Range, and meditated for a bit. Afterward, I know Phil wanted to hike further, but I was toast. The altitude was really making it tough.
Speaking of altitude, there are things that don’t work so well over 8000ft. For one, my head! I feel like I’m constantly in the fight or flight mode, and not understanding why (perhaps a lack of oxygen???). For another, the van’s propane burner for the refrigerator is iffy at that altitude. We had to keep checking to make sure it was running. For another, I wonder if the batteries charge differently, like maybe gasses build up or something and it affects the charging. Our solar charger gave out for no good reason, claiming that our battery “overdischarged”. And, sometimes the engine ignition takes a little extra boost at high altitudes. All that said, I was kinda nervous that the van was in trouble, and here we were, stuck way up in the mountains with no cell service, of course taking in all this gorgeous scenery but our chariot lost its horses.
None of this bothered Phil, but I was a wreck and was very anxious to get back down to a comfortable 6500ft elevation again.
July 13:
Time to move eastward! We head uphill over the Snowy Range Pass, and then coast downhill all the way to Laramie, enjoying the alpine peaks, meadows, hamlets, and ski towns as we go. We’re driving along the Lincoln Highway, the first trans-continental road in the US.
We arrived in Laramie and decided to drive downtown. Our timing was perfect, as we passed right by the St. Matthew’s Episcopal Cathedral, and there was a parking spot right out front. And, it was 10:30am on Sunday, so if we dashed in, we’d be there just in time for the Peace. That was uplifting, taking in half of a service just by chance. And, it felt good to sing a few familiar hymns.
Onward, we drove to Cheyenne and had lunch on the green just across from the State Capitol. Our experience of this lovely city was limited to just look-see from the street, since we had to travel about 450 miles today. No time for sight-seeing!
As we headed eastward, the mountains gave way to rolling hills with boulder outcrops, and then to wavy plains, with fields of alfalfa and corn covering the landscape.
The temperature was rising as the day progressed, and hit 91 degrees at its peak. We camped in the Cabella’s parking lot in Kearney, NE, begging for a cool breeze to give us reprieve.
July 14:
Our next planned stop is in Des Moines, Iowa, and we’re due there tomorrow. So, today we’ll go as far as we can. Driving while it’s hot is the best way to spend the day, as we indulge in the air conditioner in the cab of the van while we’re driving.
Of particular notice in the scenery, everything is so very, very green. Corn fields everywhere, and enough rain that they don’t need to water, even decorative grass fields. We enjoy the greenery from the coolness of our cab. It’s only in the upper 80’s, but it’s a bit humid, which makes it feel so much hotter.
Sitting for hours on end, I’m really in need of getting some exercise. I just can’t bring myself to go hiking in the heat, so we look for alternatives. Aha! It’s time to pull into a nice, fully-loaded KOA campground, with a pool, and even an air-conditioned laundromat. There is one in Adel, just west of Des Moines. Perfect! And, they have a few spots available. I can feel the cool water from the pool already as we pull in and set up camp.
While registering, I confirmed the pool hours, and noticed only a few young girls were in the pool right now. I might just be able to do some mini-laps and feel like I got just a little exercise!We set up, and I got in my suit and headed back to the pool. What’s this??? CLOSED!!!I went back to the registration desk and asked what happened in the 5 minutes it took me to change and come back. Well….apparently one of the young girls barfed in the pool, right after I left the office. So, they have to close the pool, sanitize and let the filter run overnight to clear it up. ArGH!!! We came here specifically because they were the only campground with a pool! The store clerk mentioned that there was a community aquatic club nearby, and we could swim there. Ahhh! So we headed for the pool and got some very-needed exercise in the cool waters of the community pool. It actually turned out better because they had 25m lap lanes to swim, and they stayed open an hour later than the KOA pool hours.
KOA refunded us for our reservation and were apologetic about the pool situation. Now, where to stay? We found an Elks Lodge in Adel, and met Gary, who invited us to stay in the parking lot overnight. Perfect.
July 15:
Today, we are free until 4pm, when we will meet up with a high school friend of Phil’s for dinner in Des Moines. We’re not far out of town, so finally we have a day to go sight-seeing in downtown Des Moines.
Des Moines is really a beautiful city, with lots of new buildings and parks and shops and a thriving downtown. What a nice place to visit!
We visit the Pappajohn Sculpture Park. We learned that a number of the sculptures were from the John and Mary Pappajohn collection, and were originally on display in the garden at their residence. Because the sculptures drew daily crowds of admirers much to the discontent of the Pappajohns’ neighbors, they worked with the city to build the sculpture park, and move the art there for public display.
We then took a tour of the Iowa State Capitol Building. Beautiful gold leaf accents on wood trim, and gorgeous mosaic tiles everywhere. The building has recently been restored to its original decorated details. We love visiting state capitols, as they are marvelous architectural subjects, and hold oodles of historical information in the artwork and displays located throughout the halls.
The library was particularly gorgeous. We could be in the space and read off the ranks, but we couldn’t check anything out.
We got to go up into the dome in the center of the building. They called it the “whispering loft” because everyone in the building could hear everything you have to say unless you whisper quietly.
At 4pm, we drove north to Ankeny to meet with Carey and Tammy for dinner. Phil and Carey were friends from their high school youth group.Phil is enjoying meeting up with old friends, with a feeling of completing the circle back to his roots.It’s such a great feeling to meet up with people that were important to you growing up, and it fills Phil’s heart with these visits.
We went out for dinner, enjoying gourmet Taco Tuesday at a very nice restaurant in Des Moines.Getting to know Carey and Tammy was such a delight. I felt like I might have known them for years, it was so easy and fun to share stories and experiences with them! They then invited us to stay overnight in their guest room, and I will not lie, it was a fantastic invitation. Oh my, I wish all blessings on them for their gift of conviviality. We also met their daughter and two delightful little grand-daughters and were entertained with gymnastics presentations and songs sung, and grand tours of the girls’ favorite toy collections.
July 16:
Rising early, we have miles to make before we’re done today. We bid good-byes to Cary and Tammy and family, and headed eastward. Upon Tammy’s suggestion, we stopped at Amana Colonies, a group of historic communities that have turned their renovated buildings into shops selling arts and crafts from local artisans, and the most delightful bakeries selling pastries, chocolates, coffees, and homemade sodas you can ever imagine. I believe the original communities are Dutch settlements, and are now affiliated with the Amish communities that live throughout the area.
The rest of today is just driving, driving, driving on I-80. More container trucks than cars, and plenty of them too. The only aesthetically pleasing thing now is the incredibly vividly green rolling hills in every direction, and the lightening storm that has been positioned just east of us for most of our ride today.
Turning in at 9pm, we pull into an Elks Lodge in Plymouth. How wonderful, they have electricity to share with us!
July 17:
Today we head for Perrysburg, Ohio, a suburb of Toledo. Phil’s extended family has planned a Family Reunion this weekend, so we’re excited to arrive in Perrysburg. We’ll be staying in a Hilton Home 2, which has suites with kitchens, thank God. We’ll be emptying our fridge and shutting down the camper while we’re in town. Also, our sons Adam and Luke are flying in to join us! Adele and Karl are on a boat-ride up to Alaska this week, so they will need to catch the next reunion.
Did I mention that Phil has 28 first-cousins on his Mom’s “Mather” side? One great thing about having so many cousins is that no matter where we travel to, there is always a cousin along the way to visit. Phil’s cousins are all lovely people, and it is indeed a treat to visit with them. And now, so many of them will be coming here, all those Mathers in one place! Oh my!
We arrive a day early and get settled. It took us so long to unpack and “move into” our suite. Moving everything in from the fridge took some time, but what might have taken longer is our trying to figure out what clothes to bring in, and what to leave in the van. We brought a few fancy outfits and then tried to figure out which of our camping clothes could pull off a more polished look if we tidied up a bit. I get stuck in this stigma about staying in hotels, and it drives me nuts. We don’t bring suitcases with us in the van, so everything we bring into the hotel is carried in plastic bags or fancier re-useable grocery bags. I like to find a back door that we can sneak in, so that people don’t see us carrying our belongings in through the fancy front lobby. But Phil always gets a hotel cart, so we load all the bags onto it, and of course roll on in the front door. People wonder if we were fire or flood victims, with all our remaining belongings in these grocery bags. No folks, we’re just two California hillbillies that don’t travel with luggage.
Once we transported everything into our suite, we discovered the kitchen floor was flooded. Oh my gosh, here we are, and we don’t dare start to unpack because more than likely they are going to move us to another room. We wait for Maintenance to come and verify the problem (leaky dishwasher), and then wait for him to submit his report, and the desk to assign us a new room. From start to finish, it took us two hours to move our stuff in, and then move it again to another room and unpack. Thank goodness we got into town a day early, as we still had time to chill and take everything in. Fortunately our ice cream didn’t thaw in the process.
July 18 - 20
Once our two sons arrived Thursday evening, we really started enjoying ourselves!
On Friday morning, one by one, we saw the Mather cousins and extended family members arrive and there was a perpetual greeting scene in the lobby with each excited embrace.
Friday’s plans were laid back, with only a boat cruise on the Maumee River planned in the evening. So, we had Friday to track down everyone who was arriving, and pal around without a schedule to keep.
We also wanted to show Adam and Luke the site of the Mather estate in Perrysburg, as it was an incredible house. The neighborhood had filled in a bit since Phil visited his grandmother as a teenager. And the houses were exquisite.
We ran into two neighbors who gave us the low-down on the house situation in the neighborhood. They said that the original house was taken down, but they built a triplex in its place using the original foundation, and they mimicked the architectural style and lines of the original house. The front lawn had a beautiful fountain on it. The developers kept the fountain and made it communal space under the new HOA in the area. So, the new building actually looked a lot like the original house and surrounding property. This warmed Phil’s heart.
We also drove around downtown Toledo to see the sights.
Saturday’s schedule was robust; we had so much to do and so little time! Cousin Laurie Thompson was able to arrange a tour of his parents’ house, thanks to the very nice current owner. Most of Phil’s cousins were very familiar with the Thompson house, as Aunt Tudy and Uncle Larry Thompson lived close by the Mather estate and the cousins would all visit with both families’ houses when they were in town.
The current owner was trying to restore the house with as much of the original affects as possible. Up in the cedar closet, there were drawers assigned to each of the Thompson children. Their names were still on the drawers! So much of the house was kept exactly the same but surfaces were updated. It was such a cool thing to see all the cousins pointing out their favorite things about the house (the hidden room behind the hallway linen closet, the fireplace mantles that were special to someone, etc.. Another recurring theme with all the family houses was they were all situated on the banks of the Maumee River, with incredible vistas out their back patios.
Afterward, we were treated to a delectable brunch at Tina’s house.
We actually got everyone to hold still together at the brunch for a group shot.
A private tour of the Toledo Art Museum followed. They had a special exhibit of paintings by Rachel Rusch that grabbed me.
The museum had the most exquisite collection of chandeliers lighting up each room!
We capped the evening with a fancy dinner at Carranor Hunt and Polo Club. Whew! What a special day!
On Sunday, we were all invited to box seats at the MudHens minor league ball game in Toledo. We hung out with Adam and Luke, and then had one last meal with them at “Sidelines Diner” in Toledo before they headed up to the airport.
What a delightful reunion of the Mather clan! We got to know more cousins and second-cousins, and got to enrich our relationships with those we already knew, and now we have more places to visit on our road trip!
It was bitter-sweet to load up the van and head out of Perrysburg, but alas our road trip continues. We head eastward along the shore of Lake Erie toward Cleveland, and stop at an Ohio Travel Service Center. This is sort-of like taking a Love’s Truck Stop and combining it with a public rest stop.They had places for RV’s to park overnight, even with electricity and all! We pulled in around 7pm, and there were just two other RV’s parked there. As the night went on, the spots filled up. This was a new experience for us parking overnight at a “rest stop”. We can’t really call this “camping” if we’re staying on asphalt surfaces most of the time. I guess that’s what makes it a Road Trip, and not a Camping Trip.
July 21:
There’s one thing in Cleveland that was drawing us to visit: The Rock ‘N Roll Hall of Fame! Yes, there are other things to do surely, but this was sparkling in our eyes. What fun!
Because our rock stars have to be popular for twenty years after their first big hit in order to be inducted into the Hall of Fame, we knew that all the “oldies” would be there to dazzle us, and there was a good chance we knew the music of most of the performers presented there. So, we dive on into the abyss, and let it take us into the pool of music.
The historic section was fascinating; seeing presentations of southern gospel vocalists morphing the popular music into R&B jazz, learning that Elvis hung out with R&B bands, and brought the soul of R&B from famous black circuits into the mainstream of this newly recognized rock ‘n roll.
Lots of artifacts, including jackets and dresses worn by our favorite performers, lots of guitars owned by the legends.
Lots of loud music, flashing lights, photos we’ve all seen a thousand times, and short videos we watched when MTv first hit the air.
When I got to the top floor of the oddly shaped pyramid building, I was surprised to see the entire space was all about Bon Jovi.
Was that the end of the show? I suddenly realized that there was very little coverage of the Beatles or Rolling Stones, or Pink Floyd. Was the Hall of Fame not into British Rock Stars? A few other favorites also missing; I started feeling like if this was a museum, per se of the greatest rock ‘n rollers, they gotta do better. Less flashing lights, more interactive displays, more live performances (cover bands would be fine!) rather than old worn-out videos. But we did leave feeling upbeat, the whole place is a grown-up’s fun-house. My favorite thing about it all was the Garage Band; a group of professional musicians in a garage-looking set, playing guitar, bass, drums, and helping with lyrics, and then we in the crowd that had the guts to sing would join them. It was sort-of like karaoke, but with live musicians to help lead you along. After I made the rounds and saw everything else in the place, I just hung out at the Garage Band and watched as one older woman made her way to the mic and belted out Aretha Franklin’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Then, a junior high drama student sang and danced to Mama Mia. We the audience were hooting it up, these folks were great!
Phil found the coolest beat synthesizer. I want one!
At the Garage Band, there were also a few guitar soloists that hopped in that were obviously professionals also, and the band dug it and rocked with them. I got to sing a few Journey songs with the band, what a blast.
Afterward, we continued northeastward and pulled into a beach area on the shore of Lake Erie to stretch out a bit. There was a cool breeze coming off the water that was so very refreshing. Phil and I tend to melt when there is heat and humidity, so anything to cool the heat a few degrees was a welcome change.
I love studying the house design styles as we travel. Here are houses just north of Cleveland, near the lake. A mix of brick rectangular apartment buildings, and then rows of colorfully painted houses.
As we passed Buffalo, we took note of the skyline, distinguishing what structures were high-rise office buildings versus silos and shipping warehouses. What a huge shipping port!
Since we were making good time, we drove past Buffalo, and pulled into an Elks Lodge in Niagra Falls.
July 22
Niagara Falls was on Phil’s Bucket List. I had seen it many moons ago, but not from the Maids of the Mist boats that cruise right into the showers of the Horseshoe Falls. We were excited, ‘cause we got tickets for the boat ride!
Because we stayed right in town last night, we were able to drive down to the Niagara Falls State Park and get a prime parking spot for the van. Woohoo! We could wander all through the park and into town now, with the van safely parked.
Since it’s early, there were very few people in the park or on the paths down to see the falls. If you ask me, this is exactly when you see the falls best, when there are rainbows and mist, and oh the whole area looks so spectacular.
We are of course on the US side, looking over the falls toward Canada. The US shore of the Niagara River is a state park, preserving access to the river walk and the falls for the general public. Inland from the park are hotels and restaurants, but these are pale compared to the Las Vegas glitzy look of the Canadian shore. There is a space needle, towering casino buildings, and of course, a huge Ferris wheel. The Canadian shore faces the falls. So, I have to admit, if you want to look out your hotel room at the falls, you would definitely need to stay in a hotel in Canada. But if you want to enjoy the natural scenery and get a sense of the enormous volume of water and the turbulence of this river, you’ll want to walk along its bank on the US side.
Keep in mind, you stay on the path and do not even think of leaning over railings to get closer to the water. The river water is moving at about 35mph before the falls; it is rated as a turbulence of 6, meaning it is not survivable even by experts in full gear. Then, once someone falls in, going over the Falls is unavoidable, and sure to bring an end to the unfortunate daredevil that slipped upstream. I cringed watching one dad hoist his 5-year-old daughter up onto a stone pillar to get a dramatic picture of her with the turbulent water in the background. YIKES!!
It’s time to go on a boat ride! The Maid of the Mist Boat Line gives out blue ponchos to all the passengers (red ponchos for the boats leaving from the Canadian side), and loads us onto these double-decker ferry boats. We then float up to the falls from the downstream docking area, and get so close, we’re literally looking up Horseshoe Falls into this heavy, heavy rainstorm. I think everyone needs to do this at least once in their lives. What a blast!
After the ride, we had access to this very high observation pier, for nearly an areal view of the falls.Step back, it’s a long way down!
To celebrate back in town, we opted for lunch at Hard Rock Café. Gotta remember that this is really just a hamburger joint, but the curry shrimp was delicious. It did remind me of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, with rock star guitars and shirts on display in the black jazzy windows.
Heading north, we pulled into the Whirlpool State Park, where the Niagara River plunges ever downhill through a gorge, and makes a 90 degree turn to the right, only after swirling and dropping and churning in this large circular pool, with the center marked by incredible turbulence. Yep, there is a downward pull in those rapids. Incredible force of nature.
We are heading for Rochester now, but I’d be a neglectful geographer if I didn’t proclaim that we are now following the path of the Erie Canal. The canal was built from 1817 to 1825, and ran from Albany, NY where it connects to the Hudson River, which connects upstate New York with New York City.The Erie Canal then heads westward from Albany for 350 miles, connecting to Lake Ontario along the way, and then threads its way to Buffalo and into Lake Erie. Commerce in Detroit and Chicago and all through the Great Lakes southern cities would never have grown if it weren’t for the Erie Canal. This had huge geographical significance in commerce, particularly the automobile industry, not to mention other trading, agriculture, travel, and every other industry that makes a city grow.
Because of the change in elevation across the state of New York, there were locks at numerous points along the canal. These raised or lowered the passing boats to continue onward on the waterway at a new elevation. We stopped at Lockport and watched a sightseeing barge go through the locks there.The elevation change at Lockport was about 30 feet, so it took about 15 minutes for the water to equalize between the locks and raise the boat up 30 feet. We stood on a catwalk just above the downstream lock to watch the action.These metal gates are huge, and they creak and groan when they turn. Amazing engineering feat, to say the least.
Onward to Rochester, where we’re meeting up with a dear friend, Rev. Lynn. She showed us the absolute best barbeque around, and then took us on a tour of the town.
In the late 1800s, Rochester was a thriving industrial city with notable millionaire-philanthropists. One such gentleman was George Eastman (Eastman Kodak), who founded the Eastman School of Music, and technical /medical schools at the University of Rochester, MIT, and a number of other elite schools in New England and London. He built an entire Episcopal Church in town to support his mother’s religious practices. Although Rochester is much older, the town had a familiar feel as our city of Berkeley back home. Many large estate houses intermixed with Victorian houses, many still kept up to display the heyday of another time. Many Victorians are converted into multiple apartments to support the population growth, and of course to house the staffs and students of the numerous universities here in town.
It is here in Rochester that the “eastern feel” becomes blatantly apparent with the start of colonial houses intermixed with huge Victorians, and so many buildings are made of brick! We just don’t find that in California. On our tour around town, I got carried away, taking pictures of beautiful houses along our route.
July 23:
After a night at the Rochester Elks Lodge, we head eastward, loosely following the towpath of the Erie Canal. It is hot and muggy, and we’re in a toss-up whether to keep driving and stay cool by the air conditioner in the cab of our camper, or to take a lay-over day on a lake and cool off swimming. We opted for the lake scene, and headed for the east shore of Oneida Lake. We stopped at a little “market” to buy a pint of milk, but found that they were really an ice cream shop, not a full market. No worries, as we were in the mood for ice cream anyway! At the shop, a huge family was on an outing, having been driven around down by Grandpop in his restored fire truck. We joined the group and ate our ice cream, oh so delicious!
We set up camp at The Landing campground, picked strategically because they had a spot available on the end of the spit that had electricity. Ahhhh!! A soft breeze, and also we could turn on the air conditioner in the camper!
The air was so muggy that we felt wetter than if we were swimming in a pool. But, within a few hours that we pulled in, the breeze shifted and we were cooled a bit with clouds and an incoming rainstorm. We were due for a lay-over, and this was a beautiful spot, so let’s dig in and get comfy.
Overnight, we heard the rain on the roof, and in the morning the sky was overcast but the rain had moved along. It was cooler, but just warm enough where a dip in the river was still going to feel really good.
This is a great spot to spend a down-day. We had one rear brake light that needed to be replaced, and we had some testing to do on our solar controller. We also sprung a leak somewhere around the top of the windshield, as we found a puddle in the central cupholders, dripping from the rear view mirror. Perfect that we were staying in one place for a day to take care of everything.
The campground even had a funky laundromat, so we got the laundry done too. Everything worked, but the facility felt like what you’d imagine your kids’ summer camp looked like. The laundry was outside, on the back side of the building that housed the bath house. Everything was old and wooden with squeaky hinges on doors that weren’t really made for the doorway they were hung in, albeit all was clean and tidy.
While we were here at The Landing, we went swimming, and I took in a photographic study of lily pads.
July 25:
Still following the Erie Canal, we drove to Rome, NY. Here, on July 4, 1817 was the ground-breaking for the building of the Erie Canal.
Rome was a humble town now, with a mix of Victorians and colonial farmhouses, some in better shape than others. There were a lot of small buildings that I thought at first were abandoned, but alas they still functioned as residences for some of the local population. Again, the brick church and the Victorians gave a hint to a hey-day of another time.
Venturing northward we head into the Adirondack State Park. Sure enough, there are Adirondack chairs gracing the patios of nearly all the shops and café’s.
We continue on this scenic drive deep into the park, where the villages are fewer and further between, and enjoy the beauty of this ancient mountain range with rolling hills, forest, and occasional vantage points along the way.
The Sacandaga State Campground has a spot available, so we stay there enjoying the coolness of its conifer canopy overhead and its shoreline of the babbling Sacandaga River. What a beautiful area!
July 26:
Heading southward out of the park and back to the upstate New York towns, we stop at the Schoharie Crossing State Historic Site. This was a fascinating place, where the Erie Canal was raised in an aqueduct to cross over Schoharie Creek, and then continue in parallel along the Mohawk River.
The river was used for water supply to the canal, but its path was too unpredictable and rocky to navigate in this junction, hence the parallel path of the Erie Canal along its banks. Once the preferred choice of transportation changed to trucking, the aqueduct was no longer essential for barge transport, and the aqueduct was taken down. The Erie Canal was then routed into the Schoharie Creek and then into the Mohawk River.
The small Visitor Center here at the Crossing was worth its weight in gold; the gallery they presented was so informative, and the walk along the river to see the ruins of the aqueduct gave one the chance to imagine this scene two hundred years earlier, with barges floating across the creek in this massive stone water bridge.
We continued eastward toward Albany. Passing through Amsterdam, I take a few shots of some of the local residential architecture. Victorians, again standing as a memoir of the splendor of another time. Some houses were tidy and well-kept. Some we wondered how people were able to still live in them.
Although it’s Sunday, we’re hoping that we can catch a tour or at least a short visit to the State Capitol today. As we approach the city, we notice a gray haze that doesn’t quite look like water mist or clouds. There is a staleness in the air as well that reminds me of……..old smoke, that’s it. I check the local weather report on my phone and sure enough, we’re in the middle of a smoke pocket. The fires in western Canada are still burning, and the smoke is hanging over upstate New York.
We’re committed at this point to being in this air, as the smoke pocket was hundreds of miles wide, and we are traveling in a camper van. While driving, we could turn on the AC which filtered the air pretty well. But once we stopped, there wasn’t a lot of options to escape it.
We get to downtown Albany and pull up right adjacent to the State Capitol building. What is this?? A parking spot available just waiting there for us? We looked around, and got this eerie feeling that the place was abandoned; there were very few cars on the road, and there weren’t any people around anywhere. I wondered if the news had announced not to go out in the smoky air or something. Or, was it that Albany was just a working town, and people didn’t go downtown, especially to the Capitol Building if they weren’t working today.
We wandered around the Capitol campus, admiring the old and new architecture of the different administration buildings. And, what is this egg thing? It looks like a huge flying saucer, but it’s called The Egg, and its function escaped us. We were able to go into it, but that involved just going in one set of double-doors, and passing through to the other set on the opposite side. There were no signs that indicate the function of the rest of the building, and no apparent stairs, elevators, or entry points to anywhere. Someone will have to fill us in, as we weren’t able to figure this out!
We found an entrance to the huge underground plaza, which was completely empty, I mean not one soul was there besides the two of us.
We made our way across to the underground entrance to the New York Museum, and alas it was open! The air was clean in here and it was cooler than outside as well, so we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the museum which featured historical and artsy exhibits displaying the best of New York. The indigenous peoples display left a bit to be desired. The Iroquois long house was nice, but the display showing the mostly-naked berry gatherers and hunters was just a bit outdated. More info on the geographic distribution of the different First Nations, and the historic trail of interaction with the European settlers might have been a little more educational. But, the museum was otherwise a pleasant place to spend the afternoon.
Driving around town, we were trying to get a feel for the "uptown" versus "downtown" and neighborhoods. Lots of Victorian flats, but we couldn't seem to find that sweet spot in the city where large Victorian houses are painted beautifully and the streets are tree-lined, as we rounded around the Capitol complex. It felt so very urban, and neighborhoods felt a bit oppressed. But the Victorian flats are none-the-less always beautiful to look at too.
For dinner, we followed the advice of numerous comments on the internet as to where you could find a good pizza in Albany. We ended up in this tiny pizza deli, “Sovrana” just northwest of the Capitol. They actually had a gluten-free option! Woohoo! They were mostly serving take-out, as while we dined there, over a dozen people stopped in to pick up their orders. From our window counter seats, we could watch the street scenes, and keep an eye on Lexy parked right out front at the curb. The neighborhood was a little more lively than the neighborhoods we were driving through earlier, with lots of people walking around on this Sunday evening, checking out what everyone else was doing, greeting neighbors, picking up dinner, kids jumping and dancing, teens eyeing everything that moved and staring in awe when a loud motorcycle would roar by.
We felt a need to get out of the urban scene and looked for a park or something green on Google Maps. Across the river we headed, up a nice hill that gave us a great view of the city behind us. We drove a ways and then down a narrow, tree-lined street until we reached……a huge cemetery. Yes, Google Maps colors them that same green that they use to indicate a park. Phil went and checked out the local population of mostly-recent headstones and had some quiet time paying his respect. I sat in the van nearby and did the same. Long day, a moment of quiet did us good.
July 27:
It’s Sunday, and we are in a city with an Episcopal Cathedral. We camped at the Cracker Barrel across the river, so it was an easy trip back into town. We attended the 8:30am service at the Cathedral of All Saints.
It was pouring rain when we dodged into the church. We were just a little soaked around the edges because I insisted that we just use our umbrellas, not get out our full rain gear for a 20 yard dash. Of course, just as we stepped outside the van, the sky let loose, and our little umbrellas were not a match for the fury of that rain and wind.
Walking in, we thought we got the time wrong, as the sanctuary was empty. But, walking around, we found the service in one of the chapels in the far back corner of the church.
I guess the main service for the day was at 10am, so this one was the “early service”. No music, just prayers, a sermon, communion, and such. Afterward we chatted with the Rector. He mentioned that there was a nice restaurant for breakfast up a few blocks, called The Iron Gate, and apparently this was the only restaurant that was open within a square mile, at least that anyone seemed to know about. The rain had subsided by then, so we headed up the street on foot, reluctant to give up our prime parking spot.
Easy to find, we put our name on the wait list at the Iron Gate (40 minute wait?), and decided to walk back to the van in case we had any other options. Amazingly, just as soon as we got back to the van, the Iron Gate called us and said a table was ready.
Only 15 minutes, no less! We hurried back up the street, and were seated to a lovely breakfast of Eggs Benedict and a California omelet. At this point, we both got that feeling that we’ve probably seen enough of Albany, so we planned our next evening; a Harvest Host stay in the Birkshire Hills, after a visit to the Hancock Shaker Village. Let’s go!
The rain drizzled on and off all day. It didn’t diminish the beauty of the Berkshire Hills one bit. Here the Berkshire Hills lined the west edge of Connecticut and Massachusetts. They were beautiful, with little villages and also campgrounds all through the hills. I had to wonder why my family didn’t spend time in the Berkshire Hills when I was growing up in Connecticut. We were campers, even had an Apache tent trailer that we took everywhere else. Why not in the Berkshire Hills? I’ll ask my Mom next time we talk.
We pull into the Shaker Village in Hancock, and can’t help but notice that the parking lot was huge, made for a massive crowd, and we were the only ones parking in it. Was there another lot somewhere else? We walked into the main welcome center and thankfully was assured that the Village was indeed open, but the weather must have dissuaded everyone else from coming. So, with numerous buildings in the Village and just as many docents with stories to tell, we were a captive audience for each of them. The vegetable gardens were beautiful, the furniture in the dining hall and the dorm rooms, all that austere Shaker design. I loved one embroidered plaque in the weaving room that stated, “Make everything you need, perfect to function. But in its perfection, also make it beautiful.”
We learned a lot about the Shaker practices. Other than the celibacy practice, you might think their beliefs and practices were a bit Buddhist-like. Very accepting of others’ flaws, but focused with everything they do as a manifestation of heaven here on Earth, overseen by God upstairs.
After chatting with the village blacksmith, seeing the watermill-powered tool shop, and touring the round barn, we realized the Village was closing, including the Gift Shop. We sailed through it and headed out to check in at our Harvest Host site across town.
We rolled into Ioka Valley Farm and were greeted by Josh and Martha to settle us in. Their main product this time of year was maple syrup. We indulged a bit. Oh my!
July 28:
Today is a day to enjoy the Birkshire Hills a little more on our way to visit Judy in Monson, near Springfield. I indulge in snapping pics of New England architecture.
We stop to look for a trailhead for the Appellation trail for a nice walk, but stumble upon a cross country ski preserve in the Windsor State Forest, just east of Dalton, MA. The main trails are mowed through the summer, so it was a lovely walk.
Onward to visit Judy! We have seen many of Phil’s cousins, and here I get to visit one of mine on this trip! Judy is such an upbeat, active, woman with such integrity and a great wit. It is always such a treat to visit with her!
Judy is very involved in her church, so we go down to peek at the organ which is well-known in the organ concert circuit in the greater Boston area. Afterwards, we enjoy dinner and have a delightful evening of catching up with family members and plans and dreams.
July 29:
Such a lovely morning hanging out with Judy! We end our visit with a lunch in Sturbridge, and then we part our different ways, as we’re off to Rhode Island to visit Bekah, Andrew, and Eleanor.
It is so great to visit your nieces and nephews and see them doing well and becoming the stellar young adults you always knew they would. Bekah and Andrew welcomed us into their house, and updated us on their lives over dinner. Little Eleanor took center stage, and we enjoyed seeing her now at 17 months; the last time we saw her, she was just two days old! We were grateful for the hospitality they shared, and loved catching up with them. And greeting their sweet doggies too!
July 30
We’re checking out the Capitol in Providence. This is a beautiful city, with waterways defining the city regions, and old historic brick buildings intermixed with the stately granite and glass buildings lining the streets.
The Capitol building was impressive, built with white stone and sitting on a hill. The inside is of course impressive, but Congress was not in session so the walls echoed with a bit of quietude. The library is always a treat to visit too, and then we also found the original 1802 painting of George Washington, by Gilbert Stuart.
We love seeing the House and Senate chambers; that feeling of grandeur, like the voices of the many culminate here as their speakers take stage.
We then drove around town, just taking in the sites, enjoying the old and new architecture.
Onward to Swansea Beach, seeking a cool ocean breeze. It's been so hot here!
We watched as a family of swans floated by.
We found a Harvest Host site to stay with near Swansea Beach. This is Stony Creek Farm, where the predominant activity is caring for rescued horses, along with keeping cows, chickens and goats. We met the owner, Erin who just had her knee replaced and was already out dragging hoses, spreading hay, calling the vet, and all the other chores that you'd expect around a horse stable. She was caring for nine horses when we visited.
After her day was done, she left us to hang out with the horses and she went home to get off her feet. I sang to them and I think they liked it. None complained or turned their backs to me. Then, time for them to go to bed, as instructed by Erin; lights out or these old horses get cranky if they don't get their full night's sleep.
July 31:
After Rhode Island, we head northward, stopping in Charlton, Mass, to visit my dear friend from High School, Monica and her hubby Steve. We really need a week to catch up on the decades that escaped us, but we’ll have to start with sharing lunch at Sturbridge and an afternoon visit at Monica’s house. I got to play her grand piano, oh so nice! We sang Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus duet, but I will have to admit I haven’t been practicing while on this trip, so I might have been a little bit rusty. Monica was so polite not to say anything! Oh, it was so nice to see her and Steve!
August 1:
From Worcester eastward, I couldn’t help but notice all the beautiful colonial houses and churches along the way, and the low stone walls lining the property boundaries.
We head to Arlington, just north of Boston to visit Phil’s cousin Sarah. She missed the Ohio reunion due to a foot injury, so we thought we’d bring a little bit of the reunion to her.
After a delightful lunch and visit with Sarah, we head to Newburyport, Mass, which is right on the border of New Hampshire. There, we visit with Phil’s cousin Mike and his wife Lynn. Although this is only the second time we’ve seen them (the first was in Ohio a week or so back), it seemed like we’d known them all our lives. Phil and Mike had so many interests and hobbies that overlapped, and I was fascinated with all of our conversations with Lynn, which covered travels, family updates, politics, anything and everything! I so appreciated her perspective on things, and felt I had so much to share with her as well.
Mike and Lynn’s house is on Plum Island, situated on the river inlet side of the island. What a spectacular view from their back porch! The view changes hourly each day with the tides, and sunsets are wonderful to watch too.
What a magical visit we had with them! Lynn was heading to Spain to pick up her grandchildren and bring them back for a summer visit, so our stay would be short this time. We all remarked how we really needed to arrange a visit again, we just didn’t have enough time together!
August 2:
Newburyport was celebrating its Pioneer Homecoming, so after we spent a kick-back day at the beach, we indulged in walking downtown to watch the fireworks. We didn’t think to bring flashlights, and the walk was pretty dark along a bike trail that wound through trees. We nearly got hit by a lightless bicyclist coming the other way! Jeez!
August 3:
We’re heading north on route 1, into Maine today! Stopping at Betty’s Kitchen for breakfast, just north of Hampton, NH. This place seemed pretty iconic. The wait staff seemed to know everyone personally.
Passing Portsmouth, crossing the bridge into Kittery, Maine, we looked for a schoolyard to park in for an hour or so.
We had a new Starlink Roamer antenna to set up, and we’d been waiting for some free time to dive into it. Hey hey! Success! Now we’re ready to hit the boreal forest of Labrador and stay relatively connected!
We continued northward heading for Maine, heading for Boothbay Harbor, to visit Phil’s cousins Marcia, Candy, and Charlie. Just before the state border, there was a New Hampshire State Liquor Store at the rest stop on I-95. No sales tax on liquor in this state, so hey-hey, we head inside to see what a state liquor store was all about. A bottle or two later, we couldn’t pass up a display of airplane-sized taster bottles of butterscotch liqueur at the checkout counter. A half-dozen of these will be fabulous, if we ever have chilly evenings again and need something to warm us up while we watch the sun set.
Onward, through Portland, Brunswick, Bath, and finally out to Barter’s Island and Boothbay Harbor, we drive up the dirt driveway to the cousins’ summer get-away house on the coast.
August 4 – 8
This is a magical place, and we floated through a magical time, hanging with the cousins on the coast of Maine. Lobster for dinner at the Boothbay Lobster Wharf, boat rides around the island and into the harbor with neighbor Paul at the helm, sitting around the outdoor fire pit on the patio overlooking the Sheepscott River, telling stories and visiting with these wonderful women. They shared their guest house with us, affectionately named, “the Shed”. All was just absolutely delightful, and we hope we kept on our best behavior so that we’d be invited back again, maybe even next year!
August 8
Not in any hurry to leave our cousins and this coastal paradise, we lingered as long as we could, and reluctantly departed mid-morning. We had scheduled some brake work on Lexy in Brunswick that was a difficult appointment to make, so we had to be sure to keep it. The rear brakes were ready for replacement, and we weren’t going to mess with trying to get them fixed somewhere in the boreal forest of Labrador. So, off to Brunswick we went.
Brakes fixed a few hours later, we’re heading north, and overnight at a Walmart in Bangor, now bound for the Canadian border. We’ve been watching the air quality again, and there is an ominous haze hanging over Maine. It’s just so perplexing to me; I cannot put the rural, green hills and forest of Maine together with the smell of ozone and particulates. The fires in Canada rage on, and the haze floats eastward, and so it is.Beautiful coastal Maine with smog.We’ll live.
August 9
Heading north, we divert off I-95 onto route 111, as we wanted to cross the border at a place with a slower tempo, and the drive was just so beautiful. Heading north to Fort Kent, then east for the border crossing at Frenchville, and crossing into Edmundston, New Brunswick was the perfect choice.
New Brunswick is a bilingual province, but Edmundston is in this narrow sliver of the province that jutted westward along the border, with Quebec province sitting very closely to the north. The language on the streets here is French, although we found that everyone from here also spoke English as if they were raised in New Hampshire. This was a gentle way for me to resurrect my French vocabulary from high school and college! It was a delightful experience, where everything was different enough that we could verify that we were now in a different country, but everyone was helpful with instant translations. Phil would say “Bonjour”, and they would immediately speak in English to us.
After Phil fixes a leak in the roof thru the fog lights, we head north and meet the great St. Lawrence River at Riviere-du-Loup, and then head east along the coast of the Gaspesie Peninsula, now in Quebec province.
It’s a beautiful summer day, and there are local festivals everywhere. One popular event was a mini village of bouncy houses. We saw a few of these set up while in Canada.
We also stopped in Rimouski to take a walk around town, and there was a car show happening in the town hall. How close are we to Detroit? There was a huge following of the 70’s muscle cars here, lots of GTO’s Mustangs, Firebirds, plus a number of classic Thunderbirds and even a Model T. At this point, all language communications were in French, the street signs were not translated and the international traffic signs were used. We might have felt like we were somewhere in France, but then to come across a car show with Mustangs and GTO’s? That threw me out of the European setting and back to our continent rapidmente!
The drive along the north coast of the Gaspesie peninsula is truly beautiful. With the great St. Lawrence Seaway in the backdrop, you feel you are on the edge of the earth with everything else an ocean away.
We stayed at an established campsite in St. Ulric right on the beach last night. Fees for the night were donation-based. The campground was situated where everyone parked perpendicular to the road; if you saw a spot between two RV’s where you might fit, you backed right in and pulled out a bottle of wine to share with the neighbors. We met fellow travelers (although all of them were from Montreal) and talked about our travels, their travels, Labrador, the big Orange Man running the US right now, and a wealth of info about what we were going to see on our epic road trip. We are especially grateful to Louise and Paul, who gave us impeccable travel tips on all the Atlantic Provinces. Our travels keep getting better and better, the more people we meet and share ideas and stories!
St. Ulric is a tiny town stretched along the one main roadway, squeezed between it and the coastline of the St. Lawrence. It is quaint and beautiful, such a treasure.
August 10
With every hour that passes, my French vocabulary doubles, drawing from those distant brain cells of high school. Most of college I spent reading and writing in French, so my vocabulary was decent but my ear was not trained on interpreting spoken French. I feel lost, not being able to understand a bit of what people were saying. I could make up my own sentences and speak, but then I couldn’t make headways of anything that was spoken back to me. Everything sounded like, “Fwa-da-blah-blah-blah”. I am so bummed! I do feel victorious though at the grocery store. We went into the self-check-out lane and I was able to operate the screens well enough. Funny though, after we were done, the check-out attendant came over to us and said, “you speak English, yes? Here, you should pick your language,” and pressed the “LANGUE” button in the upper right corner of the screen, and everything turned to English. Now, what fun was there in that? I really was trying to operate the machine in French!
Continuing along the northern coast of the Gaspesie Peninsula, we stopped at a lighthouse at La Martre where we met a photographer who knew every inch of the Atlantic provinces. We chatted with him for nearly an hour after checking out the lighthouse and the adjacent church.
Driving this route, you can’t help but notice the churches. The steeples are very tall and pointy, the buildings are so outsized that they just are so out of scale with the other buildings of the village that usually surrounds them. You see the churches rise over the horizon as you drive along, and know a village is about to arrive on your route, nearly like a lighthouse in the water, the church steeples show you where each village is located. But, you also notice that none of the churches on the north shore of the Gaspesie peninsula are still worship places with a congregation. Most have been kept up by the villages, some are used as community centers or art galleries, but none of them are actually churches any longer. We asked about this, and an historian in New Brunswick told us that between the lumber, steel, and fishing industries that had moved out of the area, the young people all moved with them. The remainder of the population are older folks. There might have been enough of them to support about half of the churches on the coast, but these churches are all built by the Catholic Church, and as the archdiocese is in Quebec City, the decision was made to pull out of the coastal area and concentrate on areas where there was population growth.
We pull over at a stretch of beach in St-Maxime-du-Mont-Louis and have our first poutine. If you’ve never had poutine, , well you are missing something. French fries with gravy poured on, then smothered on top with cheese curds. That’s the basic recipe. Food trucks throughout Canada are creating their signature poutine recipe, some with curry and seafood, some with pulled pork, bacon, and barbeque sauce, some with meatballs even. But none that we have had really are as good as the basic recipe. Yum!
We’re now down at the eastern tip of the Gaspesie Peninsula, visiting the Forillon National Park. Hot-diggety! The Canadian National Parks are all free for the summer!With the tariff issues between Canada and the US, the Canadian government has been persuading its citizens to boycott the US whenever possible. Thus, they don’t import any US wines and other products, and they’re not vacationing in the US. To entice Canadians to vacation here at home, the government made all National Parks free, and have reduced all road and ferry tolls by 50%. We are here at the right time. And, even with this, we haven’t noticed a crazy number of people in the parks. Maybe there are more people here than normal, but to us it’s a chill crowd. But If I hadn’t mentioned this before, we haven’t met any Canadian that wasn’t a chill, go-with-the-flow kind of person. It’s been marvelous, and so much easier to get into that island-vacation mode.
We stayed at “Camping Baie de Gaspe”, just outside the national park. They had one last spot for us. It was nice, the view was great!
But, pulling out of our spot, there was a ridge across the road that hit just perfectly against our sewer valve under the van. Bang! Cracked it with a clean cut right outside the black tank valve. Oh no, deja-vu here. When this happened on our trip to Alaska in 2022, we pulled the whole toilet out, shipped it home, and put in a little temporary boat toilet. But this time, even the gray waste valve wasn’t going to work right. What to do…… And, of course, it’s Sunday. Enjoy the drive, avoid using the toilet, and worry about it on Monday. We’ll just have to stay at campgrounds that have bathrooms until we can get it fixed, or end up pulling out the toilet and buying another little portable unit.
We drive out to the point of the peninsula and go for a hike, and at the top of the hill, there is a tower to climb. Oh my, it feels like you’re in an airplane from the top, we’re up so high above the coastline!
Lots of other sights to see here on the coast. It’s so beautiful here! But glad to be done with our hike in the morning because it is getting really hot outside. Up into the 90’s, with a high humidity, it’s just awful where your skin feels hot and wetter than if you were in a hot pool. With the AC blowing in the cab of our van, we headed south along the coast. The roads are starting to get a little ragged. I hear that they are in better shape in New Brunswick than Quebec, so we’re looking forward to that when we cross into New Brunswick tomorrow.
We stay at Parc du Bourg de Pabos, where the campground had just one spot available for us. And, they had lovely bathrooms and showers. It was so hot, everyone here was going to the beach and jumping in the lukewarm Atlantic ocean, just trying to beat the heat. The park attendant said it was about 20 degrees (Celsius!) warmer than usual. With our spot that had electric hookups, thank goodness, we ran the AC and just literally tried to chill for the evening.
August 11
We’re heading south along the coast toward Bathurst. I start calling RV repair shops, delighted to see that there were three that came up on Google Maps. I left a message with the first, Roulottes Acadie Trailers, Inc, whose outgoing message was in French and then again in English, a good sign for us. I was trying to figure out how to have a conversation in French about what was wrong with the van. I called two other places, and they referred me back to Roulottes Acadie, so we’re hoping that they can help us. Back home, there isn’t a repair shop across the land that will do a job like this as a drop-in, even if we were to be so lucky that they had the part in stock. So, our expectations are low that we’re going to be able to fix this, but it was worth a try.
August 12
Still three hours from Bathurst, we finally connect with the repair shop. They say they’ll take a look at it when we get to town. That’s promising…. So, enjoy the coastline along the drive. Once we were there, Gilles at the repair shop said to come on by and they’d take a look at it. The experience we had at this shop made me realize that we were truly visiting a foreign country; this would never have rolled back home the way it did with this shop. They diagnosed the problem and identified the part we’d need. They didn’t have it in stock, but they called around to a dozen places nearby to see if anyone else had it. They did find it, brand new even! They’d have it brought over first thing in the morning. So, in the meantime, Jean-Luc (not Picard, mind you) called the campground nearby and reserved a spot for us for the night. Can this really be happening? What’s the catch??? We felt elated as we went over to the campground and checked in, and then drove up the “Acadien Peninsula” to Caraquet for Phil’s birthday dinner celebration. At the restaurant, they weren’t serving any items that were cooked in the oven or the fryer on account of the heat wave. We were craving seafood chowder anyway, so that worked out. It was absolutely delicious!
It just so happens that this coming weekend is the big annual Acadian celebration so everyone was sailing their Acadian flags (the French flag with a gold star in the upper left corner) and banners in prep for the parade and party.
Caraquet became the central city for the Acadian population; there is also an historic Acadian village just outside of Caraquet where the docents wear time-period clothes of the 17-18th century and tell visitors about the ancient Acadian lifestyle. Acadians were a group of French colonists who settled in Nova Scotia and set up their farming community. They were known for inventive means of turning salt marshes into freshwater agricultural fields, among other clever practices. They fell out of favor with the British during the wars with the French, the Native Americans, and/or the US colonists. Acadians lived where the British also felt they had the law of the land in Nova Scotia, so of course the British insisted on their allegiance and support with their war efforts. Acadians insisted that they stay neutral from all sides, as they had good relations with the Native Americans and the French. The British tolerated this for a short time, but eventually exiled all the Acadians from Nova Scotia, sending them out to sea and destroying their villages. Many Acadians landed down in Louisiana, hence the development of the “Cajun” community there. Over the next hundred years, the Acadians started venturing back to Canada, and congregated near Caraquet and the outlying peninsula, in New Brunswick province. The community is now blended with the 21st century communities in every way throughout the Atlantic provinces, but they maintain a strong connection with their heritage, and are proud to say, “I am Acadian/ Je suis Acadien”.
August 13
While we’re waiting for our sewer part to arrive, we toodle
around Bathurst, checking out the local museum.
Lots of local tidbits of info, plus a small display representing the
local First Nation people of the region. We met Nancy, the museum director, and
her staff, as they were moving furniture in prep for a concert in the
evening. I felt right at home with this,
and thought fondly of our concert series I help with back home. The museum was
fun, like we got to know a lot about the local townspeople and their history.
And alas, we got the call that the part came in! Over to Acadie Trailers we went! We hung out in the front sales room while the maestro did his work in the shop in the back.
All intact again, we head back toward the heart of the Acadian nation, and set our sights for Miscou Island just past Caraquet.
I called the Miscou Camping to reserve a spot, but there was a lot of interference with the line, so we switched to texting. Half in French, half in English. Just then, a ferocious squall rolled into us; there suddenly was lightening striking down everywhere around us, and we couldn’t see out our windshield on account of the amount of rain that was hammering into us. We crawled along on the road until we saw a driveway come up, and turned to get off the road. Once there, we were facing three other cars on that driveway that had just done the same thing. I don’t know if this is a normal thing for these folks around here, but it was scary! In those 15 minutes while we watched for the rain to let up, we must have seen about 4 inches worth of rainfall. I texted the campground and said we’d most likely head back to Bathurst because of the storm. She said, “what storm? Ici, ciel bleu! Blue skies, no rain since June”. I wanted to tell her to batten down the hatches because this was going to be a doozy.
Once the storm cleared, we could see that it wasn’t heading out toward Miscou Island, so we continued on our path out to the campground and lighthouse. I kept looking over my shoulder though, to see if any clouds were changing their minds and heading northward toward us.
At the northern-most point of Miscou Island is a lighthouse, managed by the Canada National Parks. They closed at noon today because of the heat wave. We could walk around the grounds though, and we also found a little café open nearby.
Phil and I ordered a glass of wine, a few sweet treats, and sat on the sea-facing balcony at that little café, enjoying one of the most lovely afternoons ever. The heat broke by this time, and we basked in this wonderful balmy breeze coming off the water.
Back at the campground, we met our host, such a lovely person! Of course, she introduced herself as Acadien, and thus she was obligated to make sure that we enjoyed our stay at her campground.
She and her husband had purchased this land years ago, but had just opened the campground for the third year and were still developing parts of it. The bathrooms were beautiful, designed like a modern spacious washroom in beautiful tiles and surfaces. Our site had full hookups, but she only charged us for electric and water (two-way hookups, as they refer to it here. With sewer added, it would be called, “three-way”). She then loaded us on her golf cart and took us into the back woods to see this Viking rune stone that her husband uncovered about 200 yards away from the camping area. OMG!
There is still no concrete evidence that the Vikings had landed so far south in the Atlantic provinces. Up in Newfoundland is a rather recently certified site that Phil and I hope to visit later, but here in New Brunswick, nothing has been certified as authentic Viking evidence. She still might have it authenticated, but she just knows it’s real, she can feel it emanate a silent message, and it presents images of different things as you walk around it. Sort-of like looking at clouds, I see a doggie, Phil sees a dragon. We walked around the rune stone, and surely enough, we saw faces of people and animals appear and dissolve with each step. There weren’t any inscriptions on the rock, but inscriptions could have been worn off after a thousand years. What an incredible experience!
August 14
Time to head south off Miscou Island and down the Caraquet
peninsula. We checked out the Shippagan
Aquarium. Not quite like the Scripps
Aquarium in San Diego, but it was educational and beautiful.
For the night, we stayed at “the Shire” in Upper New Horton, New Brunswick. It’s a free camp spot owned by this gentle older man who likes to host younger folks on their journeys. He was a bit of a doomsday believer, with his favorite prophecies to hold onto. In the meantime while waiting for Judgement day, he wants to help travelers find their way. There are eclectic garden ornaments scattered throughout the area. This place is quite fun!
We met a couple who had been bicycling their way from Quebec City.
Another group of about eight twenty-something’s arrived and asked if we were here to party, and invited us to join their circle. Although we didn’t sit in their circle and smoke herbs, we did have some nice conversations with two of the group members. We are always amazed at how much these Canadians seem to know about the goings-on around the world, particularly of the US’ historical and current actions. And, even when they are a little high. And even in their 20’s. Impressive.
August 15
Dipping further southward, we arrive on the north shore of
the Bay of Fundy. Hopewell Rocks National
Park is the place to take in the massive tidal fluctuations, with tall rock
formations that become little islands at high tide, and tall columnar monoliths
at low tide. The tides are known to vary
between 30 and 50 feet in elevation, depending on the moon phase and weather
conditions. The excessive tides are
believed to be caused in part by the shape of the bay, with tidal water moving
into a long and narrow bay; wide enough to let lots of water in, but narrow
enough to restrict where the water is going.
The Bay is sometimes called the World’s Largest Bathtub, because of the
way the water sloshes up against the shore, being pushed by the tide coming in
behind it.
We hung out at the park long enough to see the tide come in. At low tide, there are tons of people wandering on the dry gravel, and then at high tide, there are kayakers weaving between the rock formations.
Tonight we are going to head to Prince Edward Island There is one bridge that will take you there. This bridge is 16 miles long! And, it’s made of stone and concrete! You can also take a ferry from Nova Scotia to the island; lots of people only take the ferry because the bridge wigs them out.
Prince Edward Island is a beautiful place! Most of the island is agricultural, with
national and provincial parks also scattered along the shoreline. Thus, there are lots of vacationers enjoying
the beaches and lush campgrounds and very laid-back places of interest here and
there amongst the hectares of kale and alfalfa growing there.
August 16
We found a great laundromat located in the middle of a
boardwalk-style beachy shopping/restaurant mall. And, they had a kite store right next to the
laundromat! Oh my! I just had to go look.
We were introduced to this funky deep-fried potato snack: a single potato spiral-cut and threaded onto a skewer, then deep-fried. It tasted exactly like French Fries, but much more fun to eat.
We check out the Cavindish National Park and take a hike on
a nicely groomed trail that ran parallel to the shoreline. We notice that lots of trees are toppled
over. Apparently, Hurricane Dorian came
through in 2019 and knocked over a huge percent of the local conifer tree
population. The trees’ roots were
shallow, so over they went. The area is
still repopulating its foliage after the storm.
We can’t leave the park before checking out the groomed beach. Loads of people are here, and it is warmer than normal, and the end of summer is in sight. Great time to head for the beach!
We head into Charlottetown, the largest city on the island. Perfect timing to see a Mr. Lube as we’re now due for an oil change. Woohoo, that was easy! The hardest part was watching two of the technicians trying to convert the “next oil change due in xx kilometers” into a miles value. They asked if we wouldn’t mind switching our odometer to read kilometers instead of miles so that they didn’t have to get their computer to convert it and print the “next oil change due..” window sticker in miles. We said, no, we wanted to leave it in miles. They struggled for a few minutes more, and finally got it to work. So, we have our “Mr. Lube, Next Oil Change Due at 87.499 Miles” sticker stuck to the driver’s side windshield and I chuckle every time I look at it.
What a beautiful waterfront and lovely downtown!
For the night, we boondocked at the Charlottetown Farmers’
Market parking lot. We joined another
couple also parking there, and all of us were glad for the company. Sometimes it feels more safe when there are
two rigs camped out together. Not that
there was any apparent reason to feel unsafe here in Charlottetown, but there
was a bike trail that cut across the parking lot, and you just never know who
might meander off trail in the middle of the night. Chances are greatly reduced that you’d get
harassed at all when there are two of you.
August 17
Oh boy! The Downtown
Market is happening this morning! Right
adjacent to the beautiful harbor, there are tents lined up with vendors selling
handmade crafts and exotic, delectable food booths to beckon you along. Some of the market is permanently indoors,
but all the cool stuff is under the tents outdoors.
Heading back off the island, we are taking the ferry. A short drive from Charlottetown, across that lush agricultural landscape, what a beautiful drive. And the ferry is lovely. It’s a two-hour ride, so just as you get your sea legs, it’s time to load up and drive off.
As we approached the shoreline of Nova Scotia, we noticed all the smoke in the air. There is a huge fire burning right now in the Annapolis area (south-central Nova Scotia), and the smoke is hanging in the still and hot air, trapped by a high pressure weather system. Stifling to say the least. We have been in smoky air on and off throughout this journey, and it has been about 15-20 degrees warmer than the normal air temperature everywhere we’ve been. Dry, hot weather and wildfires is just not what you’d expect in these north Atlantic provinces. We now hear that all roads and trails that traverse into forested public lands are closed due to high risk of fire. No hikes throughout Nova Scotia. So, we can go to the parks, the visitor centers are open, but we can’t leave the parking lots; all trails are closed.
August 18
We’re heading southward along the northern shore of Nova
Scotia, now following the southern side of the Bay of Fundy. At Burntcoat Head Park, we are able to climb
up into the lookout house on the bay, way up into the copula above the
roof.
We area able to walk down to the shoreline and again, see the rock formations that are exposed when the tide moves out.
The landscape is beautiful here in Nova Scotia. Not quite as lush as the agricultural land of Prince Edward Island, but beautiful as a slightly drier ecosphere.
We come across the Grand Pre National Historic Site, and learn the details of the Acadians. This site displays info on their origin and their brutal banishment from their farmland here. Grand Pre was the location where they were gathered and loaded onto ships by the British. This is now a UNESCO site, with a commemorative chapel and beautiful gardens in their honor.
Continuing eastward along the coast, we camp in the Queen Elizabeth II Jubilee Park, in the small town of Bridgetown. This is a lovely little park, on the winding Annapolis River.
Starting at the park, the town designed a walking trail that took us visitors on an historic stroll through town. Noting some of the buildings in town either for their architectural interest or some other claim to fame, the trail was entertaining, even winding through two cemeteries in town. This perked Phil’s interest; there is a lot you can learn about a town by strolling through its cemeteries.
When we got back to our van Lexy in the park, we had neighbors that joined us in their Dodge Promaster van just like ours. They called their van Lilly, inspired by the “Li” suffix in its model name (indicating a lithium-powered coach battery.) We chatted with our new neighbors Craig and LeAnn after dinner until bedtime. From Ontario, they just sold their house, and are taking six months to tour Canada as they migrate to the Vancouver area where their son lives. We chatted about everything, and they were delightful company. LeAnn was a natural travel guide, giving us all sorts of insights on where to travel, what to skip if we run out of time, and what to be sure not to skip as we make our way across Nova Scotia. Although Phil and I avoid talking politics when we travel, we were very curious about the general perspective of the Canadian people on what’s going on with their squirrely neighbors to the south. We felt apologetic about our current bruising that our two country’s relationship is taking, and wondered what they thought about the current state of affairs. “We still see Americans as our siblings, we love the Americans”, Craig said. He then added, “We just don’t care for the orange guy in Washington right now. But, we just need to get through this phase and work to get back to where we were in the next administration that comes along.” I asked about how Canadians seem to know more about the US than even a lot of US citizens do. He said, “well, when you are in bed in a cage with the elephant, you have to know everything about them. When they shift, you shift quick too. If you aren’t aware of their movement, you’ll get squashed.” Aha! We were then talking about wine and our Sonoma/Napa favorites, and they mentioned that they couldn’t get any California wines right now because Canada has boycotted American goods. Talking more on the subject, it’s politically incorrect right now for a Canadian to travel southward or have any commercial interaction with the US. The country has rallied a patriotic movement to replace its dependence on the US, at least for its popular products and travel. They say, “Elbow’s Up!”, a hockey term, meaning get on the defensive, a rally call for the team. We can’t blame them. We all hope things will change soon. Fortunately for us, we haven’t met any Canadians who carry a grudge against the American people, just the current administration.
Trekking across Nova Scotia today, we take in the local
landscape Noticeably a little bit drier than Prince
Edward Island, but still quite picturesque.
Following the northwest coast, we take a turn southward into the center of the province, to visit Kejimkujik National Park (Keji Park, for short). Our visit here is shortened because there is a wildfire still burning out of control in Annapolis county, just to the east of the park. Although the park is open for visitors, they’ve closed all hiking and walking trails in the park, and actually all through the province. In this area, it’s to keep walkers out of harm’s way. Across the rest of the province, it’s to lower the risk of hikers starting new fires. It’s pretty smoky here, and we can’t hike anywhere anyway, so we stop to see the lakes, and then move along to the south shore of the province.
The town of Lunenburg is such a pretty place! Winding narrow roads leading us down to the harbor, all lined with old Victorians and other architectural genres, all painted and restored to their time of glory.
Continuing along the coast, we take a short detour down a causeway over to Oak Island. This is where the TV show, “The Curse of Oak Island” is filmed. When we arrived, we were told that they were currently filming, so we couldn’t poke around. But we got to see the memorial they put up to honor the six who have died trying to find the lost treasure. According to the curse, one more person will die before the treasure is found. We asked the entry attendant how long they would be filming for this season. She said through September. Phil then said, of course, they’ll end sooner if they find the treasure. She laughed.
We then meander down to Peggy’s Cove, probably one of the
most picturesque places on the planet. A
huge granitic mound of rock makes up the cove, with a lighthouse at the tip of
the rock and a little harbor carved out in the middle. The cove is home to a
small fishing village that still tries to operate despite the troves of
tourists climbing the rocks like scavenger ants. We were told that, if we ask permission from
the Sou’Wester restaurant near the lighthouse, they’d let us stay in the back
of the parking lot overnight with our van.
So, we did, and they let us!
August 20
Continuing along the shoreline, you just can’t get over how
beautiful the water is, lined and scattered with boulders everywhere. Early in the day, the water in the endless inlets
is just as still as can be, adding that calmness to the serene landscape.
Suddenly there is lots of traffic on the road, as we transition from rural coastline into Halifax, the capitol of Nova Scotia. We find a 24-hour parking lot right at the base of the Halifax Citadel. Yay! That’s the first place that we were going to visit.
Afterward, we walk down to the boardwalk along the harbor, and catch the downtown sites. We can’t help but indulge in an order of poutine, with pulled pork and bacon added, no less!
Putting a little more money in the parking meter, we are able to stay in this 24-hour parking lot all night Woohoo! We honker down for the night. What a delectable day!
August 21
Leaving Halifax, we head east across The Narrows and follow
the coastline eastward. The terrain is
beautiful, as we witness the fringe between water and land.
August 22
We camped near the living museum of Sherbrooke Village, so we decide to go back in time about 200 years, and spend a day in this town. In the parking area, we stopped to talk with Francis while he polished his brass canon.
Phil met his soul-bro Tony who was the blacksmith , and also an avid old-fashioned bicycle specialist. Phil now wants to get one of these monsters.
This place was so interesting, it was delightful! We made paper, set print type and printed on an old press, met a pharmacist, a tailor, a housekeeper, and others who, in full costume, gave us a feeling that we were really back walking through their timeline. Fascinating!
The main road along the coast has to cross so many river inlets and fjords as we head eastward! Most of the crossings are on bridges, but we come across one or two that are ferries. It’s bewildering to be following the road, and then make a sharp turn only to find that the road leads straight into the water. You then see the small ferry coming back from the other side, and relax knowing you are in the right place following the highway.
We are starting to hear about hurricane Erin, which is making its way up the east coast. So far, it’s staying about 100 miles offshore, but North Carolina got sloshed with high tides from it anyway. It’s too early to know if the hurricane will stay offshore or dive in a little closer to the coastline. That said, I’m starting to plan for higher ground over the next few days. Phil is not worried and wants to stay on the coast. We’ll put our ear to the wind (and it did get windy!!) and be ready to head inland.
It’s so beautiful here, we decide to stay an extra day. Our campsite is literally a few feet from the water’s edge, and it’s just lovely. Our campsite has laundry and good cell service, so I’m ready to do some catch-up on chores and just breathe in the cleansing ocean air.
The sunsets here were spectacular. So beautiful, with the seagrass, the orange lichen on the granitic rocks, the busy sky with dramatic clouds, a quiet fishing village in the backdrop. Beautiful.
August 24
We are now joining the entire vacationing population of Nova Scotia and heading for Cape Breton, the muti-fingered spray of islands and peninsulas in the north-east of the province. When I look at the shape of Nova Scotia, I think of a whale, swimming westward. The head and body dipping southwestward, with the tail of Cape Breton Island splashing northeastward. Onward, we are heading for the tail.
Other than Halifax and the popular Peggy’s Cove, you would be hard-pressed to find a spot where there is traffic in Nova Scotia. I will add one more exception to this list; Port Hastings is located right where the tail is attached to the body, and there is only one road that connects the two parts of this whale. All vehicles that made it here onto the island of Cape Breton had to come through the Port Hastings passage. It is a very busy place! And, Cape Breton is known as the place where Nova Scotians go on vacation, so there are tons of RVs and cars packed with bulging roof racks, and everyone is happy to cross into the land of beauty and fun.
Cape Breton is frequently compared with Scotland. The highlands in the northern area look
exactly like the Scottish countryside, and then there is a large population of
Scottish descendants living in the area, which cinches it in.
Our first stop is the Alexander Graham Bell National
Historic Site in Baddeck. There is a
large exhibit here of his life’s accomplishments in teaching of the deaf, sound
engineering, and even aerodynamics. Did
anyone else know that Alexander Graham Bell lived and worked in Nova
Scotia? I learned so much about Mr.
Bell, and the development of these disciplines in their infancy. Something else that adds to the intrigue of
this place is that Bell’s descendants still live just across the strait from the
exhibit hall, in Beinn Bhreagh.
We have set out to drive the Cabot Trail, a route that encircles the Cape Breton Island, partially following the coast, and then for intrigue, it cuts upward and follows the ridge and spine of the highlands range. Our first day here is exclusively along the coast. We pop in to see the Neils Harbour Lighthouse just outside of New Haven. The wind was wicked here at the point! We fought the wind and walked over to the Chowder House next door, for some delicious clam chowder. Oh my, it was so good!
For the night, we boondocked on a small parking area right
on the rocks overlooking the harbor.
This was such a magical place!
Another van pulled in and we got chatting with its owner Tyler, a
personal trainer who was out on a walk-about for a year. He named his van, “Lost Our Compass”. While the three of us chatted and watched the
waves, a man walked down to meet us from the house just uphill across the
road. Phil was thinking, okay, we’re
parked on his property, we’re cool, we can move if he prefers we not stay. Well, he introduced himself as Justin, the
owner of the house up on the hill. His
parents and grandparents live in the two houses right behind his, and he goes
fishing for work and for something to do with his time. And, by the way, would we like some of this
halibut he just caught? He has way too
much to fit in his freezer. Wow, what
just happened? Justin was truly enthralled
to talk with us and Tyler about our travels, since he’s lived just here in this
house at Neils Harbour all his life and except for going fishing, he doesn’t
get far from this area. We felt both
grateful for his hospitality and glad to share our travel experiences with him. What a beautiful evening.
August 25
In the morning, we were just making our coffee and a bald
eagle settled on the rock right in front of us.
Could this place get any more magical?
We continued northward up the Cabot Trail route, noting the small hamlets and quaint houses hanging on the edge of the rocky shoreline. As we reached the northernmost range of the peninsula, we turned westward and entered the Highlands. The road followed the canyons formed by the Aspy Fault, rippling the landscape and distinctly dividing the east and west coast of the Cape Breton peninsula. It made an adventurous drive, with 15% grade hills and sharp hairpin turns, with our views alternating between startling beautiful peaks of the coast and steep mountain slopes every time we turned a corner.
Reaching the west side of the peninsula, we stopped to take in a gorgeous ocean view. At the Whale Interpretive Center near Pleasant Bay, we walk on the rocky beach and take in all the cairns built in the sand. I also pick up a conversation with a couple that pulled up next to us that have the same Pleasure-Way Lexor van as we have! Anne and Luis are from Quebec Province, and speak French, but with my limited French vocabulary and their growing vocabulary in English, we were able to have a lovely conversation on their travels and their fun with their van.
August 26
Fort Louisburg was actually a fortress (a village within the
walls of the fort), with a full community of reenactment villagers in full
character and dialect buzzing around, giving visitors the full experience of
being here three centuries earlier. I
confess, I took a reprieve from the fort visit to sit and stare at the ocean
waves, but Phil spent the entire day being a resident of Fort Louisburg. This was probably not a site that I should
have passed up, but my brain was quite full at this point and I needed to slow
down and let everything settle.
Wandering the grounds outside the walls of the fort was just the thing I
needed.
Borrowing a few pics from Phil, Fort Louisburg did look quite fascinating.
August 27
Today is an exciting day!
We will be boarding an overnight ferry in Sydney that will take us to
Argentia, Newfoundland. We want to get to
the loading area early because we’re anxious not to be late, but we’re not due
to set sail until 4:00pm. Make the best
of the hours we have!
We go out to see the lighthouse across the strait from the
fortress. The ocean is so beautiful.
It was early when we awoke in our cabin on the ferry. Throwing the window shade open, we saw the
sun rising over the rocky land of Newfoundland.
We were cruising northward up a fjord to the ferry terminal at
Argentia. Let’s get up and watch from
the top deck!
We had breakfast, and nicely enough, we were seated right next to our friends, Anne and Luis from Quebec City. We had such a lovely conversation, my trying to recall my French vocabulary again, and Anne and Luis getting better and better with their English. While we were seated, a whale fluttered past the boat, just skimming the surface of the water. I couldn’t get a good picture, but we enjoyed the scene.
We found a place to boondock in the hills just inland from
Placentia, overlooking a small lake (they call them all “ponds” here). No sooner did we get set up, when a car drove
up, and the folks in the car said there were much better places to camp just
another 100 yards down the road. They
said they’d show us, and drove up the way a bit and parked. Sure enough, the new spot they showed us had
an even better view of another pond. We
started chatting with them, Wanda and Gerald.
They said they were out looking for blueberries. They said the best places for them were up a
dirt road that we couldn’t get our van up, but they’d take us along if we
wanted to hop in their car. Now, the old
part of my head is saying, “don’t get in their car!!! You don’t know them!”. But, we did anyway, and had a fabulous time picking
blueberries and chatting with our first Newfoundlanders. Gerald said that we’d have to get used to
this. I asked, “what, picking
blueberries”? He said, “no, having
Newfoundlanders telling you what to do the whole time you are here.”
We picked about a gallon of wild blueberries and had a blast
chatting with our new friends. They had
their fifth-wheel parked for the summer just over a few hills from where we
were parked. They were from the town of
Dildo, and came down every weekend with their kids and grand-kids. How wonderful! I asked if all the land in the area was
“federal land”, like our BLM land.
Gerald said, yes this is all “crown land” in this area, so it’s open for
people to camp out.
You might have noticed, there are some pretty peculiar place
names here in Newfoundland. I am still
trying to figure out if the early settlers here had a wicked sense of humor, or
just took their first impression that came to them at this new place. There are, of course other place names that
just had the unfortunate slip in translation.
I believe the town “Dildo” was started as a French name “D’ile d’eau,
loosely translated as “of the island of water”.
Maybe Placentia had some ancient meaning related to “new Harbor” or
something like that. But, as we are
driving around the island, we’re seeing towns called, “Witless Bay”, “Harbour
Main”, “Heart’s Content”, “Heart’s Desire”, “Heart’s Delight”, “Spread Eagle”,
“Come By Chance”, and “Deep Bight”.
Worth a good chuckle as you pass the road signs, for sure.
We got a little rain that first night, so the gravel road
was a bit pot-holey and the holes were full of water. No telling how deep they are, so we traverse
carefully. We are now on our way to the
southern tip of the Rock, to visit Carol at the Edge of the Avalon Inn in
Trepassy. We had met Carol while
traveling in Florida last year. She
invited us up to her inn in Newfoundland, so we took her up on the invitation.
