Hello and Goodbye

I think I have more or less covered our Down East trip just in time for our next vacation. The A Team is flying in from Vancouver today, and we'll head off to the cottage tomorrow. There is almost no internet or at least v.e.r.y.s.l.o.w internet there, so I'll be withdrawing for a week or so.

I have been posting a lot of our trip photos to Flickr lately. Initially, I was just going to post my best shots, but then I changed my mind and opted for a more comprehensive posting. I'm going to insert them as a slideshow below. This is a plain flipping-of-the-pictures show with no clever zooming or music.

I have 67 pics in here, more or less in sequential order, and I think I will eventually add a few more. Truthfully, I don't expect anybody but me and Cuppa to watch it. Some blogs we simply post for ourselves, generally reminders that we can re-visit from time to time. If you do decide to have a look, please consider viewing the large format presentation as opposed to the insert below. In either case, you can hurry the show along a little bit by continuing to press play or next.

Have a good week. Talk to you soon.

Loyalist, Traitor or What?

Sharing the continent with the American goliath means that we receive much information from their perspective. I mean to say that when you have 300 million rich and powerful neighbours, you tend to take note, and one thing that I've noted is that Benedict Arnold was a traitor. Equating treachery with Benny Boy is as common up here as it is down there.

So, when I came to a chainsaw carving (background story a few posts down — this post would have been sequential if ... well ... it's a long story) of Mr Arnold in Saint John, I was somewhat taken aback by the title in the accompanying description: "Rebel and Loyalist." How's that? Shouldn't it read "Patriot Turned Traitor?" Well, it should if you are American but apparently not if you are British, or even Canadian I guess. From the British standpoint, he was a rebel who returned to the faith, so to speak.



According to the signage (and this information is all on the picture of the plaque below if you don't believe me and wish to embiggen in order to read the original), Benedict Arnold had won some major victories for the US army but married a British Loyalist when he was recuperating from battle wounds. Apparently, she influenced Arnold to engage in a wee bit o' espionage, which, as you might imagine, kind of led to him falling out of favour with the Yankee Doodle Dandies. Subsequently, I imagine he piqued their ire even more by leading British troops to victory against his former allies in several battles. Be that as it may, when the Brits lost the war he headed swiftly and forthwith to the safe shores of England.

The connection to our holidays is that from England the Loyal or Traitorous or both Mr Arnold ended up living in Saint John for six years beginning in 1783. He opened a store and traded with the West Indies and became a prominent if distrusted and envied citizen. Why he might be distrusted, I can't begin to think. He returned to England after his warehouse burned down.

So there's an interesting new point of view for me and some facts which I was entirely unaware of ... if you'll excuse the terminal preposition, which I am completely in favour ... of.

Yet Another Yarmouthian Experience

What do you suppose this guy was doing with that little boat and net out near Cape Forchu?



As this blurry picture shows or attempts to show, he was gathering seaweed.



It was explained to me that there is a chemical that can be extracted from this seaweed. I can't remember what it is or what it's used for, but I think it's interesting how folk will find a way to eke a living out of meagre resources.

Note: the Firefox spellchecker, which does not support non-American English as far as I know, causes me to question myself sometimes. Yes dictionary, spelling meagre with and re and not an er ending is perfectly acceptable. Sheesh!

The Carleton Martello Tower

I keep saying, "I'm done," but then I find that there's more: something like John Donne, I guess (if that doesn't register, just move on — it's not important).

On the morning that we were to catch the ferry from Saint John to Digby, we had a bit of time to spare, and since the Carleton Martello Tower was pretty well on the way, we stopped to take a few piccies. We didn't have enough time to pay and go inside, but it was a nice day and a pretty good photo op.





Here is some information from the website.

Carleton Martello Tower dates from the War of 1812 and played a pivotal role in conflicts up until the Second World War. The site features a restored powder magazine, a restored barracks room, and exhibits in the tower and in the Visitor Centre.

Carleton Martello Tower is just one of over 200 defence towers that the British built worldwide. Between 1810 and 1847, eleven Martello towers were constructed in British North America. In an age of smoothbore artillery, these towers were seen as an effective and affordable way to protect coastal areas from enemy attack.

But what makes a tower a Martello tower? Martello towers, whether in Canada, England, or Mauritius, all had certain features in common. For instance, these structures were circular in shape with a flat roof on which artillery could be mounted. The towers were accessible through a doorway in the second storey, or barrack floor. The ground floor had storage space and a gunpowder magazine. The key feature was a round, brick pillar that supported both the roof and the arched brick ceiling which, along with the thick walls, was designed to absorb artillery fire. Based on these elements, it is easy to see why Martello towers gained a reputation for strength.

Not Quite Done

I was about to post that this is indeed the final trip post, but since I just put another in the queue, I have had to come back and change the title and this intro. I know I promised that the last one was the last one, but having come this far, I figure I might as well get myself home ... or at least on the journey.

From Yarmouth we had driven to Lunenburg and then onto Halifax on the same day. The plan was to stay in Halifax for two nights: see the sights on day one and start home on day two. Before, I awoke on day one, however, I had the epiphany that it wouldn't take too very long too see the harbour or at least get a taste of it, and that I wasn't really up to a full day of traipsing and sightseeing. So, we could be on the road by early afternoon and actually get home on Saturday rather than Sunday. It seemed too appealing, so we cancelled our room, headed to the pier, and then began our homeward journey by about 1 PM.

It was difficult to leave this friendly dolphin behind. I'm sure it was a she who found me most attractive, even though that might sound fishy to you.



As we walked the pier, we saw Timothy Too the Tugboat pass by. We had purchased a TTT book for the kids back in Yarmouth, and I had no idea that it was a real tugboat.



There was a TTT store where we could even purchase a ride. There were many boat rides available and many hopeful implorers imploring us to ride their craft, but we shunned them all.



I did appreciate seeing this real container ship go by, however.



Just before leaving, I and my hips and my upset tummy sat and had a think of the 1500km/950mi trip that lay before us in the next two days. I forced a smile but wondered how I was going to make it.



Earlier we had wandered into this little mall off the pier. This is where I and my travelling quarters purchased that pricey new mug that I showed you a week or so ago.



Cuppa had a chat with our former Prime Minister whom everybody had thought to be deceased, but in point of fact he is as alive as Elvis.



She also was able to make a little purchase that day. Such things make her happy ... and that makes me happy.



Soon enough, we were on the road, that day to Grand Falls where we stayed at a highly overpriced hotel which I refuse to show you ...



... and from there, all of the way home on the next day. With many hip-friendly stops.



It was a long way to go for a week. The time spent in Yarmouth was great; a few more days there and a few less everywhere else would probably have been ideal. But one can only impose oneself on gracious hosts for so long, so I guess it all worked out well. Besides, one can only guess and expect how a trip might unfold and what might wish to see and do. We made our plans as best we could and had an experience and have a memory ... or twenty.

St John's Anglican Church

Through much of the Maritimes, you see pristine, little, white, Protestant churches. When you get to Catholic communities, cathedral-like structures become the norm. In Lunenburg, we saw a mixture of the two traditions: a white Protestant church built on a semi grand scale. The doors were open, and Cuppa is at the entrance in this picture.



Using a high ISO and a slow shutter speed, I was able to take these pictures inside. The remarkable thing was that ten years ago, this church was pretty badly gutted by fire. The restoration has been pretty remarkable. I can hardly fathom that sufficient funds could be raised in these modern times.





Th th th that's all folks. I could post a few pics of the Halifax Harbour and our trip home, but enough is enough.

Lunenburg

I had seen some neat pictures of neat buildings in Lunenburg, and I said to myself, "Neat! I want to go there." So we stopped on the way from Yarmouth to Halifax. It's true, there were lots of neat buildings, but it was just a disappointing tourist trap sort of place for me. There were lots of over-priced shops and over-priced restaurants and lots of people and cars, so that it was hard to get any neat pictures. But such as I have I leave with you.










It is a pretty town built on a steeply slanting shore which makes strolling around quite an exercise in ... er ... exercise, but a quaint, little out of the way fishing village it ain't. While Lunenburg might be the prettiest tourist town that I'll ever see, I was happy to move on after a disappointing little walkabout. Perhaps I'd have felt differently if I hadn't dropped in at the height of tourist season when everybody and her dog (literally) were also dropping in. Can't stand dem gawking tourists. Of course, my impressions were also doubtless affected by the reality that I and my stomach were not in the pink of condition by the time we made this stop.

Cape St Mary

The focal point of our second and final day (unfortunately) with Mr and Mrs Saint took us from Yarmouth to another lighthouse, Cape St Mary (or Cape St Mary's). This part of Nova Scotia and for much of the way to Digby is Acadian (ie French), and when we had driven earlier from Digby to Yarmouth, I was surprised as the shore unfolded as almost one continuous village.




There is some confusion in my mind whether it's St Mary as on this sign or St Mary's as I've seen on some maps. Maybe it's that confusion that messed up The Saints head. Cuppa and Minny don't seem perturbed by his loss: quite the opposite, it seems.



You see, he's still searching for his missing brain in this picture. I've heard of Saints losing their heads in times past but doubt they could walk about looking for it after the severing.



Cuppa in front of the somewhat rusty lighthouse. She's was holding onto her hat quite a bit that day. Talk about windy.



My favourite photo from Cap Ste-Marie (to use the other language): perhaps due to the blue sky and cirrus clouds in the background.



Cuppa and Minny braved the wind all of the way to the point.




Some images from the point.





I later took this picture of the lighthouse from a nearby beach.



And this from even farther away ...



... where we had stopped for lunch at a restaurant overlooking the sea.



We landlubbers really liked that restaurant ...



... which also seemed please our Yarmouthian hosts.



So, fie on you: overblown, touristy Peggy. We did just fine without ye.

Cape Forchu

Many thanks to the travelling quarters for helping me out yesterday. What a great bunch! As much as I appreciate them, however, it's time for them to hibernate and for AC to start writing his own blog, thank you very much.

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We didn't know it at the time, but, due to fog and rain, we were eventually going to miss visiting the famous lighthouse at Peggy's Cove. However, Saint Paul and Minny are of the opinion that there are better lighthouse sights in Nova Scotia and endeavoured to prove their point by first taking us to Cape Forchu just outside of Yarmouth.

Without seeing Old Peg, I am tempted to agree, and perhaps you will too after sharing my first glimpses of the Forchu lighthouse as we approached the upward climb to the structure.




Partway up, we stopped for another photo op. I stood staring up, trying to figure out how else to shoot the beacon while The Saint checked a picture he had just taken. There is rather a stunned look on my face as I try to take it in. That happens a lot — even when there are no lighthouses to go gaga over (with apologies to the Lady singer of said name) .



Here are the pics that I took from about that spot.





Not too shabby, eh?

This is out of sequence but is my final shot of Cape Forchu from the far shore as we later headed toward the next stop of that day's tour.



You can't help but feeling small when as you gaze upon the vast ocean, but there was definitely more to it as this pic of Cuppa and Minny attests.



Below, Cuppa and Minny look out from the point.



Part of what they saw.



Little did we know that that Saint Paul and Minny had another lighthouse visitation in store for us, but that will have to wait for another day.