Last Days in the Maritimes

Rainy, cold and windy days with the prospect of snow might be okay for winter sports, but not for sightseeing. Also, our camper’s not really equipped for freezing temperatures. Nevertheless, we were here and still wanted to see a few sights before leaving. 

The weather held off a little when we visited Kejimkujik Seaside Park, a small adjunct to the main park, which is inland. We walked a long way to the shore along a puddly path lined with knee-high, stiff bushes so that we couldn’t avoid getting our feet wet. But the red marsh, the rocky shore and the seals basking on nearby rocks offshore were our reward.

The next day it rained, antagonistically. No more sprinkles. We went to the only open campground near Halifax (30 minutes away) and decided to visit museums. 

After seeing the museum admission prices, including the price to park, we decided not to visit museums. Instead we went to the free Province house (seat of Nova Scotia government) where a friendly security guard explained some of its history. Architecturally, the 1819 Palladian-style building is striking with intricate detail and huge portraits of British royalty in every room. 

The following day we spent several hours at the Citadel National Historic Site, a major part of Halifax’s defense during the 17 and 1800’s. 

We visited a couple sites within walking distance and  then walked along Halifax's historic waterfront. 

The rain held off long enough the next day for us to explore Lunenburg, a small, quaint town designated as a UNESCO world heritage site because of its numerous historic homes. We wore ourselves out, at least I did, walking up and down the steep streets. We did visit the Fisheries museum here (half-off during off-season) and learned, among other things, about the difficult and dangerous fishing grounds around Sable Island.

I had planned to spend one more entire day but felt that we needed to leave. There was really only one more place we had to visit on this trip, partly because it was just five miles away from where we were staying. Peggy’s Cove is a tiny fishing village of about 50 people with one of the most photographed lighthouses in Canada. Get there early, said the guidebook, because tour buses start arriving mid-day. “Ha ha,” we said. “Who’s foolish enough besides us to be here this time of year?” We didn’t have to leave the campsite until 12, so we decided to visit Peggy’s Cove first, then return to the campground, hook up the trailer and leave. It was bitter cold and so windy my earmuffs wouldn’t stay on, but the sun was out. 

When we got there, we were surprised at the number of cars in the parking lot. Nevertheless, only a few people were actually wandering around the lighthouse. Most were probably drinking something hot in the restaurant. We walked around the lighthouse and the rocks and looked at the houses nestled among and perched on top of huge granite boulders. Then it was time to leave. As we drove back to the campground, a bus full of tourists passed us, then another, then another. I counted five buses, many times the number of people that actually live there. They would completely overwhelm the place. Good thing we followed the guidebook's advice, if only by accident!

We left the campground shortly before 12 and headed to the last open campground in Nova Scotia on our way south. The only problem was that it was too close, less than 2 hours away. We’d get there before 2 pm. The weather was clear. It was a good day to drive. So, as we drove, we considered our options. I could find no open campground in New Brunswick, which we had to drive through to get to Maine. There was an open campground in Maine, but it was over 6 hours away, too far. A WalMart in Moncton, New Brunswick was three hours away. We had been there, and it was very crowded, busy and noisy. However, it was a possibility. Then I had an idea. “What about Fredericton?” I said. “It’s bigger than Moncton and would surely have a WalMart.” It was about four and a half hours away. The problem was we had never been to Fredericton and so couldn’t be sure. We stopped at a visitor’s center, and I was able to use a computer to look online for WalMarts in Fredericton. There were two. We decided to go there. We got to the first one around 6 pm. It was crowded and busy, but we found a place where we could park. 

Then we saw the signs: “No Overnight Parking”. It was kind of late to come up with another option. David was tired. The cats were tired. I was tired. “Let’s try the other WalMart,” said David. We had seen a truck stop not too far back, so that would be our fall back. The other WalMart was five miles away. When we got there, it was quiet and uncrowded. Better yet, no signs. 

We went inside and asked if we could park overnight. “Yes, of course,” said the WalMart employee. “RV’s park here every night.” So, we had our first WalMart camping experience. This WalMart closed at 10 pm. We were the only ones in the parking lot all night and the next morning. We ran the generator all night and except for (David’s) worrying that the generator would run out of gas (it didn’t), we had a peaceful night.

Camping Adventures

It’s kind of funny. I did a lot of research trying to figure out where to stay before we came, but only two things matter now: where is the campground and is it open. After September, campgrounds start closing right and left. By the end of October, you’re lucky to find any that are open. So we can’t be picky and end up in some campgrounds we might not have chosen if we had a choice, but then, that’s part of the adventure. 

I wanted to be as close as possible to Annapolis Royal, which has several historic sites and is a charming seaside town. The closest campground that was open, as far as I could tell, was 43 miles away on a neck of land extending into the Bay of Fundy. It was one of the coldest days we’ve had, lower 40’s. The wind was ferocious. “If we find another open campground on the way, we can stay there,” I said. We didn’t. 

When we finally got to the place, there was a driveway before someone’s house. “Is this it?” said David. “Yes, I think so. Look, there’s a ‘Welcome’  sign on the mailbox.” A man was standing in the driveway looking at us. He walked over as we rolled down the window, and David asked him if the campground was open. “I don’t know,” he said. “No one’s here.” “How long have you been waiting?” I asked. “30 minutes. There’s a phone number on the door, but I can’t get phone service here.” Then he started talking to us about our cats, both of whom were on my lap trying to jump out the window.

We decided to pick a site and register later when the owners returned. (They never did.) The other camper thought it was a good idea. “All they can do is ask us to leave, right?” he said. He told us he had just driven 1,000 miles from Maryland. He wanted to see some of the area. Then he got in his car and drove to the tent area where he set up a green canvas army tent. When we set up, we discovered there was no sewer hook up, which is no big deal. It just means you have to be conscious not to overfill your tanks. Also there was no 30 amp power, just 20 amp power and no breaker. What they did was run extension cords underground to each of the six sites with power. This was the second campground in a row like this. After we set up and had lunch, I went to the front door of the house. On it was a note saying to self-register in the “museum/social room” at the back of the house. I walked to the back of the house and opened a door that led down to the basement of the house. It was full of used beer and wine bottles, maritime paraphernalia, photo albums and a variety of other stuff. I found the envelope and information sheet requesting we pay $30 for the campsite and deposit it (through the slot) in the locked box, which I did later. There was also an old couch, a TV, some videotapes and hot water, tea and nescafe. And it was warm. After I left, I went over to the tent area to let the man from Maryland know what I had discovered. “Are you there?” I asked, directing my question at the tent. “Yes,” came a gruff voice. I told the voice about the “social room” and coffee and tea. Realizing I had woken him up, I felt bad, but later that evening and the next morning we saw him walking back and forth from the basement with a cup in his hand, so I was glad I told him. 

By this time it was about 3:00. “Do you want to go to Annapolis Royal now?” I asked David. “Not really.” Actually, it was on the way to our next stop, Kejimkujik National Park, so we decided it didn’t make sense to drive there and back. We could just stop on our way to the park. Instead we drove to a nearby wharf and then to a ferry dock. We watched cars drive off and onto the ferry, which takes 10 minutes to cross to an island. It was bitter cold and windy that night. It sounded like it was blowing a gale. The trailer was being buffeted by the wind. I felt like I was on the boat again. Sometime during the night we lost power. It got very cold, and David said we’d have to leave at dawn, but by morning the power was back on. (We do have propane heat, but rely mainly on a small electric heater so we don't run out of propane.)

The next day we pulled the trailer to downtown Annapolis Royal, got a perfect parking place in front of the cemetery beside Fort Anne National Historic Site and spent the next few hours sightseeing before continuing on to the national park. Annapolis Royal was one of my favorite places.

We got to the national park after 5:00. No one was there to register us, so we picked up a self-registration envelope and then chose a campsite. The campground had electric (30-amp) power only, no water and no sewer. In the morning, we took the trailer to the dump station where there is also water for filling the fresh water tank. The water had been turned off. David said we had to leave. “We can’t operate without water.” We went back to the campsite to pick up the chair we had left to keep our spot (not that it mattered, there were so few other campers.) A man was walking down the road. David asked him if water was available. 
He said one of the washrooms still had water turned on, and he thought we could fill up there. He had filled his tank using a 5-gallon jug. We drove to the washroom. “I can’t get the trailer close enough,” said David. “The hoses aren’t long enough.” Also, we found out that the water spigot wasn’t threaded, so it wouldn’t work anyway. We pondered our options. Then the man we had talked to earlier walked up carrying a 5-gallon jug. He offered to help us fill our tank. We ended up cutting up a large lemon juice container to use as a funnel and the man, who was from Nova Scotia, filled and carried the 40-lb water jug about 4 times to fill our tank. He was a big guy in his 30’s who drove a tractor-trailer and said he was used to carrying 50-lb bags of produce in each arm. 

Later that day when we went to the visitor’s center, we found out that we could fill our tank there, so that is what we did the following day when we left. Meanwhile, the wind had died down from the previous day and the temperature got up to 50, perfect for hiking. We hiked on several trails until dark. One led to a series of waterfalls. Another led us to an old-growth stand of hemlock trees. Another great day.

Tramping through the Woods in Nova Scotia and Other Highlights

Everywhere we go in Nova Scotia the scenery is stunning, especially now with a full spectrum of fall colors plastering the forests and hills and lining rivers and lakes. There are also large stretches of pastureland and farmland with picture-perfect grey and red barns, appropriately aged. 

The marshes along the shore are equally picturesque. Usually we’re in the truck whizzing by all these photo-worthy scenes. It is a feast for the eyes. When the weather is conducive, we try to go on a hike. 

One day we wanted to see a tidal bore. This happens on a river that drains into a body of water that has exceptionally high tides, in this case, the Bay of Fundy. Twice daily, the tidal water is pushed into a narrower and narrower opening until it forms a wave that rushes and gushes up the river, against the normal flow of the river.  On this day it was at noon. By the time we left the campground, it was 10:30, so we had just enough time to squeeze in a quick hike.

We drove about 20 minutes to “the dirt road with ATV tracks before you get to the motel” as explained by the campground owner. “It’s only a short walk to a waterfall,” she said. We found the unnamed “road”, parked, walked a little ways into the woods and encountered a river bridged by a precarious assortment of boards, logs and twigs. “That’s it,” said David, “let’s go back.” “Not yet,” I said and proceeded to try crossing it. David waited for me to fall in. When I didn’t, he followed. We walked a few minutes without finding the waterfall. “We’re out of time,” said David. “It’s 11:30.” 

So we turned around and raced back in time to see the tidal bore, which was pretty interesting, considering one minute you’re looking at a mud flat and a couple minutes later it’s flooded. 

Then we drove to another location to hike the “Rogart Mountain” trail. The trail followed a bubbling brook through a forest of maple trees, whose leaves had turned lime green, yellow and orange providing a striking backdrop for the dark green ferns carpeting the forest floor. Then we started to climb and climb. 

We climbed up to 1125 feet where the maple trees were stunted. In the distance we could see the ocean and windmills on a crest. Then we descended. Suddenly and unexpectedly we came upon a delightful waterfall called “Jane’s Falls.” 

Unfortunately, about an hour into the hike, David’s knee “popped”, and he almost passed out from the pain. His leg had been hurting him all week, and he thinks maybe something popped back into place or maybe it was a pulled muscle. At any rate, the last hour and a half of the 4-mile hike was painful for him. He’s doing better and thinks the problem has to do with all the driving we’ve been doing, but we won’t be hiking any trails with the word “mountain” in them for awhile.  

We’ve done other things besides driving and hiking, especially on rainy days. The rain usually doesn’t stay around long, or as David puts it, “It doesn’t rain here. It antagonistically sprinkles.” Here are a few highlights:

Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site - Bell made a lot of money with his telephone invention. He used the money to fund other endeavors, including a hydrofoil boat that was the fastest boat in the world in 1919. He had a summer home in Nova Scotia. We spent several hours learning about his life and work in this fascinating museum.

Glennora Distillery - Me: “David, do you want to go on a scenic drive and visit a provincial park or go on a tour of a distillery?” 

David: “Uh, I vote for the distillery.” Actually, it was a scenic drive on the way to the distillery. The single malt whisky distillery, the only one in North America, isn’t much to look at, just a couple rooms with some copper pot stills, but the tour was great, thanks to the tour guide who had the knack of being both informative and interesting. We tasted their 10-year-old $80 variety. (They don’t offer tastes of their 20-year-old $350 variety.) Me: “How do you like it?” David: “It’s good!”

Miners’ Museum in Cape Breton - until the 1960’s, coal mining was big industry in Cape Breton. The museum was good but more interesting was having a retired miner take us down into a 4-foot-high coal mine where he told us about mining first-hand as we hunched over. The walls were black as coal. Actually, they were coal!

Fortress of Louisburg National Historic Site - this was the site of a French fortified town in the 1700’s that had been in ruins until the Canadian government decided to put out-of-work coal miners to work reconstructing it. It’s massive but still only a small part of the original town. During the summer, costumed interpreters recreate life in the 1800’s. When we were there, it was more like a ghost town with only a few hardy (shivering) tourists wandering about. Even still, it was evocative and intriguing, and park employees were around to answer questions. 

Fickle Weather and the Dancing Boy

I was disappointed that we hadn’t heard any traditional music yet, so when we got to our campground in Cheticamp, and I heard that a fiddler was playing at a local restaurant that evening, I was thrilled. “Shall I make a reservation for you?” asked the campground manager. “Yes,” I said enthusiastically. He made it for 6.

After we set up the trailer and had lunch, we immediately headed to the Cape Breton Highlands National Park Visitor’s Center. I didn’t want to waste any sunshine. I asked the ranger to recommend the best hikes. She said Skyline was the most popular trail. She said it would take about two hours, and we would see spectacular views of the ocean as well as whales and moose. “I’m so glad it’s sunny,” I said. “And tomorrow will be sunny too!” She looked at me surprised and said, “The forecast is for rain tomorrow!” I didn’t believe her. She showed me her printout. There it was in black and white. We had time to go on the hike, which was about 20 minutes away, before our dinner reservation. 

When we got there, there were quite a few cars in the parking area. In fact, other than Green Gables, this park was the first place we encountered a fair number of people, although it wasn’t really crowded. The sun was shining, but it was very cold. I donned earmuffs, hat, mittens, gloves and coat. D was less equipped. We started walking. There were a lot of dead trees. Evidently, budworm had killed them, and the moose are eating the young saplings, so the forest is still trying to recover. 

After about an hour of walking, we came to a boardwalk that descended a long way down the side of the mountain. You could see the winding road on the mountain, the steep cliffs and a majestic sweep of the  ocean. We didn’t see whales or any moose, but it was worth it. 

By the time we finished the 4.7 mile hike, it was 5:30, so we headed directly to the restaurant. From the outside it looked pretty small--a box painted bright yellow. Inside it was still pretty small but big enough to hold 30 or so people. It was crowded, but we had a small table right up front. The musicians arrived around 6:30. One played the violin and stomped his legs. His accompaniment played the piano. They played traditional Cape Breton music, which is an amalgam of Irish, Gaelic and Acadian. We enjoyed it immensely. Then, about 7:15, almost everyone left to go to a nearby concert. “I forgot there was a concert tonight,” said Mike, the fiddler. “I would have come another day.” We were glad he hadn’t. 

A little while later a family arrived--parents, grandparents and two young boys. There was a little buzz. “It’s Christopher,” said Mike. “He’s an amazing dancer.” And sure enough, after Mike played a couple more songs, 9-year-old Christopher got up, stood in front of Mike and started step dancing while the musicians played. Then he sat down and ate his dinner. A little while later, after he had finished eating, he got up and danced to another song. Awesome. 

The next day, even though I had trusted the weather forecast and had rearranged our schedule so we could be in the park when it was sunny, it rained. 

The park is part of a 185-mile scenic loop in Cape Breton called the Cabot Trail. We decided to do the part of the loop that ran through the park anyway. "It wasn't supposed to rain today," I said. "We should have stuck with my original plan and come a few days later." 
We started driving the hilly, serpentine road. It was cloudy and misty, but you could still get scenic views of the coastline under the clouds. We stopped at a few observation points and then took a short walk in the rain through a maple tree forest to see a traditional Scottish hut. By the time we got to our endpoint a few hours later and turned around, the sun had come out. Fall colors were in full force, but on the eastern side of the park facing the Atlantic ocean, they were particularly striking with more reds and oranges than on the western side. 
The sun lit up the colorful leaves and shone brightly on the ocean. All we needed were a couple of moose to complete the day, and on the drive back we saw two, standing by the side of the road. 
We took another short hike before the sun set and got back around 6. It rained that night and was windy and raw, the coldest night yet, but in the morning, the sun returned, so we decided to stay another day and go on some of the hikes we had missed the previous day. One led to a small waterfall. The Bog was a long boardwalk that wound its way through a sloped fen. Another trail ascended a ridge where plaques told the history of the Acadian families who had lived there. Their descendants still live in Cheticamp, and most residents speak both French and English. 
We had a picnic on a beach where you could still see the remnants of an old stone wharf. Green Cove was a short walk out onto a pink granite headland. The rocks shimmered with crystals and mica. 
"I'm so glad we decided to come to the park when we did," I said. "It's so much better with the sun shining." Tomorrow, it’s supposed to rain. We'll see.

Rain and the Sunrise Trail

Portable steam engine

It’s been pretty cold here in Nova Scotia--high 40’s to low 50’s. Rainy too. The day after we got here, the weather was looking ominous, so we decided to visit the Museum of Industry, which traces the history and evolution of power and industry in Nova Scotia. It was pretty interesting except that there were a couple “guides” who followed us around to each display and talked to us about it, unsolicited. David finally had to tell one guy that he preferred to read the information himself. 

Hector

Then we went to Pictou, which is a cute coastal town but was totally closed up for the season. We followed the red lobsters stamped in the road to the closed Fisheries Museum and looked in the window. We did get a good look at the replica of Hector, the ship that brought the first 200 Scottish immigrants to Nova Scotia in 1773.

The following day we followed the “Sunrise Trail” along the northern coast. We drove past large tracts of woods, green pastures with cows and horses grazing and great vistas of the Northumberland Strait as we climbed up and down the hilly, curvy road. We took a few short hikes and visited a couple lighthouses. The wind was howling, and it was quite dramatic to watch the waves crashing on the rocks in front of one lighthouse and on the jetty protecting a few boats. 

Then we followed the trail in the Arisaig Provincial Park to the ocean to look for fossils embedded in sedimentary rock. We didn’t find any fossils, but the foam kicked up by a raging surf was impressive. Also, the explanatory plaques, as usual, were excellent and explained the geology of the area. We drove along a country road past farm fields to the fish hatchery, which raises over a million trout and salmon every year to stock the province’s rivers and streams. It was closed. 

Last we stopped at another provincial park and walked the boardwalk over a marsh to the beach. Back at the trailer I cooked a turkey breast (one small enough to fit in our oven) and some of the trimmings to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving on October 11th. (It was a good excuse to get away from the “same old” we’d been having.) The cranberries were from Nova Scotia and made excellent cranberry sauce. Even David agreed, and he doesn’t usually eat it!

The weather forecast was sunny for the next two days, then rain. I decided to rearrange the itinerary and head straight for Cape Breton Highlands National Park the next day because there was no point being there in the rain.

The Cats

Neptune wants to go outside. Occasionally, we take him out in his harness. He just loves it. He tries to chase birds and chipmunks but can only run as far as his leash. I try to run with him, but he’s faster than I. Sometimes he’ll just keep walking farther and farther away from the trailer. When I’m ready to go back, I have to carry him, whining and squirming. 

Plato thinks he wants to go outside. When Neptune goes out, Plato’s yowling at the door. When I open the door for him to go out, he looks around, sniffs, then tentatively puts his front legs on the first step. He sniffs, looks around, looks at me, sniffs, then moves his hind legs to the first step. Then he looks back to make sure the door is still open. It takes him five minutes to get to the ground. Usually by then I’ve had enough and back in he goes. Sometimes we pick him up and put him down a short ways from the trailer. He freezes, terrified.