Herr. Gunter, sorry, but I deleted your e-mail by mistake. Send me your details, and I will try to do better this time.
Checking out at Antigonish, the
lady at the desk recalled our last name. She had seen a segment about
out daughter, Kinley, on Dateline NBC following the Arkadelphia
Tornado of 1997. Small world!
Next stop, Peggy's Cove. Swiss Air
flight 111 had just crashed a few days before, off the coast. The sea
and air search was still going on, and relatives were at the shore,
putting flowers into the sea. All the natives nearby were standing,
hats off, heads bowed.
In Halifax, we saw the harbor
where the world's largest pre-atomic explosion occurred. Two ships
collided, and were burning. Thousands came to the harbor to watch.
One ship was totally loaded with TNT, and exploded with a blast so
big, it hurled a cannon barrel 12 miles. 2000 were killed.
The Tidal Bore was a really neat
thing. The Bay of Fundy lies between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick,
and has a funnel shape. We were near the apex of the funnel.
Partially because of the shape of the bay, and partially because of
the timing of the tides, the difference between high tide and low
tide is the greatest in the world. Up the two rivers that run in at
the apex of the bay, the effect in magnified even more. We were on
one of those rivers. When the tide came in, it was so fast a wall of
water two feet high was out in front. Many people paddled canoes far
down the river, and rode the tidal bore back up. That was really
something special to see. At harbors along the bay, fishing boats had
to go and come at high tide, or they would find themselves on the sea
floor. They had to change the departure and return time each day,
with the changing of the tides. It was not unusual to see a wharf, 50
feet above a boat lying on the bare sea floor.
Leaving Nova Scotia behind, we
traveled along the bay to St. Johns, New Brunswick. We went to a Mall
that had lifelike sculptures of ordinary people, clustered about in
different positions. Barbara just loved to station herself in a
position among them, then move and speak when somebody came by. It
sometimes scared the wits out of folks. But that's just Barbara. Get
her out where she will never see anybody she knows, and she can be a
totally different woman. St. Johns was where many Tories moved to
after the Revolutionary war. It has a reversing waterfall, where the
rising tide quickly overcomes a tall waterfall when it rolls in.
I loved to walk out on the sea
floor at low tide, with scattered pools around, just full of sea
life. Any rock turned over hides starfish, urchins, and numerous
other sea animals I didn't recognize. One has to pay close attention
to the tide, however. If one gets far out and the tide comes in, it
can quickly surround you and cut off escape. Once, I walked a quarter
of a mile or so out. When I started back, the tide was starting to
come in. It chased me all the way back.
At St. Andrews, close to the Maine
border, we booked a whale watching trip on the tall sailing ship
Cory. We only saw two whales. Just as it happened, son Corey was in
Seattle at the time, to speak at a Photographer's Convention, and
looked out to sea and saw a whale. Now, how would I say this: We saw
a whale on the east coast from the Cory, while Corey saw a whale on
the west coast. Did you follow me on that?
As it turned out, the crew of the
Cory was as interesting as the whales. The deck hand was a tall, slim
woman. Barefooted, she climbed like a cat to the top of the mast and
handled those sails and ropes like the professional she is. She
climbed all the way to the top just to take our picture. Her face was
very weather beaten, the effects of hundreds of voyages. She is an
illustrator in the winter, and in summer, she makes three trips a
day, seven days a week, May-September. The Captain built the ship
himself in New Zealand, and sailed it around the world in six years.
But those two don't even come close to being the most interesting of
the crew. “Bear” Ledger is an Acadian folklorist, a story teller,
and a musician. He tells his folklore in poem and in song. He plays
the accordion, bagpipes, and fiddle on ship, and plays eight other
instruments. He just starts doing his thing, on deck, whether anyone
is around or not. But we are all soon there, listening. His dream is
to travel to Louisiana, to visit his cousins, the Cajuns, and compare
his folklore to theirs.
We went through Passamaguoddy Bay,
through the Bay of Fundy. We passed Rosevelt's cottage, where he used
to take his mistress. A small rocky island appeared to have a snow
covering. But it was bird waste, from the thousands of birds who made
it home. The Bay of Fundy is a major Natural Reserve of Life.
Barbara was recruited as Captain,
for a time, and got to sail the ship. She asked about the life
jackets. The captain told her, “This is the North Sea. If you fall
overboard, you'll be dead in three minutes. You don't need a life
jacket.” I was recruited to haul in the Jib Sails at the end of
the trip. Now, where's the fairness in that? Barbara's steering the
ship, I'm wadding up sails. But, the Captain seemed to enjoy her
company more that mine. Can't say I blame him. Barbara's a fun girl.
A friend of mine from McCrory was
a saturation diver in the North Sea for an oil company. A french
company nearby averaged losing a diver a day, for a time. A dangerous
job, but it pays well. He was all about danger. He came to McCrory
where we lived at that time and began piloting a helicopter spraying crops. He clipped the tail
rotor off once on a power line. Without a tail rotor, a helicopter
just goes round and round in the direction the blade is turning until
it crashes. He broke his leg. The upside was, I could always beat him
at tennis while he wore a boot.
The Bay of Fundy was one of the
great natural wonders we experienced. If you ever go to Maine, go up
just a little farther and book a trip on the tall sailing ship Cory.
It's a great experience.
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