Nova Scotia

     Entering Nova Scotia, we traveled to Antigonish, a Scottish town. We unloaded the car and went for a drive. Along the south coast, we could see out over hundreds of miles of open ocean, which allowed the wind to drive huge waves into the rocky shore, all producing a loud booming sound, with water thrown up very high. We were very impressed with this, and took photo after photo. But when the photos came back, it was just water splashing on rocks. The majesty was all gone. You've just got to see it to appreciate it.

     There were no beautiful farms along this coast. Just small, shabby fishermen's houses. We will travel a loop around the north Cape tomorrow. Leaving and returning in the darkness.

     Thursday, September 10 found  us seeing one amazing, beautiful scene after another. Traveling along the north shoreline, we saw very blue sea, rocky coastlines, pounding surf, and magnificent mountains that just dropped suddenly into the sea. One of the world's most beautiful scenic drives. Each new scene became more beautiful than the last, something we had thought impossible.''

     Cutting across the mountains near the end of the island, carnivorous Pitcher Plants were growing everywhere in mountain bogs. These plants do not get enough nourishment from the bogs they thrive in, and any insect that strays into the inside of the pitcher is held fast by a sweet, sticky substance, and absorbed.

     Returning again to sea level, we came upon a very beautiful cove, and stopped for lunch. There we ate one of our most memorable meals. Not that peanut butter sandwiches were particularly memorable to us by now, but the beach and surf contained thousands of round rocks, softball size. The surf just rolled them all in, accompanied by a loud roaring noise, and then they rolled back out again. Over and over. The setting was capped off by a magnificent waterfall. My words just can't do justice to this little place in the world. If God ever decides to add a new wing to Heaven, he could do well to travel the Cabot trail first, just to refresh his memory.

     Checking out at Antigonish, the lady at the desk recognized us, recalling our names. 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, full speed, which, I must admit, was not all that fast.

     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, carrying our camera, 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, or so we were told.  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 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.