Leaving Home

Today I'm once again taking the opportunity to capitalize on High-Speed Wi-Fi available inside my RV.  I'm 'camped' at Scotia Pines Campground near Truro, Nova Scotia heading West.  A glance at Toronto Weather makes me wonder at the wisdom of going further with any great haste.  Imagine my surprise upon discovering while I was engaged in accessing the Web at my last Wi-Fi site that the blighters turned off their internet service at 7:00 PM!  Hubbard's Campground is pleasant enough but its main attraction is Hubbard's Beach pictures of which I'll post when time allows.  Alas the season for swimming is past.  At present I'm parked with the proviso that I go register when the office opens between 7 and 8 PM.  The campground may be open but operations are definitely slowed down.  At present I've just accomplished the pumping of my 'black' and 'grey' water tanks, scrubbed my hands, and put up a batch of scalloped potatoes which are baking in my convection oven—one in a series of my continuing experiments with a new mode of baking. 

 

My time at Hubbard's was an opportunity to catch up and mark time while I waited to return to Bridgewater to visit Bluenose RV and have them do some work for me.  After they'd finished their work for me and I'd gotten some advice on solar panels I returned to visit my Aunt for another day of reminiscence.  We covered 2 centuries and half Lunenburg County and we didn't even get worn out.  Wednesday, September 24^th I camped at Oakhill Pines—a campground that had a definite reputation going in.  I was promptly greeted with respect and care and got a site with no difficulties—they weren't exactly bursting at the seams.  The roadways through this campground are narrow, rough, and hemmed in by trees.  The location is at least peaceful and surrounded by towering trees.  Their centralized Wi-Fi was glacially slow but was available until I was forced to move to my campsite and hook up. 

 

Thursday morning I geared up early and drove back up to Halifax.  That evening we celebrated my Brother-in-Law's Birthday.  The next day he, my sister and I took one of their canoes to a local lake to pick wild cranberries on an island.  The expedition was as much for the trip itself as anything else but we managed to pick 20 pounds of berries as well.  That evening while my sister set up for church garage sale we went shopping.  Saturday Morning, the sale and while Haligonians grabbed bargoons Richard and I went for hike in Point Pleasant Park.  We stayed dry.  After meeting and greeting at the sale I took my hosts to Your Father's Moustache for lunch.  Unfortunately the place was loud and busy and the portion of fries that came with my dinner was in a word skimpy.  Oh well, it was good the last time we visited.  Sunday morning we churched—a meagre turnout I'd say and a dozen or so people sat down for pot luck lunch.  Since the storm delayed its arrival we went for an afternoon hike on the Bedford Trail:

 

http://www.evolutiontechnologies.ca/sra/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=17&Itemid=37

 

Quite a feat but not exactly a natural area with a rifle range, several highways, and a city surrounding it. 

 

Last night I weathered Hurricane Kyle and this morning I took off for parts unknown.  My scalloped potatoes are almost done and it's almost time to go pay for my campsite.  I can only hope the traffic from Hwy 2 and 102 and the train whistles from freights on the mainline out of Nova Scotia are not too bothersome.  These features are not prominent in the site description. 

 

 

 

 

 

           

           

At Long Last WiFi in the Privacy of my RV

Finally the luxury of browsing in the privacy of my own home. Have you ever sat down to apply captions to 190 pictures at one sitting? Yes, it took considerable time. At least I can be thankful that my browser didn't crash during the process and I didn't lose all my efforts. It took even longer to upload all those pictures. If this works here's an embedded link to that collection:

Bluenose Wanderer

Otherwise here's a shortcut to that page:

http://community.webshots.com/user/garthmailman

I am camped at Hubbard's Beach Campground which straddles Lunenburg and Halifax Counties in Nova Scotia. Yesterday I left Thomas Raddall Provincial park just after daylight and drove up to Liverpool and then on to Bridgewater taking advantage of the lack of crosswinds to make a quick trip of it on the 103. At Bridgewater stopped to get my propane topped up at Bluenose RV—running my furnace burns up the fuel. Then stopped to spend more time with my Aunt Muriel. Drove up to Hubbard's Beach later in the afternoon. After checking my E-mail lost my appetite when I heard news of the sewage leak that besets the junk stored in my underground locker. Sometimes not knowing is better. Not much I can do personally over 1000 miles away in another time zone. One more cold night ahead and then we'll get a warming trend.

Today is sunny and cool but I'm spending my day catching up on matters in the world at large, reading E-mail, browsing, and generally catching up online.

Thomas Raddall Provincial Park

I spent three days at this provincial park. Named after the benefactor who made it possible the park is remote from everything but Joli Bay. It was the Bay that provided transportation to the United Empire Loyalists who first inhabited this area. In a move that is unique for provincial parks the home the MacDonald Family lived in is still preserved though it is hard to believe that up to fifteen people lived in it at one time.

The park has an extensive network of well-maintained dirt roads and utility trails. Given the distances involved in getting anywhere including the beach using a bicycle makes sense. For a wilderness type park there are some startling modern conveniences. Water taps are strategically located throughout the park and a 'comfort station' to which my camp site has its own private shortcut boasts shower stalls, flush toilets, hot air dryers, hot and cold water and even urinals on the men's side. Outside it are two Pepsi Machines.

The campsites are sufficiently spaced to afford privacy and many are large enough to look like playing fields. Whoever built them obviously camped as all are level and provide space to park a vehicle, place for a tent and a separate area for the picnic table. Don't believe I'd want to be in Site 10 with the swamp behind it though. The newest loop is in an area that was logged and has yet to fully regenerate. Lacking mature trees it would seem to me it could get quite hot when the sun lays in and in damp weather could get quite buggy due to the swampy nature of the terrain.

There are extensive beach areas surrounded by rocky outcroppings but at low tide eel grass makes it inadvisable to attempt swimming. Everywhere one is reminded that the last ice age started retreating here and left behind the evidence of its passing in the form of giant erratic boulders which sit at odd angles where the retreating ice dropped them. One glance at the gravely soil makes it plain why the loyalists who settled in the southern section of Nova Scotia found it impossible to make a go of it farming. It is testimony to the dampness of this past season that mushrooms abound everywhere and first year fir trees are growing like weeds in every open space.

Although this park has the government mandated wheel-chair accessible facilities I wouldn't say that this is a park that was meant for those so handicapped. The very spacious nature of the park means that getting anywhere involves a major trek. The park's hiking trails could do with some more extensive marking and the much photocopied map fails to integrate the trails into the campground layout. A park naturalist could spend a summer preparing detailed interpretive descriptions of the many features viewable along these trails and serve to make the hike much more enjoyable. In particular aides to the identification of the spring ephemerals in the wooded areas and animal and bird tracks at the shore would be helpful. More work could be done to aide in the identification of birds and a viewing scope at the camper's beach would aide those wishing to have a closer look at the harbour seals that are permanent and in the fall mating season noisy neighbours.

Rounding the South of Nova Scotia

Friday, September 19, 2008

Got off this morning in time to beat the school buses. Getting caught behind one on its collection run on a winding road is deadly. Found my way to Yarmouth’s Tourist Bureau after running the gauntlet that is Main St. The tourist information centre is new complete with port hole windows, lighthouses and a terrarium in the Men’s. They also have Wi-Fi. The MV Bluenose is no more but just down the way is the dock for the new CAT. The Nova Scotia Shoppe sells Grand Pre Wine and Hatmetack Wineries’ Blueberry Wine. Stopped at the Social Centre Parking Lot in Eel Brook to make brunch. Climbed their fire escape to take pictures.

The old Hwy 3 which I followed is a hilly, occasionally rough, winding piece of highway but rewards the intrepid traveller with sporadic vistas of the sea and bays which are its lifeblood. Hwy 103 is straight but passes through rocks and trees. Stopped at Barrington Passage to walk the government wharf and admire the fishing fleet moored there and look across to Sable Island and the Wind Farm sitting idle there.

My destination was Thomas Raddall Provincial Park and I found the signs along the highway without difficulties. After a winding paved road a sign warned of a speed limit of 30 K/h and a 3 kilometer drive to the administration office. That’s a long trip along a bush road through potholes and dust. Makes the gate keeper a welcome sight. As usual I got excellent advice on picking a camp site and although I drove straight in and parked on the level I was unable to find that exact same sweet spot once I backed in. When I went for a walk to the beach I heard what seemed like rather raucous teens wailing away at the shore. When I finally got there snickering at the park bench located at the halfway point I discovered that the noise was probably from teenagers but these weighed in at a quarter-ton each and sported blubber and flippers. The harbour seals were pulled out on a sandbar and making their style of amorous courtship. At low tide the ‘beach’ is a morass of eel grass. A walk along the beach later in the evening found the seals still at ‘it.’ A pair of loons was calling in the distance.

Settling into the RV Lifestyle

Which state has the most turkeys?

More turkeys are raised in California than in any other state in the United States.

Well, of course! It is the home of Ronald Reagan and Arnold.

Why is gas 22¢/L cheaper in Ontario than it is at the moment in Nova Scotia? Luckily for me I don't have to fill up for a while yet.

As I sit here with rice baking in my convection oven I'm contemplating the making of some Cheese-Bacon Muffins. I have all the ingredients and plan to take advantage of an electrical hook-up while I still have it. Hence I'm baking rice rather than cooking it. Also serves to warm my home, a temperate in the negative range is predicted tonight. Before dark I plan to pump out my holding tanks and I've filled my interior fresh-water tank only against the colder temperatures.

This morning dawned cool, grey, and with a scattering of blown showers. It seemed a good day to work on reducing the burden in my E-mail Inbox and then drive over to Grosses-Coques and try out Chez Christophe, a local restaurant one of my fellow campers recommends highly. Despite the rustic-looking surroundings the food was superbe! I had the daily special seafood lasagne with Caesar Salad and soft roll plus blueberry crisp and ice cream for dessert with coffee. In this territory who would want Chicken Parmesan. Spent some time relaxing after lunch and by the time I got active again the sun had come out.

Took advantage of the sun to go for a walk along the beach then came home to finish making supper and bake my muffins. I should be reading to justify the gas I've burnt lugging a library around with me. That evening the wind came up and its gusts rocked my RV like a boat at sea. Then the wind died down and the cold set in.

The Caveats of RV Travel

Thou shalt be neat. Modern caravans having more than one horsepower anything lacking a seatbelt is liable to move at the first curve or sudden stop.

Thou shalt watch thy head. Or wear a hard hat. I can stand upright in my RV but overhead bins and heat pumps provide ready hazards. And as with air travel items in overhead bins may have moved during travel.

Thou shalt watch thy levels. Fresh water tanks hold a finite amount of water, fully loaded that water weighs half a ton. Same applies for the holding tanks at the other end. If not hooked up to a thirty amp service the batteries slowly drain. The generator will quickly recharge them but it runs on the top three quarters of the gas tank less thou strand thyself. Remember that half ton of water. Liquid Propane Gas runs the fridge, the furnace and the twin stove burners—don't run out.

Thou shalt not be claustrophobic. I have a lavatory that closes, barely, when I'm seated on the facilities. There is no room to fall over. My RV only looks spacious in the promotional pictures.

Thy privacy comes with a price. Eight, count 'em, curtains and 3 window inserts.

Thou shalt use thy ceiling fan when cooking. The smoke alarm is three feet from the two propane burners. I am well aware that it works.

Thou shalt use warm bed clothes. Only the profoundly deaf could sleep through the noise the furnace makes if it comes on at night.

Thy Motorhome shalt be level. Sleeping with your head below your feet is not a good idea and the refrigerator requires a level environment to work properly.

Thou shalt turn off anything not in use. Remember those battery levels.

Thou shalt secure those doors and drawers. Remember caveat number one.

Thou shalt walk thy campsite before setting thy caravan in motion. V-8 motors are not troubled by overhead antenni, water hoses, and electrical cords. The things people leave behind them—even family members! Run that tap before undoing that hose lest that shower be unintentional. Uncouple thy power with dry hands—30 amps is a lot of juice.

Heaven is Wi-Fi that works at thy campsite.

Crossing Nova Scotia to the Bay of Fundy

It is a sad commentary on the state of the fishing industry that Lunenburg is no longer an assault on the olfactory senses at low tide. After two days, though, one can tire of fog, mist, and fog horns. No word on who won the dory races—in my day the Hiesler Brothers regularly had that locked up. In any case Monday morning I packed up shop and headed for Bridgewater the long way round through Maders Cove and Mahone Bay. A sunlit Mahone Bay is much more inviting. Slowly but surely I made my way across the wooded backbone of Nova Scotia crossing the North Mountain into sunshine. Arrived at Belle Baie Campground in Church Point on the Bay of Fundy after fighting a significant headwind all the way down the valley.

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Church Point is in the centre of the Acadian Shore of Nova Scotia. Nearby are two significant churches: Saint Bernard constructed over a period of 32 years of stone quarried in Queens County and Sainte Marie which boasts the tallest wooden church tower in North America at 185 feet. Saint Bernards was still under construction when my mother taught school at Bear River in the 30's.

I camped with her at Church Point in a rented motor home some 20 years ago. I enjoyed the experience so much I had to come back again. In particular they have the best tasting water here I've enjoyed since leaving home.

Just took a break to go out and photograph the sun setting over Long Island. The secret of sunset shots is never to place the sun in the centre of your shot.

As the pictures show the air is dead calm tonight and I had to come in when the black flies became voracious.

Decided to get adventurous and try out my new convection oven by making muffins. Actually figured out how to make the oven work without the aid of the owner's manual. Of course the recipe was improvised and it was my first time with a convection oven but the results weren't bad.

Historic Lunenburg

Lunenburg is a modern city hidden inside a 250-year-old working fishing village. I have no pictures as every time I got out my camera it clouded over and the mist started flying. That too, is fairly normal. Walking the slanted streets of Lunenburg your eyes are caught by the brilliant contrasting colours the buildings are painted. Unless you look closely you could easily forget that inside these brightly coloured exteriors are modern conveniences and twenty-first century enterprises.

Bowing to modern regulations the historic Lunenburg Academy which is still in use as a teaching facility does not utilize its top floors as installing the required fire escapes would destroy its façade. Living with history is not without its costs it would seem. Hidden among all the artworks produced by the most modern of techniques are the bric a brac of centuries. The Yacht Shop has the most up to date navigational maps available and rope in all sizes, styles and materials imaginable. They also sold me the brass coat hook I was looking for. At Zion Evanagelical Lutheran Church where I worshiped the female pastor's voice is projected by a sound system that could grace any modern stage but from a rafter hangs the bell pillaged from the Fortress of Louisbourg and in the bell tower hangs a carillon whose peals rang through the town earlier in the day which was probably financed on the avails of rum-running. In a colourful exterior I found Foodland and there a bottle of Solomon Gundy and a container of Tancook Turnip Kraut. Add potato salad and you have my supper.

Looney in Lunenburg

Sunday, September 14, 2008

06:50 AM

Where We Went Wrong

The old Sioux chief sat in his reservation hut, smoking the ceremonial pipe, eyeing the two US government officials sent to interview him.

"Chief Two Eagles," one official began, "you have observed the white man for many generations, you have seen his wars and his products, you have seen all his progress, and all his problems."

The chief nodded. The official continued, "Considering recent events in New York, in your opinion, where has the white man gone wrong?"

The chief stared at the government officials and continued smoking his pipe for over a minute, and then calmly replied: "When white man found this land, Indians were running it. No taxes. No debt. No house payments. No Daycare. Plenty buffalo. Women did all the cooking. Medicine man free. Indian men hunted and fished all the time."

The chief smiled, and added quietly, "White man dumb enough to think he could improve a system like that.

Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong.

George Carlin (1937 - 2008)

There doesn't seem to be much point in opening my curtains this morning; everything outside is lost in fog. At least the fog horn didn't keep me awake all night. I have always been impressed with the number of features built into my RV and the efficient use of storage space. Slowly I'm getting the hang of how to use its many gadgets. Yesterday I managed to set up the awning and attach it to the anchors on the side of the vehicle. I also managed to figure out what buttons to push to make my TV capture a signal from the antenna. In Lunenburg that's one channel—CBC. No one, however would call my new home commodious. Nearby this weekend is a vehicle that could. For a short while I was parked beside a 40 foot bus-style million dollar motor home. Underneath it boasts a dozen storage bays and up top are four massive pop-out extensions. With one of those babies there's no backing up and going forward onto planks—push a button and the hydraulics auto-levels. There's no point in penis envy—it's way out of my league. At least I don't have to put fuel in the tank. Speaking of which gasoline just took an 11¢ spike in cost. With an election in the offing you'd think those politicians would do something about that.

Getting Some Salt in my Veins

September 14^th

Several sources having warned me off staying at Oakhill Pines which is feet from my Aunt Muriels I drove miles along a winding scenic road almost to Lunenburg to camp two nights at a very basic hole in the wall called Little Lake. Chief among their deficiencies for me was the failure of their promised WiFi. Their sewage pump out station forces one to park on an angle to use it which does not allow for efficient voiding of the tanks. Life can get mundane!

After the second day drove to Bridgewater and finally found Bluenose RV. The guy who runs it is a distant cousin! Turns out my propane tank was not properly installed and needed adjustments to allow for a refill. The manager contacted Roadtrek and got permission to correct the issue at their expense and agreed to bill them directly. He also ordered parts for a few other little problems I am having. The upshot, however, was that a five minute fill-up took two and one-half hours. Leaving there I headed for King St and Victoria Rd and discovered an Internet Café offering 15 MB WiFi Internet for $2.00 a day plus tax. That's where I caught up on the world and published my last blog updates. Just before I left I opened 15 days' worth of comics for later reading.

Upon departing Bridgewater I took the Highway past Hebbville Academy the site of my High School days. The old building is gone apparently. Trusted my GPS to get me to Rissers Beach and it took me on a wild ride through backroads the shorted route to Petite Riviere. Just before I got there I was driving on what was essentially a one-lane woods road hemmed in by trees on both sides. Luckily no one else was crazy enough to be driving it. At Rissers Beach Provincial Park I was recommended a perfect site among tall firs backing onto the beach.

I suppose I must be getting soft but high winds, crashing waves, and cool temperatures made swimming untenable. I did spend hours walking the shoreline, taking photographs, and meditating upon the sound of the waves lulling me to rest.

Heaven on earth save that I'd imagined Heaven to be slightly warmer and less windy. I was thankful for the opportunity to run my onboard furnace. Alas the area I was camped in was booked for the weekend.

Took my own counsel on getting back to Bridgewater and packed up early Saturday Morning and headed out just after dawn stopping at Crescent Beach to have breakfast on the road. Arrived at the much vaunted Lahave Bakery an hour before it opened and chose to keep driving. Stopped at a picnic site opposite the old railway wharf in Bridgewater where a navy ship was anchored. Alas the railway is gone these days. Crossed the Old Bridge and took the road to Lunenburg.

Went into Sobeys in Lunenburg for some groceries and found Tancook Sauerkraut but not Turnipkraut. They still sell cod cheeks and tongues! No, I wasn't moved to buy any! They also sell small barrels of Solomon Gundy. Followed the signs to the Lunenburg Tourist Office and found a place to camp overlooking the Back Harbour. I suppose I can't hold the Lunenburg Board of Trade responsible for the steady mist that fell all day. After getting levelled I walked up to their office to sit and connect electronically with the outside world. Their Wifi only works if you are in or close to their office and is only 10% of the speed of that café in Bridgewater. Faster, mind you, than my connection in Oakville but plodding by comparison. Next campground I hope for high-speed wireless I can access from the privacy of my own RV.

After cooking a pot of potatoes and making potato salad I was finally ready for a walk around town. Lunenburg is built on a hill that slopes at a 45º angle. Buildings have sloping exteriors but some of them have clung there for over 250 years. I was surprised at the number of places still open on a Saturday night. Having just had a satisfying supper I did not stop anywhere though a festival with tent was taking place on the waterfront below and a flautist was playing to a meagre house at a local restaurant. Returned and walked up to recheck the web before settling in for the night with some reading.

Tomorrow, Sunday, I want to check out the restoration of St John's Anglican Church and attend church there or at Zion Lutheran. For once I may actually look for a place to have lunch in town. Sunday afternoon marks the annual service of remembrance for members of the Lunenburg Fishing Fleet. This is one of those rare years when there is a Service of Thanksgiving because no one was lost. This service is traditionally broadcast live on the local radio station and music is provided by a brass band. It will be followed by the annual blessing of the fleet. There is also a concert in the bandstand. Twould be nice if the weather was more cooperative!

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Hello From Prrince Edward Island

September 4^th

Made it to Prince Edward Island after an uneventful drive in heavy fog along the Saint Lawrence through the Eastern Townships of Quebec. The drive south to the New Brunswick Border was as hilly as remembered but it was a pleasant surprise to find Highway 2 from the NB border completely finished as a four-lane divided highway. Despite impressive earthworks filling in notorious swamps and spectacular rock cuts there are still some pretty grinding hills to climb. I paused to rest and have supper at the Lions Club Garden in Upper Gagetown New Brunswick.

In Quebec I still live in the expectation of some car removing my front bumper when they pass and pull back in traffic so close I can't see the backs of their vehicles through my windshield. At least the price of gas has reduced the chances of anyone passing me at 130 K/H. I also miss the old signs marking 45 gallon drums at the side of New Brunswick Roads for the dumping of garbage. The signs warning of unexploded ordinance in Gagetown are still prominent. I am not anxious to make any moose sightings at 110 K/H.

Driving the Confederation Bridge after dark was unremarkable save for the length of the crossing. There was barely any traffic. I was not, however, prepared to be welcomed by 5 RCMP cars with all lights flashing when I came off the bridge. After checking my licence they expressed disinterest in me which suited me just fine. After four-lane divided highways negotiating narrow country lanes in the dark was quite another experience and nothing could prepare me for the red dirt road with grass growing in the centre that met me when I reached Humphrey Lane with the forest closing in from either side and trees brushing the roof of my RV. The laneway is actually on the map; but barely.

My friend at Brackley Beach is a gentleman farmer who specializes in high-bush blueberries. He not only harvests his berries but also weighs the production from each plant, takes a sugar count and even counts the berries.

When he's finished doing his calculations his wife makes blueberry jam. While on the island I visited the various National Parks including a pilgrimage to Green Gables where I joshed that red hair was not a condition of employment.

Got to attend one of the many Ceilidhs and wandered around Veseys Seeds.

Made the rounds of Charlottetown and shopped at the Saturday Farmer's Market there.

Before leaving the island spent a couple nights at Crystal Beach RV Park. Alas wave action has done for the crystal beach, Malpeque Bay smells, and the camping area is more swamp than meadow.

The internet did work after a fashion. Two Great Blue Herons guarded the bay. Left the island in Daylight and stopped at a Presbyterian Churchyard to take photos of the Confederation Bridge.

Driving with an 8 ft high rig in crosswinds is a challenge and tends to give one a following. The roads to and from the bridge may be marked 90 and 100 Km/Hr but that speed is not particularly safe on those broken unstable roads. Made Halifax by Saturday afternoon after pausing at the Nova Scotia Welcome Centre to gather info—alas the piper has retired for the season.

Wandering the Backroads of Lunenburg County

September 10^th

Today I made glad the heart of an almost ninety-year-old, my Aunt Muriel.  I'd told her we could go anywhere in Lunenburg County her heart desired and accordingly we set off on a forty-mile trip around the backroads of the area in which we both grew up. 

 

We began on Victoria Rd in Bridgewater and headed up through Wileville to Newcombville and Bakersettlement.  We stopped at the Lutheran Church there at which my Aunt played the organ during her early 80ies.  We then took the Monk Rd across to Upper Branch, a mainly dirt road hemmed in by fast growing brush on both sides.  In Upper Branch we paused at the Union Church before taking the Frauzel Rd to view my Uncle Stephen's former home.  Next was yet another winding dirt road that led to Branch Lahave where we stopped to cook rice and stir-fry pork.  After that respite we drove down through Branch Lahave, Lower Branch—where Aunt Muriel raised her family—and on through Cooksville to cross the Lahave River and take her home.  In all that trip took four hours.  Aunt Muriel will be talking about the adventure of a lifetime for years to come.  Not the least of the wonders, of course, was the opportunity to see my home on wheels.  For those of you who don't know the territory and do not have access to a map of Nova Scotia we toured the central part of the County of Lunenburg making a circuit around Midville Branch without actually visiting it. 

 

I can only hope my E-mail programme and blogger arrange these entries in a logical chronicle order.  I am writing them as the events occur but will have to wait until I have Internet access to publish them. 

 

           

           

Hello from the Olde Sod

Nova Scotia

September 10th

Land of my birth. Alas, forty-one years of life in Upper Canada has altered the eyes with which I view her and the same period of change and growth transformed the land they see. It truly is impossible to go home. When I reached Lake Fletcher my sister greeted me as her closest blood relative. It's not a matter of liking or disliking, we just don't seem to be able to achieve a meeting of minds on any subject—our brains seem to be wired differently—and it's not simply a issue of gender. We do agree on one thing though, I have always loved my brother-in-law as the male sibling I lacked growing up. Halifax continues to grow and spread amid the blue-grey slate upon which it is built. Not only as a result of amalgamation but also as a result of growing housing subdivisions, shopping centres, and industrial/commercial parks.

Fortunately for us Hurricane Hanna blew up the Bay of Fundy missing us save for a few hours of heavy rainfall. The most intense rain sluiced down the windows during church service. As in Upper Canada everything here is green and vibrant. Joining the latest Nova Scotia trend we indulged in some Sunday Afternoon Shopping. What can I say? By mid-afternoon the sun was out and after an exchange of picture viewing which included views of my Liverpool Bobby Nephew and Eva, her grandparent's pride and joy we went for a long walk around the subdivision to work off our dinner.

Monday Morning, September 8 saw me headed toward Midville Branch, Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia. The roads are still in the same place—though the back roads are in remarkably good condition—someone must have voted for the correct party¿? The landscape I remembered is irrevocably changed. The home I grew up in is completely obscured behind a forest of unchopped brush and trees even from the graveyard which fronts it. That cemetery is now home to virtually all the adults among whom I was raised and I toured it with a distinct feeling of numbness and loss. At the Corner I stopped to spend a couple hours with 95-year-old Herbie Mailman—related to me as I recall from my Mother's side, not through the Mailman's, (yes, that is correct English.) On the crossroad I went to look at the Hirtle Hill and the Falls—rapids really—on the Lahave River, property I still own and pay taxes on. The road that runs past it was reconstructed some years past and the sections of the old highway that are no longer in use have been completely reclaimed by Nature. Save for a few depressions in the soil, a few rocks that formed foundations, and fast disappearing clearings; little remains of the half dozen or so homesteads upon which my ancestors eked out a meagre living.

My nearest neighbour lives in the Ancestral home of my Great-Uncle Otto. It seems strange to see a pole with electrical transformer planted next to the cellarway; my Uncle never had power. The task of maintaining the myriad out-buildings and 100-foot barn would tax all but the wealthiest landowner; the struggling artist who lives there is overwhelmed. The house I wandered as a favoured grand-nephew is barely recognizable save for occupying the same location.

Somehow I managed to back into a narrow woods road and park on my own property for the night.

The next morning camera in hand I walked up over the old hill and down to the waterfall.

It was with nostalgia I photographed and then parked myself on the Mailman fishing rock which fronts the back-eddy pool below the falls.

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Toward Noon I drove down to Oakhill and spent the remainder of the day with my 89-year-old Aunt Muriel; my oldest living relative, my Father's Sister. It seems strange to be told I remind her of her father, Harbin, who died before I was born. After Supper I drove in toward Lunenburg and parked myself at Little Lake Campground and spent the night listening to an overnight shower. This morning I sit at my rear table watching a Downie Woodpecker get his breakfast while I write this blog.