A Cool Shenandoah Welcome

October 29th

Anyone who knows me is aware that I believe in plain speaking and suffer fools with little patience. Anyone from my side of the 49th parallel who paid attention at all in civics class will remember that the US Constitution makes it a federal state with all powers not granted to the states reserved by the Federal Government and that in Canada the opposite is true, all powers not granted to Ottawa devolving to the provinces. So much for theory for in practise the opposite happens on both sides of the border. Why do I mention this, because this parochial approach to all matters extends to tourist bureaus? Were I to go into any major tourist information centre in Canada I would expect to find guides and maps for all ten provinces and even some of the northern territories. Indeed tourist associations exchange brochures as a matter of course. Imagine my surprise then when I innocently walked into the West Virginia Welcome Centre and asked about the Blue Ridge Parkway and Shenandoah Park and was informed, "That's in Virginia, you'll have to go into the centre 20 miles down the road." I also find it instructive that although they are extensions of the same mountain ridge the Skyline Dr is treated in Shenandoah National Park as a separate entity from the Blue Ridge Parkway with which it is contiguous. So far none of the park stores or info centres has offered a single bit of information on the Blue Ridge Parkway though to my eyes they comprise a single trail.

October 30th

Ran out of time before I finished the above entry. I'd just spent the coldest night yet at Big Meadows Campground, elev. 3535 ft, among the Oak Savannah. Unfortunately for the second day in a row nature seemed determined to attempt to blow all intruders off the mountain and that wind was cold. Got a few pictures, some from the window of my RV but otherwise continued a slow but relentless path to the south end of the park. I'd settled on Misty Mountain Campground near Greenville and received a warm welcome. After I'd finished setting up and catching up online I even went to take advantage of the showers in their bunkhouse. Spent a quiet if cool evening. The next morning made the climb back up to the Parkway and headed south on the Blue Ridge.

On the Blue Ridge Parkway there are subtle differences. Like the farm I passed on the way to the picnic area where I'm writing this entry. They seem to call every pull-off an overlook even if it doesn't afford a vista overlooking anything.

I'll now wax philosophical. I have the distinct feeling that we owe the existence of this parkway to the fact that the land was occupied by hillbillies who lacked the financial resources or connections to mount opposition to the expropriation of their lands. Had the land been owned by the wealthy and powerful the result may have been entirely different. By contrast in Ontario we seem to have to fight for every square inch of protected land against developers, the wealthy, the lumbering and mining interests, and hunters.

The last entry was made at the junction of the Otter Creek and the James River elev 670 ft. In the last 10 miles I've gained nearly 3000 ft and the temperature has dropped 10 degrees from the 55 it was in the valley. Had that been an appropriate point in my journey it would have been preferable to camp at that lower elevation. As it is I'm headed for Roanoke at the campground there. Shall I say that fuel economy is not the objective of this trip.

At a certain point in one's day finding the next campsite becomes a priority and I'd planned to stay on the ridge tonight at Roanoke Mountain Campground. It proved to be further down ther road than I'd expected at milepost 120 along a roadway into the woods. The city of Roanoke gets right up to within feet of the Parkway at this point. When I arrived at last discovered that I needed exact change and I didn't have a 10 spot. So began the hunt to break a 20. Found a group of parents/teachers from Roanoke Catholic High School out with a cross country team training in the park and I'm forever grateful to one of the adults for supplying the change. Now I'm settled in with a beer and catching up as well as I can without Wi-Fi.

I wouldn't want to be here when the place is busy. Some of the sites are nothing but a pull off from the roadway through the campground with a campfire ring and picnic table under or up the hill.

I just finished downloading the pictures I took today and on one of the last overlooks I stopped at a kettle of Turkey Vultures were soaring looking for carrion. When I've more time and an internet connection I'll add some pictures.

Preparing to Drive the Parkways

Sunday October 26th

Television personality Ben Mulroney is getting married next week. And here I thought he was married to his own reflection in the mirror.

Man charged with attack on Oasis' Noel Gallagher due in Toronto court. And here I thought that was Liam's job.

And so ends my commentary on the world at large.

Spent part of today reading up on the Skyline Dr and Blue Ridge Parkway. Apparently we owe the workers of the Civilian Conservation Corps formed under Roosevelt's New Deal during the depression for the existence of these trails and their facilities. I doubt whether the majority of those 3 million workers looked as sexy as Iron Mike, whose statue unveiled in 2006 honours their work. Anyone who has watched The Waltons got a contrarian's view of this program from Grandma and a particularly sour take on the project from their backwoods cousin who was forced off her land by the building of the parkway. In an age in which people take being transferred and moving from city to city; province to state; and even country to country in stride it is hard for most to understand the affinity those raised in the backwoods had for the land on which they were raised, tended all their lives, and upon which they depended for their livelihood. For those who are close to the land their piece of God's Earth informs their being and is a part of them as much as their homes and families. The springs, nut trees, hunting grounds, fertile soil, berry patches, mushroom picking sites, maple tapping woods, caves, and vistas infuse their souls and support their physical being. This is what it is to be one with the land.

But I digress. The area to which I'm headed is the backdrop for the TV Series to which I refer. There really is a place called Rockfish and Charlottesville is nearby.

Tuesday, October 28th

In the past couple days I've driven by signposts marking many of America's most historic sites and am parked tonight not far from Washington DC.

Martins Food in Front Royal, Virginia was a revelation. I wish I could get boneless chicken breasts in Oakville that were air-cooled, lacked fat hidden in the packaging, and had all the sinews removed. Buying beer and wine with your groceries is also a unique experience as is being asked for the date of your birth at the checkout. Front Royal RV Campground is accessed through an actively grazed pasture via a narrow single lane paved road with two Texas gates. A failed KOA its free Wi-Fi works at bytes a second. They do have water and electricity but the oriental owners barely speak English.

Skyline Caves was an interesting hour-long diversion this morning. Being led through a former underground river by a young man clad in Blue suitcoat and tie was novel.

Get your gas before you enter the Skyline Drive—it's 80¢ a gallon more expensive in the Park. The climb up to the ridge made my gas gauge visibly sink. Driving the winding hilly roads makes me feel right at home as on the backroads of Lunenburg County. After being overhauled for days by impatient truckers it's heaven to be on a road where the required speed limit matches my sensibilities. The snow dusted on the high places was an eye-opener and the gale-force winds and temperatures hovering around freezing made going outside for hikes less than pleasant. Despite the weather fall colours are just beginning to peak in this area so for once I've timed it right. The vistas viewable from the overlooks are panoramic and I'm thankful my vehicle affords a good view without my having to get out and risk being literally blown away. The Audio Guide I picked up at the visitor's centre was well worth the investment.

I've Got Those Rainy Day Blues

The good news is that my RV is waterproof the bad news is that nature is determined to prove it. When held under house arrest by the weather it matters little where one is parked but for the record I'm in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Given what's happened these past few days drawing the curtains and having a nap this afternoon seemed the course of least resistance. As I start writing darkness is quickly falling, though there's little I want to see outside in any case. Rain has been sluicing down my skylights all day.

On Thursday afternoon I decided I'd accomplished all I had could before leaving Oakville so before I left shut things down at home and set out to complete my last group of tasks. When getting my heat pump working did not appear in the works I decided it wasn't worth spending another night so I set off for Niagara. The only thing I still needed badly was propane and it wasn't on offer where I checked. Stopped at Queenston Heights for supper on the food items that might cause a problem at the border and said my good byes to Canadian soil. Paused at Canada Customs to register my camera and binoculars then with a sense of fatalism drove up to American Customs. Crossed the frontier with a minimum of hassle around 5:45 and the journey began.

It wasn't long of course until I was engulfed in darkness. Crossed the toll bridge and was on my way. The I-90 is a toll highway? As I learned later the next day at a New York State Tourist Bureau from the senior citizen who was manning it and eager for company on a slow day this applies only to the stretch that passes Rochester which happened to be Democratic at that time the Republican Governor Rockefeller built the rest of the highway. Political patronage again rears its ugly head and the state considers the revenue too valuable to surrender this stretch to the Feds even though it was long since paid for. The one thing I've noticed about US Turnpikes is the fact that exit lanes are too short to allow one to slow down in time forcing one to do so in traffic. Many also involve downhill stretches with bridge abutments at the bottom.

With only a slight detour in the wrong direction found my way to the campground I'd settled on for my first night in America and found my way to an empty site—most of them—as instructed and as the Milky Way smiled down on me plugged my RV into the power post remembering to shoot the circuit breaker. America gave me a cool and frosty welcome. Next morning met my host and got him to fill my propane tank. After breakfast set off to find gasoline; $3.35.9 an American Gallon picked up half a gallon of milk at a Yellow Goose Mart. So began a long day of driving. Stopped at one mall for potato salad and frozen OJ—more expensive than in Canada—and was offered chicken and biscuits with gravy as the luncheon special by a person of colour. Pass. The Tom Tom GPS and I made it through New York State and crossed into Pennsylvania stopping at the Welcome Centre. "Smile, You're in Pennsylvania!"

As light began to fail negotiated a bewildering series of interchanges and then narrow country roads looking for my next campground. I never did find it. I viewed their website the night before but the campground alluded me. Before I gave up for the night completely stopped for gas @ $2.79 a gallon—remind me to fill up before I leave Penn State. Stopped at a Park and Ride to catch a few hours rest and then set off after programming the GPS for Harrisburg. I had planned on a two day rest at the last campground and the weather that followed confirmed the wisdom of my original plans.

While I was stopped at a rest area having coffee and a sandwich the rain started. Just how high I'd climbed in the last hours became apparent when we started going downhill. I regret the fact that night obscured the mountains through which I'd driven. Mind you the fall colours have been muted by haze and an early fall for most of the territory I've crossed; I can only hope the Blue Ridge Parkway is not as far advanced. Not long into the evening the rain became wind-driven making driving even more miserable in such hilly terrain. I was thankful to negotiate the extensive road construction around Wilkes-Barre at a time when there was relatively little traffic. What the truckers stuck behind me were saying I'm better off not knowing. Being constantly overtaken by behemoths throwing off spray and their own air currents causes some white knuckles. To add to the misery after Wilkes-Barre the fog set in. Stopped for another nap before continuing on. When I'd passed my fifth roadkill deer and realized that traffic was barrelling by me at 65 miles per hour with zero visibility I got off the highway after the last 10 mile construction zone. Found a place to park and went to bed.

The next morning got going slowly around 7:30 and stopped at Frunck Family Restaurant with the idea of having breakfast. The place was crawling with middle-aged reservists in camos. When no one had come to seat me after 5 minutes I gave up in disgust and went on my way. The wind let up if not the rain and I made good time to Harrisburg and checked into my present campsite at 9:30 this morning. First order of business after plugging in was bacon and eggs. This is the first campground I've seen that has electrical meters at every site. They also have a log-on system for the internet that features bandwidth throttling. The place I stayed Thursday night did that as well. Apparently I've exceeded my limit for the day already.

I may attempt to read some E-mail after I post this blog. I plan to rest up for two days in the hopes of this weather passing. According to my calculations my ultimate goal of reaching Winchester and the Blue Ridge Parkway is now only a day's drive after crossing Maryland, West Virginia, and Virginia. I'll have to look later for a campground nearby as I want to stop at the visitor's centre before I begin driving the parkway. The rain is still falling as I finish this note so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to fill my water tank and bottles, pump out holding tanks and explore the area. If I'm given the opportunity I'll post this tonight—Saturday. My Personal In-Box being a lonely piece of electronic real estate I won't be troubled with answering any E-mail.

Almost Ready to Hit the Road

I've been busy tying up the last few loose ends in the past few days and the night time lows are telling me it's time to start heading south. Visited a few malls today to check on a few odds and ends and received a jolt when I realized that The Bay already has its Christmas Trees up. In a vampirish twist this close to Hallowe'en I was bemused to see a Blood Donor Clinic in the middle of Oakville Place the other day. In shopping to replace a small appliance that recently gave up the ghost I was also more than a little shocked to see that there actually is a fairly large counter gadget whose sole purpose is to open sealed canners. Whoever feels the need for that item has more cupboard space than I. Not being particularly enthusiastic about shopping in the first place I decided to put off any purchases until later.

I'm still spending a great deal of time watching TV Series on DVD but in the last few weeks I've finally rediscovered reading. I've almost doubled the number of books I've read this year in this month alone. It's about time as I've a rather large and still growing collection of books on my to-read list.

At the risk of overloading my RV I've sorted through the last of the goods from my pantry I plan to pack for travel and have only the deep freeze to empty and set dormant before I depart.

I just finished planning a journey along the Blue Ridge Parkway on my way south, a route recommended by a friend.

Taking the RV for a Dry Run

Here it is Sunday evening, Thanksgiving Weekend and I'm "camped" beside Hwy 401 at Toronto West KOA. I'm still trying to decide what it is about KOA's and major highways. Aside from bad spelling and that yellow colour scheme KOA's offer Motorhome travelers assurance of consistent quality. I've been seeing this one from the highway for over 40 years and finally I'm parked here. Being beside a major highway may give KOA's visibility but it sure doesn't grant the kamper a peaceful stay.

With a temperature today that reached 25º C it doesn't seem possible that Monday Morning I looked outside my RV and saw half an inch of frost. Of course Monday Morning I was parked on the North Shore of the Saint Lawrence River 1000 Km from here and considerably further north. I've spent the last few days fine-tuning the items I felt I needed when I packed my RV in August, removing the things I didn't need and working out what I can do without in order to keep the weight I'm carrying within reasonable limits. The purpose of this dry run, then, is to see if my planning lives up to reality. Of course today's reality and Monday's are a time zone and language apart.

Just two weeks ago I saw regular gasoline at a service station in Nova Scotia posted at 142.9¢ a litre. Today I saw it at 100.9. Of course 2 weeks ago stocks were worth over 25% more than they are today. I also briefly visited a campground that insisted that they only deal in cash. I don't make it a habit to be walking around these days with $70 in my pocket.

Now it is Thanksgiving Monday and I have yet to post this entry. Took a walk around Toronto West KOA this morning before it got so warm, (82º F in my RV), and noted that in a few acres this campsite crams more kampsites than Thomas Raddall Provincial Park in Nova Scotia fits in several square miles. Of course Thomas Raddall doesn't have to provide 30-Amp-electrical & sewer hookups.

While I was out took a walk along a woods road and noted the nearby swamps which must breed millions of mosquitoes in season. To emphasize just how far the season is advanced every zephyr of wind caused a fall of autumn leaves from the trees along the path spreading a carpet that rustled and a continuing rain of new leaves that was audible even above the noise of the nearby traffic.

When I got back I set about the principle objective of my stay here and worked away at the bulging "Inbox" of my E-mail program that at one point 2 weeks ago had swelled to over 700 entries. I now have it down to fewer than 100 and counting.

I managed to make cornmeal pancakes this morning and plan to grill chicken breasts for Thanksgiving dinner later this afternoon. If my resolve holds I'll also make tuna chowder as well.

Getting Ready to Travel

It's Friday already and I'm parked in my Condo parking lot. It seems strange to feel awkward in my own home. I've become accustomed to having everything within close reach and I've come to expect the floor beneath me to rock a bit when I move in certain ways. Before I left in August I turned off my refrigerator and therefore my food is still stored in the RV. I may sleep in my apartment but I must still return to the RV to eat. It's also unsettling to see just how much things can change even in only 6 weeks; new roads torn up for construction here, new pavement markings there, and an entire roster of new neighbours.

During my drive in Wednesday heavy rain added to the misery of driving across the top of Toronto. On the way I dropped in on friends in Milton and got fed a bowl of soup. When I did get home I found my bed and crawled into it. Yesterday began the task of getting items I no longer need out of my RV and lugging the things I intend to take with me down. And then there are the mundane tasks of laundry, mending, cleaning, and making repairs. I also have to deal with closing up my apartment, a few minor and major crises, phone calls, and paperwork; as well as shopping, sorting, and deciding what I'll take with me and what leave behind.

Election fever is rampant across North America and as a friend remarked the other day borrowing a line I've used as well, "Where's the Rhinoceros Party when you need them?" Here are a few other sayings I've collected recently:

No man's life, liberty or property are safe while the legislature is in session.

Judge Gideon J. Tucker

There are 10¹¹ stars in the galaxy. That used to be a huge number. But it's only a hundred billion. It's less than the national deficit! We used to call them astronomical numbers. Now we should call them economical numbers.

Richard Feynman (1918 - 1988)

Since that statement 10 years ago the US Debt has increased by 3 more orders of magnitude.

It's now Saturday and on this side of the border it's Thanksgiving Weekend and Monday is a holiday. I suppose this year I'm going to have the experience of American Thanksgiving the end of November. As regards the world at large I'm adopting what is likely a selfish attitude and declaring, "Stop the world, I want to get off." Given the melt-down in the world's financial markets it's best I not check my mutual savings fund at this time.

North Shore Quebec Headed Home.txt

Monday Morning October 6^th I awoke to thick frost on everything outside my RV. Is nature trying to tell me something? At least I didn't suffer from noisy neighbours or indeed any neighbours at all. The seasonal campers spent the previous Weekend closing up their trailers for the season. Over my three days at Le Genvrier I spent considerable time catching up on my E-mail, finally at least opening everything in my inbox. I took a walk along the trail system after the sun finally came out Sunday Morning but found my best opportunities to photograph autumn foliage along Hwy 138. I got home just in time to miss a passing shower. Took a walk over to the Fromagerie next door to sample their wares and check out the factory. I got to enjoy some un-dyed cheese curds. The ones I bought were fresh off the line and still warm. Mostly for three days I looked out my windows at the brilliant red foliage and basked in the passing scene. I did scare up a Ruffed Grouse in the woods while I was walking.

My first stop Monday morning after breaking camp was a propane refill station. I might survive without heat but my appliances and plumbing would not. Getting great shots of a scenic view involves luck and being in the right place at the right time with the right light. Unfortunately I did not have that kind of luck and my view from the height of land of Baie-St-Paul and the south shore of the Saint Lawrence is shrouded in mist. Whoever planted the row of firs outside the tourist bureau there did not think about what their placement would do to views of the vista below once they grew.

Quebec drivers are an impatient lot and take chances passing on blind hills and curves I wouldn't dream of risking. Politeness dictates that one pull over to allow faster traffic to pass but prudence requires that it be done in safety and common sense says it can't be done for every car that overtakes one. In a posted construction zone I got my own back when a driver impatient that I was driving the posted speed took off and was promptly pulled over by a QPP Radar Cop.

My first experience with the KOA chain of campgrounds left much to be desired. KOA Montreal West is crammed between Hwy 20 and the CN Mainline. The people who actually pay the yearly fee to be seasonal campers in that racket leave me mystified as to how intolerable their home situation must be if that cacophony is restful. KOA Brighton is on a hill overlooking the 401. Half a mile is not distant enough to muffle that noise. Remind me to switch the restroom light to 'on' from 'auto' next time I take a shower at night. At least I didn't have to pay extra for that shower but I could have used a mite more water pressure. The main thing both sites have going for them is the fact that they're still open. By this time tomorrow I hope to be able to sleep in my own bed at home in Oakville. I own this bed as well but the mattress is not quite as comfy and does not recline.

Further Adventures of The Bluenose Wanderer

Yesterday, the second of October has to have been some of the most miserable driving I've encountered in nearly 60 years. At times the rain came down faster than the windshield wipers could clear it and being overtaken by truckers was miserable. Hitting pools of water on the highway was no fun either. At least I wasn't on foot. Fortunately I had only two hours of driving to accomplish so I had the luxury of pausing along the way. Alas the glowering, lowering grey skies obscured the brilliant fall colours through which I was driving and the pelting rain made picture taking impossible. Finally after being passed by the final impatient trucker I made Rivière Du Loup and found my campground with the help of my GPS. Set up in the rain and shortly after looked out to see my RV surrounded by a lake. Not the kind of shot used in tourist brochures. Hunkered down for the night and as the sky cleared the wind came up rocking my home and chilling its walls. Just to complete the picture across the road is an enterprise called Santa's Castle complete with Silent Night, Holy Night and Xmas decorations—though what a breaching whale has to do with Santa I'm not certain. Despite it all I went for a walk in the rain—and regretted the wet clothing later.

Discovering that I was camped five minutes from the ferry to the North Shore of the Saint Lawrence I decided to seize the day and take advantage of the opportunity. Thanks to the internet I was able to discover that the ferry sailed at 8:00 AM and a half hour lead time was advisable before embarkation. Next I needed a place to camp the next night. This late in the season the first criteria in such a search is "are they still open?" Again research online showed that an ideal location was still available at the midpoint between the dock and Quebec City.

Accordingly at 7:15 AM next morning I set out. At the entrance I was met by a personable young man who endeared himself further by classifying my RV as a car for fare purposes. When you take the ferry to Grand Manan the trip to the island is free; you pay to get off. Here I was presented with a billet and told to pay on board, the deck hand collected it before we departed the ship. Sufficient haze remained in the air to make picture taking futile again but as we got closer the North Shore glowed in the sun. The sail was uneventful save for some rocking as we neared the North Terminus. The truckers and frequent travelers all settled into the dining area for breakfast while I took advantage of Wi-Fi to read E-mail. Disembarkation is a mad scramble but I found a rest area to wait out the traffic jam.

The trip along the North Shore is memorable. Steep grades and sharp curves follow the coastline and give one the sensation that the next drop will be into the river. The dark rocky heights are marked by verdant evergreens and splashes of brilliant hard woods. The most spectacular sights lacked a pull-off for picture taking and others were marked by rows of electrical transmission towers. Nevertheless I do not regret the journey though there were a few impatient drivers who probably wished I hadn't. Along the way I found a small restaurant for an early Dinner which served Chicken and Poutine in five different iterations—no I didn't partake.

When I arrived Le Genévrier proved to be everything I'd expected in a campground and high-speed Wi-Fi in my RV!

Would You Like Some Cheese with that Whine?

It was when I learned the difference between parking an RV at a campground and pitching a tent was less than $5.00 I decided these old bones of mine were ready for softer camping.  I've camped on both coasts of this country of ours and in most of the provincial parks in Ontario, canoed several hundred miles, and gone on long drives but process of pitching a tent nightly and taking it down again—particularly when it's wet—has lost its lustre.  The struggles to cook meals and those nocturnal strolls after crawling out of a warm sleeping bag don't help either.  By comparison life in an RV was supposed to be easier.

 

Having just spent over an hour at them I'm here to tell you that there are chores in paradise.  Upon arrival at a camp site the first order of business is ensuring the Motorhome is level.  Lacking a million-dollar bus that does this at the push of a button I'm learning the hard way.  Rather than roll up a sleeping bag I now have two beds to make up and I must say that I've never bonked my head on the roof of my tent.   My RV has twelve, count 'em, 12 windows to clean and although it's pleasant to not have to go for cold walks at night pumping out two holding tanks seems to take forever.  And, whereas a tent can be picked up and shaken, even turned inside out my RV must be swept and the floor washed. 

 

On the other hand none of my three tents came with a furnace—though a propane light does a decent job.  And tonight I'm listening to classical music while I dine.  And no tent comes with a TV and DVD player and the power to run them.

 

 

 

 

 

           

           

Farewell to Nova Scotia; Farewell to the Maritimes.txt

I made my last entry from just outside Truro, Nova Scotia.  This morning I'm near Woodstock, New Brunswick.  The season for camping is fast nearing an end and the process of selecting campgrounds now involves checking their closing dates as a first priority.  Cosy Cabins doesn't so much have a campground as a grassy parking lot with electrical, water, and sewer hook-ups in a hollow beside the Saint John River.  They claim to have Wi-Fi Internet, but the signal is so weak as to be unusable.  Before I leave the area I believe I'll drive up to their main office and see if I can get a better connection there.  Perhaps if the rain weren't spattering on my roof and the wind chattering away at my bathroom vent I'd feel more charitably toward the location.

 

If camping with the half-mile-wide Saint John River outside my window seems a stretch my next intended campsite will be on the St. Lawrence which at Rivière du Loup is wider than most of the world's lakes but then it drains the Great Lakes.   On past trips to Nova Scotia by car I've made the trip as quickly as possible stopping only for necessary respite; indeed even this time I made the trip down in just over two days.  On this return journey I'm taking the luxury of making the journey in short hops; stopping to see some of the attractions I've only noted in passing on previous passages.  Or perhaps it's just that I'm trying to put off the tasks I know await me when I arrive in Oakville. 

 

I left Scotia Pines Campground with rain washing my windshield so rather than make the trip into Truro to see Victoria Park I hit the road.  I did make time to go nuts at the Masstown Market; a combination nursery, fruit stand, liquor store, and bakery.  I picked up apples, local honey and maple syrup, fresh bread, preserves, gourmet cheeses, and the makings for salad.  Later I stopped at Oxford and found a bank at which to cash a cheque that arrived for me at my sister's.  My lunch stop was at the Border tourist bureau where I checked my mail and found a note from my Sister.  Finally in New Brunswick I stopped for a strawberry sundae with soft ice cream and gas at Salisbury. 

 

In Fredericton I visited Prospect St—in Oakville I'd call it Speers Rd.  There I found Future Shop and failed to find the latest TV Series that was supposed to be released on DVD.  After picking up a few movies as a consolation I drove on to Hartt Island RV Resort.  This site is a combination amusement park and campground.  Located overlooking the Saint John River with walking trails that lead right into downtown Fredericton this park is tourist destination.  In season one would need an advance reservation to get inside the gate.  As it was I got a prime site which afforded me a view of the river from my bedroom windows.  I did enjoy the view.  The next morning I pulled up stakes and headed up the line to Kings Landing.   

 

When I first drove east to Nova Scotia the road actually took one through the one-lane Hartland covered bridge.  Later one took the new paved bridge which overlooked the site.  Today the new superhighway bypasses Hartland completely.  Kings Landing is a historical village attempting to reproduce life in a village in New Brunswick of the 1860's.  In the past I had always sailed past in a hurry wondering just what I was missing.  Although no one actually lives in this village but the farm animals the staff in period costume attempts to reproduce the ambience of the time.  It is, however, an indolent lifestyle as their chief job is to interact with the tourists.  The gentleman who was ostensibly harvesting the apple crop spent most of his time walking around with a wooden pail of apples sharing them with his fellow docents and talking to the public.  As with all 'historic' villages anachronisms are hard to escape.  The old general store had a computer in one corner.  In one outbuilding I spied in was hidden a telephone switching station.  The sound of heavy current belied an electrical substation hidden inside another building.  In the local pub the patrons had servers in period costume and candlelight but the kitchen was ultra-modern as were the "privies" and the credit card processing cash desk.  Every building also sported fire sensors and a surveillance system.  The hardest working employees were the two horses who with their driver pulled the heavy wagon around the hilly site ferrying tourists from place to place.  The setting may have been 1860 but the price I paid for lunch at the Kings Inn would have bought me a home back then.  The one comment I left them was that I'd have expected farmers to have had bird houses around to encourage their feathered friends to keep down the insect population. 

 

The arrival of the new Highway 2 in New Brunswick has played havoc with local roads.  The trip to Kings Landing was fraught with a confusing series of detours as was the entrance to my present campsite.  Although the sun should be up at this point a heavily overcast sky is holding back the dawn.  Since my plan for today calls for a journey of less than 200 miles I'm in no hurry.  I'd prefer not to get soaked when I go out to disconnect my land line.  A momentary lull between showers just now seemed just about right.  I believe I'll go check out the local Farm Market in Woodstock, find Smitty's Pancake House, and walk through the Mall on Connell St.  They are on my way.