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.
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