Tag Archives: moncton

Monday 15th September 2014 – ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Next morning I troll off early towards Antigonish. It’s a long way away and I have plenty to do en route.

It’s quite an uneventful drive at least as far as Fredericton where I stop to pick up my purchase from Saturday. And in due course I’ll post a photo of it and tell you all about it.

Back on the road south-eastwards and at a certain moment a few miles south of Fredericton, I’m surprised by three tanks that drive over a bridge across the Trans-Canada Highway. And I don’t mean water tanks or that kind of thing, but proper great big self-propelled armoured machines with long guns. I wonder what’s up with them.

Just gone past me is a campaign bus for one of the candidates in the forthcoming elections and if you look very carefully on the nearside you might see something black flapping in the wind. It seems that someone has put out one of his windows, and the driver has covered it over with a black plastic bin liner to keep out the rain, but that’s burst now due to the air pressure as he’s been driving along.

And as we approach Moncton it seems to be brightening up now. We have blue skies and there might even be some sun about to make its appearance. It makes a change from the grey miserable misty morning that we had.

I struck gold in Princess Autos. They are having a sale and I bought an 25-inch power bar for $9:99, a set of 22 spanners, 11 metric and 11 AF, for $12:00, and a tyre pressure gauge for $0:99. An absolute bargain, that all was.

The only downside of this was that they didn’t have a cheap set of sockets to go with the power bar. But these were unbelievable prices.

And at the Salvation Army Thrift Store down the road they gave me a senior citizen’s discount on the CD that I bought. I’m not sure whether to be pleased of humiliated.

And on the Trans-Canada Highway, which is effectively a motorway with dual carriageways, just outside Moncton there’s a railway level crossing. And there’s another one too just a mile or so further on, by the Dieppe and airport turn-off. This isn’t something that you see every day on a motorway. We would have endless amounts of fun with a railway level crossing on the M25 in the UK.

Bob Dylan once sang “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows”, and that’s certainly true around here, isn’t it?

I’m at my lunch stop and you can tell that we are at the border between New Brunswick and Nova Scotia because tthere’s a pile of wind turbines down there taking full advantage of this screaming wind.

Where I am is actually in New Brunswick and there’s not a wind turbine in sight. I know that I have a “thing” in favour of wind turbines, owning four myself, but this lack of wind turbines in New Brunswick is just plain absurd.

Where I am is actually at Fort Beausejour and we’ve been here before, haven’t we?

It was freezing cold then in the middle of winter so I didn’t stay there long. And I didn’t stay here long today either as I was in quite a rush – just long enough to take a couple of photos and eat my butties. I’ll have to come back here yet again.

I made it to Antigonish right to the minute and Hannah was bang on time too. We went for a meal and a really good chat and she told me all about her first couple of weeks at University. She’s the first of our family to go to university straight from school by the way, and she’s at St Francis-Xavier University, the best University in Canada if not the English-speaking world. I don’t know about anyone else but I’m intensely proud of her.

The downside of this is that I have left it far too late to find a spec for the night and I’ve ended up in a wickedly-overpriced motel. Still, you can’t have everything.

Tuesday 17th September 2013 – BRRR IT WAS COLD …

… this morning. Winter is here by the looks of it. Mind you the beautiful clear sky had a lot to do with that – all of the radiant heat disappearing through the night. But I really ought to stop complaining and get on with some work.

Still, you can’t keep a good man down, and not even me, and so I was off down the road into the gorgeous day.

Skirting the edge of Moncton and climbing into the hills at the back, some of the views were terrific and it was a total pleasure to have had a good day to see them for a change.

This is a view from the top of a bank somewhere along Homestead Road and somewhere down there is the truckstop where I spent the night, and of course the Trans Canada Highway as it closes in on Moncton. It’s a shame that the photo can’t really do any justice to the image but, like I said, it was something to be able to see clearly today.

In Moncton, it was largely disappointment. Princess Autos, the big motor factors, had nothing that was of interest and even if they might have done, the staff, while helpful, know totally nothing about their stock and so they were of no help at all.

UPS doesn’t have a budget freight service and the guy there suggested the Post Office for me to ship back a few things, but Home Depot did even better. A Ryobi plus One impact bit driver and two lithium batteries plus charger for just $119. You can’t even buy the batteries for that in Europe, and the bit driver costs more than that alone.

From there it was to the seaside, which was why I came down here anyway. This is the fishing port of Shediac. It’s only half an hour or so from Moncton and it’s one of the most beautiful places in New Brunswick. Strawberry Moose and I had a really good wander around and he made quite a few friends, both animal and human, more of which anon, and I took plenty of photos.

From here, we followed the Acadian Trail northwards. The Acadians were the original French settlers of the area and after the fall of Nouvelle France to the British they were obliged to take an oath of loyalty to the British Crown. Many of them did so of course, but some refused and those were deported to other French possessions (such as Louisiana, where they became known as “cajuns”) in North America, although once tensions had eased in the Maritime Provinces many of them filtered back

If it weren’t for the fact that the water here is absolutely freezing even in High Summer (this is the Northumberland Strait between New Brunswick and Prince Edward Isle – no Gulf Stream here) this would be a splendid place to come. There are lots of little beaches (but like in most areas of North America, quite a few of them are private) and lighthouses and all of that kind of thing to entertain the tourist.

Unfortunately, the tourist season is very short and Sunday was the last day for that and so there isn’t much that is open to the public right now, but who cares anyway? I’m enjoying the weather and the sea air.

Some of the small towns are quite pretty too. This is Bouctouche, a little further north along the Arcadian Trail, and the photo was taken from the steps of the large church.

The bridge is comparatively modern and at the side of it you’ll see a ramp down into the water and on the other side of the river, heavily overgrown, is another ramp. That seems to indicate “ferry” to me because even as late as the 1980s there was nothing like the number of bridges that you see today and the whole route was punctuated by ferries. A water-borne paradise and I for one am disappointed that it’s all gone.

But Bouctouche, or rather the huge Bouctouche sand dune, is where I’m heading. There’s a big car park quite discreetly hidden amongst the trees and that is where I plan to have my overnight stop.

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Monday 16th September 2013 – I’M NOT AT ALL SURE …

… what it was that awoke me thins morning but it was big and brushed past the side of the van while I was asleep. Of course no-one sleeps after anything like that.

so while I show you a picture of my little home for the last few days, I went off for a shower and then spent the next hour or so bringing the paperwork up to date as much as I could in the time that I had available.

You can’t see the bench that is allocated to each camping spec, and neither can you see the old truck wheels that are used as bases for open camp fires but I didn’t use either of them due to the weather (and it was even raining again this morning)

Once things were all organised I set off to Fredericton to pick up my new bass amp (silly me) and then spent the afternoon driving along the north bank of the Saint John River, a river that has of course featured in songs by such artists as Man and Led Zeppelin in the song “Babe I’m Going To Leave You”.

The drive wasn’t particularly inspiring, due completely to the weather which was enough to put the mockers on anything, but it very slowly started to clear up, as you can see in the distance in this photograph of a place called White’s Cove.

And by the time I got to Phoen … errr … the edge of Moncton and the big Irvings truckstop where I planned to stay the night, the sun was actually out, peeking under the edges of the cloud as it descended below the horizon

Of course, it won’t last

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Tuesday 13th September 2011 – HERE I AM …

… in my overnight parking space just off the motorway and this morning I reckon that I am just about to witness a major accident.

There is a car just driven up the slip road towards the highway on the westbound side and now he’s had a change of mind – he doesn’t want to go down there now and he’s reversing back down the slip road despite other vehicles actually trying to drive up there. And that can only have one outcome.

Yes transfer the New Brunswickers to Tennessee and neither the New Brunswickers nor the Tenesseeans would notice the difference

That wasn’t such a good night that wasn’t because I was being eaten alive by something or other all through the night. Not only that, we had a load of traffic on the motorway although that didn’t disturb me all that much and then we had two diesel trains that went past in the night. Obviously there’s a railway nearby with a few level crossings in close proximity. The truck that was parked in front of me also cleared off too at about 06:00 but of course you have to accept that.

But it was the insects eating me that was the problem. I’m just covered in bite marks. I probably let them in at the swamp at Irving’s. Who was it who said something about Arctic Canada – 9 months of snow and ice and 3 months of mosquitoes?

I went off into Moncton to find some coffee. And I also found the Motor Auction – it’s in Mountain Road opposite no 1758 and takes place on Wednesday at 18:00.

Princess Autos didn’t come up with much of interest except a 760-watt digital sine wave inverter complete with USB port, all for $74 dollars which is less than 50 quid and that is astonishing. Zellers and K-Mart were practically empty – of customers, staff and stock. It doesn’t look to me as if they are long for this world.

So I headed north on Highway 126 and picked up the railway line. And while I was idly passing the time of day hardly concentrating on what was going on, I encountered head-on the VIArail train from Montreal to Halifax. It took me completely by surprise and I didn’t have the camera ready.

12:02 it was, so it looks as if the train sleeps over in Halifax – there won’t be enough time for it to turn round and come back the same day

Onto Highway 116 because, despite whatever The Lady Who Lives In The SatNav wants to tell me, this is the road to Fredericton and that’s where I’m going.

Highway 116 is apparently known locally as Salmon River road, and so I imagine that this river that has been running alongside me for the last 20 minutes or so is actually the Salmon River, although don’t quote me on that.

Whatever it is, it’s quite pretty but there isn’t anywhere to pull up clear of the road to admire the view. My stomach thinks that my throat has been cut right now.

This is a suitable place to stop and make my butty, and I’m glad that I found it. I’m just on the edge of a small town called Ripples and this where I am is the site of one of the 26 Internment Camps in Canada during World War II.

It was originally a work camp for the unemployed during the depression but in 1940 it began to be used to house German and Austrian civilians. Later, Canadian citizens whose affiliations where suspect came here too.

Possibly the most famous, and certainly the most contentious inmate of the camp was Camillien Houde, mayor of Montreal. His “crime” was to call upon all Quebeckers to resist conscription and this was deemed to be sedition.

Although this is controversial, it needs to be looked at in the context of events at the time. There’s no place for looking at history through modern eyes. Leaving aside the question of conscientious objection to war and killing, which is quite another matter, one can understand the lack of willingness for Canadians to involve themselves in the Boer War (an “Imperialist” war against “fellow colonists”° and World War I (a European War involving the UK’s pledge to Belgium), it’s difficult to understand the position about World War II

That really was a World War, with German shells and torpedoes landing on Canadian soil and Canadian civilians being killed while going about their normal business. Everyone was involved in it, whether they wanted to be or not.

Add to that the fact that the Nazis were well-known to infiltrate disaffected minorities and use their disaffection as a way of undermining their national Governments. The Sudeten Germans, Danzigers, the Flemish, the Croats, the inhabitants of the Baltic States.

No-one can find any proof to confirm that Houde had been “got at” by the Nazis, but one can certainly understand, given the tenor of the times, why the British were very suspicious of Houde’s position which reflected that adopted by so many covert pro-Nazi groups in Europe

It’s possible to wander around the camp but although there are little signposts everywhere, there’s very little in the way of remains to see.

There are a few however if you look long and hard. I imagine that this is part of a fire hydrant or some such.

But there’s a delightful story doing the rounds about how well the inmates ate here. Not in terms of the volume of the food, but the fact that a couple of chefs of some of the finest hotels in the Maritime Provinces ended up being interned here.

20minutes down the road from Ripples I come to the Saint John River and there across the river is the city of Fredericton, the provincial capital of New Brunswick.

This is a beautiful small town – I drove through here in 2003 and quite liked the place, so I was determined to come back. But it won’t be today as I have a lot to do.

Firstly I’m off to the Mactaquac Provincial Park about 15kms out of town. That’s a headland where the land has been flooded by the Mactaquac Dam and is now a golf course, forest and primitive camp ground.

There are no rooms anywhere in any motels in the city, and I’ve been told that during the Harvest Jazz and Blues Festival, the police clamp down on any informal camping in the vicinity of the city.

I suppose that a little bit of luxury won’t do me any harm, and I might even manage a shower. It’s been a while.

Sunday 4th September 2011 – TRAVELLING TO MY NEW HOME

Here is where I spent last night.

I drove all around the town of Cabano and the local area last night but there wasn’t anywhere convenient to park up, so the back of the car park of the Metro supermarket had to do. I spent most of the night dying for a slash, freezing cold and I was awoken by a text message at 5:09.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

and haven’t I had some good luck here?

I fully believe that if I’m using someone’s facilities, it’s only polite to show my gratitude in a positive way and so with the supermarket being open this morning, I went in to do some shopping.

And just look at this! Real vegan cheese! And here in Quebec too. I consequently stocked up with a good supply of this for the next few weeks. This will go nicely on my salad butties, won’t it?

Cabano is situated at the head of Lake Temiscouata, which is the at the headwaters of the Saint John River system.

Back in the old days this was the site of a portage – people travelling between Lower Canada and Acadia made use of waterways as much as possible but there were places where they needed to leave one waterway and carry their equipment (a portage) overland to the next waterway. Cabano was one such place.

You don’t need any guesses to be able to tell what this might have been at one time. And when you see a street called rue de la Gare– “Station Street”, your suspicions are confirmed.

In the 1980s Canada out-Beechinged Beeching when it came to savaging the railway network and east of the city of Quebec the railway network was all-but wiped out. The line between the St Lawrence and Edmundston, which followed the old routz of the coureurs de bois was one that was obliterated.

To see more of Cabano, because there is plenty to see, you need to go here.

When I came by here the first time that I came to Canada, I saw a sign to a town called, rather enigmatically, St Louis du Ha! Ha! – complete with exclamation marks.

I didn’t have the time to go to check it out, but I took some time out today to go for a look, to make sure that I wasn’t imagining it. And here I am. It certainly exists, and that is confirmed by Canada Post.

Despite the rain, I go for a wander around the town and I’m immediately sidetracked by a load of fire engines.

It turns out that today is the the 39th Annual Tournament of the Fire Brigades of East Quebec, a series of competitions for who has the prettiest fire engine and so on, and I’ve stumbled right into the middle of it.

Whatever next? I’ll probably find a tractor pull or something.

From here, my journey takes me southwards into the hills – or the Appalachian Mountains to be precise – along the Route des Beaux Lieux.

And had it not been for the depressing weather, the lieux would have been exceedingly beaux. As it was, I wasn’t complaining at all. That’s the town of St Eusèbe up there on that crest, and it was every bit as beautiful as it looks from down here.

The Route des Beaux Lieux takes me to some beautiful places such as the town of Packingham just down there.

But you can see that this road has really earned its name. Even in the miserable weather that I was having today, it was all quite pretty around here. In the sunshine (if ever they have sunshine all around here) this must be a beautiful road to drive. I’ve made a mental note to come back here again and see for myself.

I cross over into New Brunswick and head for Lac Baker, which is going to be my lunch stop. Lac Baker is renowned for its municipal beach, which attract visitors from miles around, so they say.

Parked up outside the church, there’s a lovely view over the lake, although there would have been an even better one had the weather been decent enough. And it gives me an opportunity to try out my new vegan cheese, which is delicious. I’ll have some more of this.

The road from Lac baker takes me along the Saint John River to Edmundston and there on the outskirts of the town I finally find part of whatever it is of the New Brunswick rail network that survives.

This line is the main freight line that runs from Moncton up over the mountains to Edmundston and then along the Saint John River and over to Montreal. Much to my surprise, there’s actually a train moving around down there too.

Edmundston is famous for three reasons.

It has the third-largest French-speaking population outside France and Quebec
It has historically adopted a neutral position in all of the arguments that have raged around here – to such an extent that it set itself up at one time as the Republic of Madawaska
You can’t move around here without tripping over a paper mill

There are several paper mills here, one of which straddles the border with the USA and the liquid paper pulp passes over the river to the USA in a pressurised pipeline.

But look at the weather. It’s horrible and I’m not going for a walk around the town today. I’ll come back another time when the sun is shining.

Leaving Edmundston I caught up with my railway train. It’s pulled by three locomotives – two Canadian Nationals and a BC Rail – and there’s a power car in amongst the wagons, but I couldn’t see whose it was.

There’s a variety of rolling stock in there, including a wagon from the Illinois Central. Whatever is that doing in there?

Finally, the weather eases up and as it does so, the light disappears and I’m plunged into darkness. I suppose that you can’t have everything.

As I pull into Perth Andover, my arrival is celebrated by the local inhabitants with a fireworks display.

It’s Labour Day of course and the First Nation Community – Malicete, I think – here has been having a festival. The celebrations have concluded with this firework display and so, like everyone else here, I stop at the side of the road to find a good spec.

And so I arrive at my little piece of Canada. There are neighbours’ cars all over the placeand when the neighbour comes out onto the porch to see who it is who has arrived, I take the bull by the horns and go up to introduce myself.

This takes him completely by surprise.

And it’s pelting down again and we have thunder and lightning. What a way to arrive.

It’s just like my Demon King arrival in Milton Keynes.

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EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality