Tag Archives: new brunswick

Wednesday 14th September 2011 – SO HERE I AM …

… on my little spec at the Mactaquac Country Park not too far north-west of Fredericton. For the next few days I’m not sleeping rough but taking advantages of the faciities that £25 per night have brought me. You can see that I’ve already done one load of hand-washing.

And it could have been even cheaper too. “Would you like the senior discount?” asked the Park Ranger.
“What’s the age limit?” asked our hero
“65”
That’s my ego well and truly punctured, isn’t it?

But it’s quiet here. Not too many people around and the camp site is in the middle of a forest by a lake.

And that’s the view after you have driven about half a mile to rejoin the main road. Rolling down that hill in neutral can result in some impressive speeds and you need yo be careful that you don’t have an encounter with a deer because there are dozens of them about, which is good news for me and good news for Strawberry Moose, but for different reasons.

That’s the giant and controversial Mactaquac Dam, that was built in the 1960s to provide power for this part of the Saint John valley.

And controversial was probably not the word as it cut off a great many First Nation Canadians from their traditional waterborne navigation routes, damaged the salmon fisheries (according to some) and flooded the whole of the Saint John valley northwards.

The New Brunswick Department of Natural Resources was no help with my plans to build something ecological on my land here. But then again, I didn’t really expect it. It loks as if I’m really on my own so if people don’t like it, they can’t say that I haven’t tried.

Ooohhhhh!

We saw an REO Speedwagon in Newfoundland last year but that was quite ancient. This is a much more modern one, a Gold Comet and is probably from the late 1940s, I reckon, although what do I know?

Still, here it is parked up on someone’s lawn just outside Fredericton.

I came across a Value Village in Fredericton. There aren’t charity shops as there are in the UK, but all the charities seem to have banded together to have one communal shop which is much better from my point of view.

A pile of books, a pile of CDs and, at long last, for just $3:99, a whistling kettle. I’ll probably find that it has a leak in it.

And at Kent Hardware, I overheard a sales assistant talking to a colleague, so I went over to him. “Where do you come from?” I asked
“Manchester” he replied
“Thought so” I said. “I recognised the accent”.
So we had a chat and I mentioned that I came from Crewe.
“So what’s in Crewe?” he asked
“Absolutely nothing at all since I left” I replied.

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.

Monday 12th September 2011 – THE FUNDY SHORE

After I pleasant day at Colleen’s, I was back on the road once more

But I didn’t get far. It was lunchtime and I found a fish and chip shop.

And this place is noteworthy for two reasons

it sold real chips. Nice proper lumps of potatoes, not these horrible matchstick things
it was the first place that I have ever encountered in North America that had real malt vinegar on offer.

And they were delicious too. And it was really nice sitting outside in the sun.

First stop this afternoon was at Black’s Harbour where the ferry goes over to Grand Manan Island. And look what’s parked up over there. I’m sure that it’s the ferry that was under repair in Pictou last October when we there there.

And as a matter of fact, she is. It appears that there are two ships that ply across the waters, but only one in winter. And last winter she was laid up as her replacement was due in the spring. However the arrival of her replacement was rather late, and then the other one was involved in an accident back in May, so she was pressed back into service.

Her ultimate destination seems to be hauling gravel for a company in Quebec – the usual fate of many old ferries out here.

Whenever you see a road called “lighthouse road”, that’s a cue for a deviation – or, at least, it is in my case.

And I’m glad that I came down this road too because some of the scenery is magnificent. According to the church in the distance, this area here is called Beaver Harbour and if so, that’s an old Quaker settlement where a bunch of United Empire Loyalists came to settle.

And you can see why they came to settle here, cant you?

The road to the lighthouse was all closed off so I couldn’t go down there, but a thing like that isn’t likely to put me off.

Where there’s a will there are relatives, and so here I am round on the next headland down with a telephoto lens.

It’s Drews Head lighthouse, so I’m told, there has been a lighthouse on here since as recently as January 1876 although this is not the original. It was replaced by a skeletal tower-type of construction in the late 1960s and the fibreglass skin that you can see dates from 1984.

What we see right out there is the nuclear power station situated out on Point Lepreau. It’s the only nuclear power station in Atlantic Canada and is something else that was quite controversial in New Brunswick.

After years of debate, the New Brunswick Prime Minister Richard Hatfield announced that it was going to be built, regardless of whatever conclusions an Environmental Assessment committee reached. It was built in the early 1980s and cost three times the estimated amount.

It’s suffered all kinds of problems caused by, amongst other things, poor maintenance and employee sabotage, and there has been a variety of work-related accidents and illnesses. An 18 month overhaul, started in March 2008, took four and a half years to complete.

I went out there for a drive around to see what I could see, but it’s hidden in a forest so you can’t see it from close up.

Instead, I went off to see if I could find the famous waterfall on the Lepreau River.

The river is only about 30 kms long but has quite a descent over that distance, culminating in a drop of about 6 metres over this granite ledge.

Below the falls is the tidal limit of the Bay of Fundy and on the incoming tide you’ll find salt water down there. In fact, you can’t see it in this photo but the tide is coming in as I’m standing here.

When I was here ten years ago, I arrived after dark and left before light so I didn’t take a photo of my motel that night.

So here we are. This is the Island View motel where I stayed, on top of a hill to the south of the city of Saint John. I seem to remember that there wasn’t that much to write about this motel, but I don’t remember criticising the price either so it must have been a reasonable deal.

There’s a convenient hill just a little way around the corner and so I wandered off to see what I could see.

And sure enough, there’s a beautiful view down the river towards the city of Saint John (and you mustn’t forget to always write the name in full – that’s quite important).

You’ll notice all of the modern skyscrapers there. Saint John is the second-largest city in Atlantic Canada (after Halifax) and also one of the wealthiest

I can’t believe that I’ve managed to time my arrival so badly – when the tide is at mid-point.

Over there are the Reversing Falls – at low tide the level of the tide is about 4 metres below the level of the river and at high tide, it’s about 4 metres higher. Consequently, at either high or low tide, you have a spectacular spectacle right underneath the bridge.

I took thousands of photos here at Saint John, and one day I’ll post them all somewhere for you to see.

You’ll remember just now that I posted a photo of the city taken from distance, and showed you the tall modern buildings on the skyline. And so here, right in the centre of the city, we can have a view of them from closer up.

With there being water around, there are bound to be ships. And I’m not disappointed either because this is a huge harbour and there are dozens about.

However, never mind the ship for the moment – take a look beyond it at those shipping containers with the word TROPICAL written on them? They are, would you believe, going to feature in our story in a few days’ time.

But I hope that you aren’t expecting to see anything really historic in the city because, beautiful as it might be from this perspective on the waterfront, there’s very little in the city dating from before 1877

In that year, there was, for the benefit of those of you who know very little about the history of Canada, a devastating fire raged through the city and destroyed 1612 properties and caused $28,000,000 of damages.

Not like the fire that raged through Bentilee in Stoke on Trent, destroying 1612 houses and causing £30 worth of improvements.

Saint John was in the front line during the disputes with the USA. In the early days, the border between Canada and the USA had not been resolved, and the USA was claiming as far up the coast as the mouth of the Saint John River.

Of course, Britain was having none of that and the mouth of the river, especially on the shore, was quite heavily fortified.

This is Fort Howe, built during the War of American Independence following the Siege of Saint John in 1777, the “Howe” being the Commander of the British forces in North America at the time. It has the distinction of being the first site in Canada to be designated a National Historic Park.

Way over there in the distance (thanks to the zoom lens) is the Carleton Martello tower, one of only 9 now remaining in Canada.

This dates back to the War of 1812 and was built to guard the entrance to the harbour. It was in use during World War II as an anti-aircraft gun tower (the Canadian Government had more faith in the Luftwaffe’s technical abilities than the Luftwaffe did) and observation post, and during World War I had been a prison for deserters from the Canadian Army.

I did say that Saint John was one of the wealthiest cities in Atlantic Canada, and you can tell that by looking at some of the buildings around here.

This is the old city market, situated on Charlotte Street. and dates from 1876. It’s the umpteenth Market Hall in the city, and regular readers of this rubbish don’t need to be told what happened to the others.

The building deteriorated considerably after World War II but underwent a major renovation between 1987 and 1990.

Churches are always a good indication of the wealth of any community, and no-one is going to be disappointed by this church. This is the Trinity Anglican Church in Germain Street and was founded by United Empire Loyalists who fled here in 1783.

This imposing pile dates from 1880, and you don’t REALLY need me to tell you what happened to its predecessor, do you?

There’s a beautiful park right in the centre of the city – King’s Square, it’s called. And right in the middle is a bandstand, the King Edward VIII bandstand, dating from 1908.

It’s not very well-known, (so I shall publicise the fact) that I once made a bandstand. That’s right. I set fire to all of their chairs.

I’ll get my coat.

I said that there was plenty of evidence of former wealth in Saint John. And there is also plenty of evidence of current poverty too. This street here would not be out of place in any industrial city in the north of England.

If that’s not all, I stumbled upon a bingo hall which had a game actually in progress. The hall was pretty full too. Just how sad is that? It really did remind me of Stoke on Trent on a bad day.

And some ageing hippy has just come up to me. He was having a good look at my telephoto lens and, pointing to it, said “hi – you must be one of those long-distance photographers”.
“I’m from the UK” I replied. “Is that long enough?”

Bravely battling against the lack of light, I rejoin my vehicle and head out of the town, continuing my journey to the north-east and leaving behind me a load of photographs that I must deal with some time.

Just outside the town is the immense KC Irving oil refinery and LPG processing plant. It really does look like a desperate scar on the landscape, but as long as people want to drive around in cars, what do you expect?

A phrase involving omeletttes and eggs springs to mind.

And now it’s dark, I can’t see what I’m doing, but there’s a truck stop ahead. That’s going to be as good a place as any for me to lay down my weary head.

Sunday 11th September 2011 – SAINT ANDREWS

Dawn rose early over the Bayside ferry terminal, and so did I. It was rather cold in fact – a mere 8°C and that was probably what did it. But I do remember being completely comfortable last night and I didn’t feel a thing.

Anyway, I’ve made a note of this little place and added it into my little mental directory of suitable places to stay the night.

back down the road along the Saint Croix River, I can have a better view of Saint Croix Island, the Ile de Sainte Croix, than I did last night.

One thing that I could never understand however was the attitude of the British Government in giving so much away to the USA after the end of the War of Independence. Even though the Ile de Sainte-Croix was the site of the first-ever French colony on the coast of North America and thus by all accounts and rightful claims a French (and subsequently British by right of conquest) possession, the British allowed the USA to occupy it due to the fact that it was south of the main water course.

From here I went to Tim Horton’s for a coffee – and I wish that I hadn’t. 6 members of staff on duty, but only one serving and she was a trainee. And the guy in the queue in front of me orders, would you believe, 16 breakfasts. I was there for hours.

It’s the 11th of September today so Strawberry Moose gives the Americans a timely reminder, and also something else to think about.

A 21-gun salute across the Saint Croix River into USA territory at Eastport in Maine is just the thing for this morning and as usual, His Nibs is always keen to oblige whenever the need arises.

I’m at the blockhouse that’s situated on the bank of the Saint Croix River just outside St Andrews. This was one of the ones that was built in response to American aggression on the border here during the War of 1812 but by the time it was finished, the panic was over.

Just like everywhere else in Canada, it was badly damaged by fire in 1993 but was subsequently

There’s a long pier that goes out from the quayside here, and from there, there’s a very good view back towards the town.

The town dates from 1783 and was another United Empire Loyalist settlement created after the end of the War of Independence. In fact, it’s often said that some of the settlers brought their houses with them, floating them across the river on rafts.

This was where I was last night in the dark.

The town is laid out in the typical North American grid pattern that you will find in almost every city. And since then, it’s been a ferry port connected to Grand Manan island, a centre for irish immigration and, latterly, according to some tourist stuff that I had read, “Canada’s first seaside resort community”.

Talking of tourists, while I was wandering around, a tour bus from the USA pulled up and disgorged a load of passengers.

half an hour later, this boat sailed past me with a full load of passengers, presumably from the aforementioned, on their way to do a bit of whale-watching.

And I don’t know why the leader of the party needed a microphone to speak to his passengers – I could hear him quite clearly from over here.

Another thing that I do when I’m in a strange town is to look at the house prices. And I reckon that I might just be able to afford this kiddies’ garden play house.

Cheapest property in the Estate Agent’s window is a mere $63,900 and that’s just a small cabin, so residents of St Andrews can now breathe more easily. I will not be coming to join them. I can do better than that for a quarter of the price up on Mars Hill.

There’s a lighthouse here too at St Andrews. It’s the Pendlebury Lighthouse, right at the entrance to the Saint Croix River and dates from 1833.

It was disaffected in 1938 and gradually deteriorated. Some time in the early 1960s the sea wall was washed away and the lighthouse tilted over. It was eventually righted and in 2002 was moved 50 feet inland to protect it, as another section of the sea wall was observed to be on the point of collapse.

And that was just as well because in the following winter, the sea wall and the site of the lighthouse were washed away. Since then, there’s been a thorough restoration of the lighthouse and the sea wall and it’s been restored to its original location.

My route took me round by Passamaquoddy Bay and down a road that was signed as a “dead end”. The Lady Who Lives In The SatNav told me to do a U-turn in 500 metres, but she was clearly joking – or so I thought at the time.

It turns out that the island over there is called Minister’s Island and its claim to fame is that Covenhoven, the summer home of William van Horne.

And who might William van Horne be? Well, he was the power behind the Canadian Pacific Railway and this was where he came to relax.

And why is The Lady Who Lives In The SatNav not pulling my leg about this U-turn? That’s because you will have noticed the ramp over there on the island. It’s not a ramp as such, it’s part of a road because there’s a road that runs over there that is accessible at low tide. It’s only at high tide that the island is cut off.

A few times today, an old car that I thought might be a Ford A drove past me while I was wandering around. A short while later, I happened to stumble across it and I reckon that I may well be right.

It was sitting here in the drive of a house just outside St Andrews and it was not alone. It had several other old vehicles to keep it company, one or two of which will be quite exciting when they are finished.

There were a lot of roadworks going on here so I went for a closer look to see what was happening.

It’s the Digdeguash River that flows by here and it’s crossed by a bridge that has the date 1938 carved upon it. Although it crosses the river no more as it has collapsed. And it looks as if it’s been collapsed for quite a while too. hence all of the roadworks.

Next town down the road is St George and it has the most beautiful post office that I have ever seen.

St George is known as the “Granite Town” due to the fact that it had a granite quarry that for over 60 years gave up some of the best granite blocks ever seen in this part of Canada. What we see here in the post office, and some of the other buildings around here, are just seconds, believe it or not.

Just down the road at L’Etete is a ferry that goes over to Deer Island. I don’t unfortunately have the time to do over on it, so I’ll content myself with admiring it.

But interestingly, one of the members of staff told me that there’s another ferry on the other side of Deer Island that goes over to Eastport in Maine. Now isn’t that an interesting idea for an unusual crossing into Great Satan?

Down at the end of the road at Green’s Point is another lighthouse. It’s through the channel that ships travelling to St Andrews and St George used to travel and so it was logical that a light should be installed here.

At first, there was just a steam-powered foghorn installed, and the light followed as recently as 1903. The light was automated in 1996 and the keepers cottage is now used for holiday letting.

Whilst admiring the view and the water flowing by, I fell in with a guy from Toronto who was renting the cottage. He comes here every year and when you see the view you will understand why

While we were having a right old natter, our attention was drawn to three boats circling around about a mile or two offshore, with a disturbance in the water in the centre of the circle.

I took a photo with the telephoto lens and although I couldn’t see much, a little crop and enlargement produced something quite spectacular. According to my new friend, who was looking through his field glasses, we had been watching a Minke whale.

I had to dash back to St Andrews to meet Colleen but yet again I was sidetracked. I was having a good day for old vehicles, wasn’t I? In fact I’d seen many more today than those that I’m featuring on this page.

The engine was still in this one so I could tell that it’s a 6-cylinder side-valve (flathead) engine and judging by a few bits and pieces in the cab, it’s an International. And it’s just sitting here.

On a final note, Colleen and I went out for a meal (good job that I had some vegan cheese for my pizza) and we met a few of Strawberry Moose‘s admirers.

I stopped and took a few photos of them while His Nibs went over to make their acquaintance. Colleen gave him directions to her house and we went home for a coffee.

What a nice day!

Saturday 10th September 2011 – I’M OFF ON MY TRAVELS AGAIN

And not before time either because if I stay too long in one place I put down roots and that would never do, would it?

And that’s the view behind me – the plains of New Brunswick with the wind farm at Mars Hill over to the right of the photo. And my little share of Canada is on the very extreme right-hand edge of the photo, on the down slope of the mountain.

How happy am I?

The road beyond Woodstock is fairly uneventful until I turn off onto Highway 630 and then I’m presented with this road. 58 kilometres of it too and isn’t this just like old times on the Trans-Labrador Highway?

It’s so much better going this way than going by the motorway. I’m not in any particular rush and can take my time, and quite right too. But never mind what might be on the other side of the hill – I can’t even tell what might be just around the bend

I arrive at a junction with Highway 4 which is for some reason or other not on the SatNav. The turning to the left is signposted for the USA so I must be very close to the border, so I’m where I want to be;

As for the railway line, this is probably the line that runs from Saint John to Montreal via the USA and was used quite heavily in the winter when Montreal was frozen up in the days before icebreakers and all of the produce was shipped by rail to Saint John.

This is the Bayside wharf and ferry terminal judging by the sign. It’s private property but seeing as it’s open, I go for a wander around but there’s no-one about to ask any questions.

The drive down to the gates is quite secluded and so I’ve pencilled in a little place in the back of my mind in case I can’t find anywhere better to park up for the night. That gap in between those two trailers looks quite inviting

Over there is the Ile de Sainte Croix, Saint Croix Island. It’s significant in that as far as I can tell, it was the first coastal colony of the French, being settled in 1604 (all previous colonies were in the St Lawrence).

Of the 79 colonists, 35 died and so many others were close to death that they all moved away to Port Royal across the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia.

Ironically, Champlain described an autopsy that had been performed upon one of the deceased, and when a cemetery was discovered here fairly recently, one of the bodies uncovered had suffered the “injuries” in the post-mortem that were so well-described by Champlain.

And modern scientist, on examining the remains, concluded that most, if not all of the deaths, were due to scurvy

Now that I’m within touching distance of St Andrews it won’t do any harm to go for a look around, even if it the sun is setting quite quickly. Still, I can always do my best to take a photo to give you an idea of how it looks.

And I’m pretty disappointed in that there’s a 1920s type of Ford, which is probably an A-type, parked up at the side of the road and it’s too dark to take a photo of it. I hope that it will be there tomorrow.

But wait a minute – whatever is this?

There’s a red light here up in the sky – in the top right-hand corner of the photo is a steady red light (otherwise it would never have come out in the photo) rather than a flashing red light that you might see from an aeroplane.

I thought that it might be a radio mast – a Loran-C or something like that, but I came back here in the morning and there was nothing that could have been my red light. So it’s a mystery.

And in the absence of a better proposition, I’ve gone back to the wharf and that’s where I’ll be staying the night.

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Friday 9th September 2011 – HALL TOWERS

I had a bad night last night – I couldn’t get off to sleep at all for ages and it was most uncomfortable.

I had the feeling that I wasn’t the right way round in bed and I’ve no idea why. The astonishing thing though was that after this had preyed on my mind for ages I turned round and put my head to the tailgate of the Dodge – and I went out like a light and that was that until the alarm went off, except for having to go for a gypsy’s at 04:00.

Today it’s a beautiful day, brilliant bright sunlight and the solar panel on the roof of the Dodge is doing its stuff.

It’s charged up the laptop and it’s charged up the phone (which I’m now using as a mp3 player and why not? that was a good plan to buy a micro SD card) and it’ll charge up the spare battery before I’ve finished.

This morning I spent in measuring up. I have a few plans as to what I intend to do but for that I need some measurements. My measurements differ slightly from those of the surveyor so I reckon that it’s my measurements that are out, not his.

And then we had a mega-two-hour performance of playing “hunt the keys” that involved emptying right out the Dodge and eventually I found them stuck inside the map.

That makes me too late for the lawyer unfortunately, but instead I can go for a wander round.

There’s a big bridge over the river here at Florenceville – part of it is covered but the rest is a more-modern open girder bridge. It’s the covered bit that receives most attention from photographers, and so I’ll take a photo from less well-known western side of the river

And here’s something that I’ve been wanting to see.

This is the Florenceville District Office of the New Brunswick District Office of Natural Resources. They have a wind turbine at the back here and that’s what made me stop and go for a chat.

Apparently it’s nothing to do with them but a pilot study installed by the people at the University of New Brunswick about 5 years ago. They are having these pilot studies in a few places so it seems, and the energy is all fed into the National Grid directly. They here know nothing about it, but he will have someone from Fredericton call me back.

Of course I’m going to be in Fredericton later on this week for this Blues Festival so that’s fine. I shall have to go to the University of New Brunswick, shan’t I?

I found that garage that Darren told me to go to see, and I wasn’t all that impressed with what was on offer. I’ll have to pass on this for now and think again.

At the tyre place everyone was still there working until long after 18:00. We then went back to the house but we couldn’t go “over across” for a meal as arranged because Amber had a friend Abbi over for a sleepover and she had no passport with her.

But I was fed and watered and stayed the night, for which I am grateful as always. Darren and I were watching these documentaries about the unexplained – what is this Aurora flying saucer accident all about?

Wednesday 7th September 2011 – WHAT A DAY!

I thought that I suffered from claustrophobia but having spent almost 24 hours inside the Dodge and only going outside once, it’s clearly not the case.

I didn’t move a muscle – hardly an inch away from the side of the vehicle. Mind you, with the weather that we are having it’s hardly any surprise.

It p155ed down all day long and the most I managed to do was to go out and fit the solar panel on the roof of the car. And that was when I had my only interaction with anyone. The dog from over the road came across the road barking at me.

Eventually the lady owner came out and called it back in. “It’s not a problem” I shouted to her but for all the notice that she took of me I might as well have just held my breath. They are a weird lot around here, that’s for sure.

The sun finally made some kind of brief appearance late in the evening, peering out from underneath the cloud right over the wind turbines on Mars Hill.

I suppose that it’s symbolic in a certain sense, but I dunno.

But on the positive side, I’m nice and comfortable in the Dodge and I’ve had a nice relaxing day not doing much. But it was a good decision so far to hire a vehicle like this and kit it out as a camper. How it all pans out of course remains to be seen.

Tuesday 6th September 2011 – I WENT OFF …

… for a little drive today as I had a few things to do.

But on my way out towards Florenceville I caught a good view of Centreville in the rear mirror and so I couldn’t resist the opportunity to take a photograph of the town. I don’t recall taking a photograph of the town from here before so I need to put that right.

In Florenceville my lawyer was unavailable but I was able to open a bank account at the bank next door. Mind you, it took them long enough and a couple of good kicks to the computer in order to do it, but there it is.

I now have 200 dollars in a Canadian bank account, and I’ll be adding to that here and there as I go around.

I took the old road down alongside the Saint John River down to Hartland and there’s a really good spec along there to stop and take a photo of the covered bridge there.

It’s the world’s longest covered bridge at 391 metres long and, much to everyone’s surprise, it wasn’t covered when it was built. The covering was actually added about 20 years later, but not many people know that.

There used to be a railway line, maintained by the Canadian Pacific, that ran up along the Saint John River.

From what I understand, which may or may not be the case, that the CPR was looking for a way out of its obligations out here beyond Montreal and in the Spring of 1987, the weather came to the aid of the company where the spring ice-flow took half of the bridge down just outside Woodstock.

That was the best excuse that the company could wish for, and the line was abandoned immediately.

At the Planning Office in Woodstock, I was out of luck. It had been closed for Labour Day and was not due to re-open until Wednesday.

I wasn’t the only person to be taken by surprise by that. A local came in with some business to do, and he was quite upset. He had a good go at Public Servants and suggested that we change our jobs. How could I disagree?

However, it wasn’t a completely wasted journey down here. Parked up here is a Chevrolet 1300 pick-up. No idea about it really but I imagine that it’s from the 1960s. But that’s just a pure guess.

It’s had a makeover and is being used as a mobile advertising display, and that’s not a bad idea. It’s certainly attracted my attention, and probably the attention of many others too.

In the Health Food shop that has just opened, they didn’t have any vegan cheese but the girl there set me right about the whole kind of different things. There’s nothing much exciting going on around here but the Harvest Jazz and Blues Festival starts on the 13th and she thinks that there might be camping in one of the forest parks about 20 mins from Fredericton. That should be useful.

She was telling me about all these places to go to in Woodstock “its near here and just by there” and she noticed the puzzled look on my face.
“How long have you been in Woodstock?” she asked
“Ohhh, about 15 minutes”, I replied.

I do know that there’s a swimming pool here and so I went for a swim – and a good wash and shower – but its surely no surprise to you to learn that it’s closed for maintenance. It closed down the day I arrived and it opens up the day after I leave.

You couldn’t make it up.

But that girl was right about the vegan cheese in the Atlantic Superstore. And while I was waiting in the queue at a shop I noticed a magazine that told me that Canada’s biggest worry is the grief “given to us by our best friends across the border”. Why is this a surprise? I’ve been saying this for years

If I do come to live in Canada, I’ll be okay for work here. I could have a job on the techie counter at Walmart’s Woodstock branch because I knew more about the products on sale than the girl on the counter. It was me who had to insert the additional memory card into someone’s Blackberry and then program it – and I’d never even seen a Blackberry before.

I bought a 8GB micro-SD card for my Samsung mobile phone and wasn’t that an excellent idea? I now have an MP3 player for far cheaper than I would ever have imagined anywhere else.

also were having a DVD sale – piles of DVDs on sale for $5 – I bought 4 – 1 box contained 25 John Wayne films, another had 20 spaghetti westerns, a third had 9 commando B-features the fourth had 8 B-movie westerns. I’m set up for the long boring nights now.

But it’s a surprise to see who is starring or otherwise appearing in some of these films. There’s Klaus Kinski, father of Natasha of course, Lee van Kleef, Robert Mitchum, Van Johnson, Michael Rennie, Dana Andrews, Richard Conte, Lloyd Bridges, Chuck Connors, Cesar Romero, Jose Torres, Eddy Chandler, Walter Brennan, Jack Elam, Ricky Nelson, Slim Pickens, Burt Lancaster, John Ireland (is he father of Jill?) to mention just a dozen all of whom went on to greater things.

And that is of course before we mention John Wayne himself.

On the way back to my little plot of land I have a bizarre encounter with two young boys riding bicycles towards me on the wrong side of the road.

That wasn’t all that I encountered either.

Away in the distance was a rainbow. There had been a storm somewhere and the wind had blown the residue towards me, and the sun had caught it full-on. I hope that the photo comes out as well as it looked in reality because it really was a nice thing to see.

I’d come up the back way from Woodstock, missing out Centreville, and just before I joined the road that goes down to the USA border I came across the Presque Ile stream and a lovely girder bridge that was also worth a photo.

We have different issues about whether or not this image will come out. I can’t believe how late it was and the light was going already. I hope that this photo comes out properly too.

Monday 5th September 2011 – I AM NOT ALONE

There’s a security camera and radio transmitter now sprung up on the USA side of the border and it’s part-pointing onto the crossing just here and part-pointing onto my property.

It looks as if I’m going to have to have an accident while cleaning my crossbow or dismantling a spring-loaded container. But I’m sure that I can think of some other ways of distracting the attention of the people who stare at these security screens all day

But it’s nice to think that I’m so popular, isn’t it?

This is a good opportunity to show you exactly how I have arranged the Dodge so that I can live in it.

Firstly, why I chose a Dodge Grand Caravan was because the seats fold flat into the floor and there’s enough room to dance in here when you do that, without any obstructions at all to get in the way.

There’s the bed, and the double mattress that stops me rolling down the side and keeps me warm and out of contact with the cold window. The suitcase cooking stove is under the bed and the little table for cooking is right there to hand.

And if you don’t know what the flower pot is for, then you’ve clearly not been keeping up with things.

From the side, you’ll see the tarpaulin that has been cut in two halves and string run through the holes to make curtains.

The suitcase fits under the bed if I were to remove the Ryobi plus one drill that’s in the way. And there’s a brolly in the cup holder in the door.

We have two big storage boxes (there’s a third too between the head of the bed and the back of the passenger seat) and that’s where the food, the cooking items and the tools are stored. We have a Ryobi charger, a small mains inverter and also a power pack with jump leads, an internal battery and a small built-in inverter for powering the laptop and charging up the mobile phone.

I’m all set up for everything with this little set-up.

As for my neighbours, they aren’t very sociable so far. I was expecting them to come over for a chat – after all, I introduced myself to them yesterday, but so far, no such luck. So, in view of the miserable weather, I’ve had a quiet day “at home”.

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.

-1

Saturday 3rd September 2011 – CHARLEVOIX

This is my spec from last night – the big Tourist Office on the slope down from Cap Tourmente into the Charlevoix. And it was just like home too with a huge hanging cloud hovering over me.

And while parking up at a place like this might be a good idea in theory, it falls down in reality because there is no coffee machine, and that is unthinkable. What kind of welcome is this for tourists?

By the time that I had driven down the hill, through the town of Baie St Paul and up the hill on the other side, the hanging cloud had gone.

There’s a big parking place just along there with a magnificent view of the bay, the interior and also the town, and anyone standing on this point for more than 30 seconds will immediately understand why it is that the Charlevoix is the most beautiful place in the world.

A beautiful drive along the coast brought me to the town of La Malbaie. I came past here on my first journey to Canada but I was in a little hurry and so never stopped. However, today I took the opportunity to stop and go for a wander around.

It’s a really nice town, quite pretty too, and its claim to fame is that it was here that I handed out my first business card to a potential client.

As the mid morning sun cleared away the fog in the river, the views became spectacular. especially across the St Lawrence River.

And there is the distance is the St Lawrence Ferry that crosses between St Simeon and Riviere du Loup. We sailed on that on my first trip here too, smashing through the ice on the way across. But this year, I have another ferry crossing planned.

And I don’t mean this ferry either.

We’ve been on this ferry quite a few times and we are going on it again. It’s the Saguenay Ferry that crosses the mouth of the Saguenay River on the north bank of the St Lawrence at Tadoussac. It’s a symbolic ferry in that the river formerly marked the unofficial dividing line between “civilisation” and the backwoods.

It’s symbolic for other reasons, because look what else I’ve found here.

This is called a T-Rex and it’s a car, believe it or not, made in Quebec. About 50 of these are produced every year and if I lived here in Canada I would be the first in the queue for one of these. And of course, it would have to be called “The White Swan”, for the most obvious of reasons.

And that’s not all of the excitement either. There was a mobile home and caravan on board the ferry and you will notice the number plates. It’s come all of the way from Munich in Germany.

I went over to interrogate the owners and it appears that they have crossed the Atlantic with a company called Seabridge, the vehicle being shipped by Atlantic Containers in a service that runs from Hamburg and a few other places over to Halifax and Montreal.

I shall have to look into this.

This rusting hulk that has come sailing into Les Escoumins is the boat that is taking me over to Trois Pistoles on the south bank of the St Lawrence.

It’s quite an interesting ferry. Tickets are sold in the petrol station in the town, check-in is done by a man who drives up in a car, uses the inside of his hatchback as a desk, and then drives off again afterwards

As for the ship – well, she’s seen better days, and that’s what makes this crossing really interesting. Anyway, I pick up my oar, I’m chained to my seat and off we go.

Just by way of a change, there were all kinds of exciting people on the ferry and I fell in with this American couple from Massachusetts.

Strawberry Moose won some new admirers of course, because he is such a gregarious moose, and the feeling was mutual.

We had a lengthy chat, during the course of which they mentioned that they just driven the Trans-Labrador Highway. They had done the trip in reverse, so they said, which made me think that they must have had a really good pair of rear-view mirrors, because there was no obvious crick in the guy’s neck.

As the sun goes down on the St Lawrence River, Strawberry Moose surveys the scene.

Trois Pistoles is getting closer and closer and night is drawing in, so I won’t have much chance of finding a home fortonight. What I’ll have to do is to drive over the mountains tonight to the other side of Quebec on the New Brunswick frontier and see what presents itself.

I’m full of optimism, so all is well.

This is just a short account of everything that happened today. I took tons of photos and wrote loads of notes, so if you want to see it all, you need to go to this page and follow the account from there.

Wednesday 17th August 2011 – My signs arrived today.

You can see one of them on the front wing of the Minerva. They are small but nevertheless they are pretty eye-catching. All I hope for now is that I’m not offered a white car. That would be unfortunate.

I also had a phone call this afternoon. Someone asking me if they could bring their car round for rustproofing.
“What number have you dialled?” I asked, somewhat bewildered.
“That number that’s in the directory – 982-2129”
The penny dropped
“Ahh – you’ve dialled the wrong number. This is 982-2199”
And so my Canadian number is not only up and working, the transfer to my French mobile phone works too and that’s exciting. And a beautiful sing-song Atlantic Canadian accent it was as well – made me homesick and I started to become all broody. I’m clearly out of place here in Europe.

In case you are wondering, the phone number quoted belongs to Portland Rust Check, 51 Williams Ave, Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. And her car will need rustproofing if she drives it across the Atlantic to me. It reminds me of when I was talking to Colleen – this woman who I met in Labrador last year. She expressed surprise that I had travelled the Trans-Labrador Highway in Casey who, as you know, is a Chrysler PT-Cruiser.
“Most of the time it’s down to the driver” I told her. “You can take a motor vehicle almost anywhere if you have a decent driver. In fact, for my next voyage, I shall be crossing the Atlantic on a motor bike”.

So what with computing this morning, I spent some time making a collection of tools and so on to take to Canada with me. Not that I really need them because I can soon buy some more, but it’s just that I have a baggage allowance of 25kgs and so far I’ve managed to pack not even 10kgs. It’s pointless going with an empty suitcase when there’s stuff I can be taking with me. I’ve organised a “drop” in Montreal at about $8 (that’s about a fiver) a week where I can leave them for my next visit. I intend to leave all of my stuff there because there’s no point in dragging it back and forth across the Atlantic and I’ll be going back quite frequently.

This afternoon I was pointing again and now the ladder is up past the window. It’s quite high and fairly precarious so I’m doing my best not to look down but it really is a long way up. And don’t forget – the ladder is standing on the roof of the lean-to and that’s about 8 feet off the ground.

At about 18:15 the sun went in, and I noticed that the temperature in the solar shower was 38°:C. That called for a shower to wash all of the dust out of my eyes.

home grown potatoes les guis virlet puy de dome france No point in going back pointing the stonework after that, and so I dug up all of the new potatoes. There aren’t all that many of them, so what’s happening there? Has someone else been eating them? Anyway, I’ve left them outside to dry and tomorrow I’ll be cleaning them and storing them away.

But what’s the plant on the left-hand side? is it a Parsnip? What’s that doing there in the potato patch? It’s nothing that I’ve planted and prior to the potato patch, that land was part of the meadow so it’s not anything that anyone else has planted. How bizarre. For its size, it came out of the soil quite easily too.

Now that the new-potato patch is empty, tomorrow I’ll be planting chicory in it. Some nice big witloofs, I hope. I also have tomatoes and chilis too in the cloche and that’s all exciting.

In other news, my campaigning over the last few months seems to have paid dividends at last. I have someone from the New Brunswick Government wanting to see me – about the school house that’s on my land. As you know, I’m trying to find it a good home because it’s all pretty rare and historically important. He’s called Bill Hicks and so I’m half-ecpecting to find a Yankee comic shrouded in cigarette smoke.

Yes, it’s all starting to come together and I’m looking forward to being back on the North American road again.

-3

Tuesday 2nd November 2010 – HAVING SURVIVED …

… last night’s motel I woke up to the coldest day of the journey so far (Labrador excluded of course).

It’s minus 1°C as I leave the motel and I’m now in winter gear – thick jacket, hat and gloves.

I’m just amazed at how quickly winter has arrived here.

So off for a quick tour of Dalhousie and its neighbouring town, Campbelltown, where the predominant language spoken here is, as you might expect, … errrr … French, even though this is New Brunswick.

And crossing the head of Chaleur Bay into Quebec, the predominant language in the town in which you arrive is … errrr … Mikmac.

Strawberry Moose and I had the pleasure of being introduced to the new tribal chief, the old one having just won the world’s tea-drinking championship, he died in his teepee.
“I am Chief Sitting Duck” said the chief
“How” I replied
“How” replied Strawberry Moose.
“And this is my favourite squaw Minnimama”
“How” I replied
“How” replied Strawberry Moose
“I bought her for two buffalo skins” said the chief
“How” I replied
“Never mind how” said Strawberry Moose. “Where?”

And so then along the north bank of the Baie de Chaleur, or the south shore of the Gaspe Peninsula, depending upon how you look at it.

The first European to set foot here was Jacques Cartier in his epic voyage of 1534 (although if he did indeed set his foot in everywhere that he is supposed to have set his foot he would never have had time to have written about it)

This north bank (or south shore) is really beautiful and you can’t move along it without tripping over a motel ir a guest house. There are thousands of them.

And quite right too – it is one of the most scenic parts of whatever passes for the Canadian Riviera and well worth the visit, and it’s not all that often that you hear me say that.

Highlight of today’s part of the voyage has to be the town of Perce, and this was where I was headed.

Cartier also had a landfall here and this time there would seem to be no doubt at all about this – he describes perfectly the offshore island with the hole through the middle, and it truly is spectacular, so I’m not surprised that he remarked upon it.

I’m now in a motel in the town of Gaspe – the eastern-most town on the peninsula.

Gaspe is quite a historic place, a well-known former port but, alas, with everything demolished in the 1970s and much of it not yet rebuilt, as modern ships are far too big to use the new port.

And I have realised that tomorrow, if I can get a place on the late evening ferry to Baie Comeau from Matane, this will be my last night south of the St Lawrence.

That is rather a depressing thought, you know.

-2

Monday 1st November 2010 – THE ONE THING …

… that I’ve learnt from stopping on my way around is that it’s very hard to start up again. And it was indeed hard to go back on the road. But this morning it was a case of having to. Turning on the radio and hearing Lindisfarne‘s
“I have no-one to call my friend”
“The road I travel has no end”
“and so I turn my face up to the sun”
“and walk on down the road to Kingdom Come”
that didn’t help matters.

I really enjoy my time in Centreville with Rachel and her family and friends. It’s the closest thing that I have ever had to a family and I am always really sorry to leave

And leave I must, unless I can pull off something truly spectacular, and I do have a cunning plan, from what I have learned while I have been over here.

In 2003 I started my circuit in Bathurst and that was where I was aiming for. I wanted to poke around the town as I didn’t see it then due to the thick fog that was there.

But the road across New Brunswick back to the east coast was exciting, due in no small part to the fact that we had heavy snow in places. Winter is truly here and how quickly it has changed since Thursday when I was wandering around Woodstock in shirt sleeves.

As for Bathurst, it’s tempting to say that I didn’t really miss all that much, but then I did pick a really bad time to call.

The big paper mill had closed down suddenly without much notice, and there was a big industrial dispute going on about a big hotel or something that had also closed down leaving scores of people stranded. No town could look its best under such circumstances, and I should perhaps have postponed my visit until another time when the town has had sufficient time to sort itself out.

So after Bathurst I had a leisurely drive along the coast northwards, admiring the wind turbines across the Baie des Chaleurs in the Gaspesie, all bathed in the glorious evening sunlight.

And as I was driving through Dalhousie and debating whether to stop at one of two B&Bs at $65 or a motel “starting from $69” in Campbelltown, I came across a motel at $59 that wasn’t in the tourist guide.

And I’m not surprised either – but then again I’ve stayed in worse and there’s the internet and a TV (it’s Monday Night Football) and it might be tatty and so on but it’s clean, and I’ll have my money’s worth here without a doubt.

Remember that I’m on the economy package and I’m going for “value for money”. However if I don’t blog tomorrow you will know that I will have been stabbed to death in the shower.

-3

Sunday 31st October 2010 – I ATTENDED HALLOWEEN TODAY

First time ever that I have done something as North-American as this.

After what can only be described as a leisurely brunch (with my “never ever call me before midday on Sunday” I would fit in so well here) we all sat down at the table and started pumpkin-carving.

First job was to top and then to empty 15 or so pumpkins and that led to seeds and flesh everywhere. Darren had a pile of images and so we photocopied them and used them as templates for the carving.

We sellotaped them to the pumpkins, pricked out the patterns and then joined up the dots with a small knife. And considering that I’d never ever done it before, my group of bats, my witch and my “screaming skull” came out quite well, and I was so impressed. Little Amber even did a freehand carving of Strawberry Moose (you can see him modelling for his portrait) and that was pretty impressive too.

Darren’s friend George took a few pumpkins down to the gate and I set the rest up in the living room and put tea lights in them so that I could photograph them.

On a long exposure (which counteracted the flickering of the flame) the image came out really well and the effect is pretty good.

After Hannah and I had lined the drive with flaming pumpkins Rachel and I took Zoe, Amber and Amber’s friend (and Strawberry Moose who had donned a tutu and a bumble bee headgear for the occasion) out trick-or-treating.

It was all terribly tacky as you might expect but it was also fun and you can’t spend a Halloween amongst a family here in North America and not participate in the entertainment.

And tomorrow I’m moving on. My time here is up. I’ll be driving to Bathurst where my journey started in 2003 and heading north from there. The idea is to go around the shore of Northern New Brunswick and then round the Gaspe peninsula to Matane and then take the ferry over to Baie Comeau, where the adventure really began, and that will be the Great Circle route completed.

-3

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: new brunswick

Wednesday 14th September 2011 – SO HERE I AM …

Tuesday 13th September 2011 – HERE I AM …

Monday 12th September 2011 – THE FUNDY SHORE

Sunday 11th September 2011 – SAINT ANDREWS

Saturday 10th September 2011 – I’M OFF ON MY TRAVELS AGAIN

Friday 9th September 2011 – HALL TOWERS

Wednesday 7th September 2011 – WHAT A DAY!

Tuesday 6th September 2011 – I WENT OFF …

Monday 5th September 2011 – I AM NOT ALONE

Sunday 4th September 2011 – TRAVELLING TO MY NEW HOME

Saturday 3rd September 2011 – CHARLEVOIX

Wednesday 17th August 2011 – My signs arrived today.

Tuesday 2nd November 2010 – HAVING SURVIVED …

Monday 1st November 2010 – THE ONE THING …

Sunday 31st October 2010 – I ATTENDED HALLOWEEN TODAY

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