Dancing a jig on the ocean floor

Day 6: Moncton to Saint John
Total mileage at the beginning of the day: 1,488

Well, I can tell I'm back in true civilization because I shaved my legs for the first time in a week. I felt compelled to in my IKEA show/hotel room. However, to balance things, I'm wearing the same outfit for the third day in a row. I totally overpacked. I'm just alternating between two outfits. I'm a pretty minimalist packer anyway, so I'm annoyed at myself, knowing I could have gone one bag lighter.

In the morning, I rushed over to Hopewell Rocks. Along with 4 billion other tourists. I can't believe it's been 10 years since I've been here. I'd forgotten exactly how crowded it gets.

Hopewell Rocks is a national park that features some awesome geography. Visitors are able to go down a four-story set of stairs to walk on the ocean floor when the tide is out. If you're really daring, you can walk right down to the water. And potentially fall knee-deep in red mud. There were a lot of those people out there. Incidentally, there's a hose/wash off spot when you get back up the stairs. Because you will get muddy. I saw one woman down there in kitten heels. Another, ankle-deep in mud, wearing a Coach bag. We're walking on the ocean floor, people. No one cares if you look good. Because you don't--we all look awkward as hell in mud and stumbling over rocks.

The view from the top of the stairs. The tops of the "flower pots"
become islands at high tide.

"Wait--is that the same natural beauty we saw in Highlands Nat'l Park the other day?"
Yes. Yes, it is.

It's pretty crowded, down there on the ocean floor. But walking up the stairs, with so many people pushing and pulling, is what made me hate humanity. Also, I didn't realize that this is one place where I would feel lonely and a little awkward. There are just so many families and friends and couples. I was constantly in the way of someone else's picture. 

I needed to get away. Fast. I drove from Cape Hopewell to Alma, right on the edge of Fundy National Park.

I had to wait an eternity for a man eating a sandwich in the entrance to move. So please enjoy this picture.

Cape Enrage! From the parking lot because I'm too cheap to pay for entrance.

I saved my appetite for Alma. The food at the Tides is not cheap, but it's really good. Mmm, scallops. They have a very different kind of batter than anyplace else--the waitress says the chef won't give away the secret.

While I was nibbling on my perfect scallops, I watched another waitress talk to a group of Brazilians at the next table. One of the men had ordered a lobster, and when it came out, he asked how to eat it. The waitress was marvelous--she took a utensil and pointed out where to begin, what to eat/not eat, etc. I watched how kind and patient she was, and how grateful everyone at the table was. And then I remembered that Boston has a restaurant "famous" for its rude ("salty") waitresses (and some restaurants that probably are more on the infamous side for the same reason). While I admit to being a surly New Englander, I was really touched by this waitress. It made for some introspection.

I've found myself to be so mellow on this trip. I'm fully relaxed, and pretty much everyone I talk to is super friendly. It changes how I interact with people. I find myself talking to strangers almost everywhere I go, saying things when I normally would keep thoughts to myself. Could it be that the road has softened me?

Besides eating, Alma is also a great place to watch the tide come in swiftly.

Before lunch

After lunch

As soon as the tide came in a bit, all the lobster boats came into the harbor in quick succession.

And people hovered around the lobster boats, some to buy fresh off the boat, I'm guessing. Others snapping pictures of the men at work.

Really? The stars and bars in NB?

But the tide was still really low, so here's some more perspective (because I, clearly, cannot get over how awesome the tide change is).

Then, I looked over to the beach, just in time to see a boy walk away after having written in the sand. It's upside down, and some words I can't make out, but it essentially says, "I'm sad. My dad is sick." And beside it in small letters, "Pray for him." All this left on a beach just about to get covered over with quickly rising water.

Quick, put on some music and head into the national park.

From Fundy National Park, you can see Nova Scotia across the bay. I'm pointing to
the approximate location of Comeauville, from which my family hails.

It's been hard today. Bittersweet. I'm acutely aware that I'm heading home. And I'm glad for that because I miss home and the kiddos. But I'm already thinking about my next visit.

It was an eventless drive to Saint John. I ended up at an Econolodge. People were friendly, but the room looked like someone's grandmother had had a field day decorating in florals. And then I have a question. What exactly is this about?

Just a couple bits of tissue sitting out blatantly on the couch.

I admit, I didn't have the energy to even really visit Saint John. Another thing to put on the list for next time. The day went quickly, and so did my stamina. As the sun went down, I watched Saint John from my hotel room, a couple exits down the highway. It sparkles like a Light Bright. And further south, a perfect view of the water. Always by the water.

xo

Regardez le plus grand homard de la monde!

Somewhere, one of my former French teachers just got a shiver and doesn't know why.

Day 5: Baddeck, NS, to Moncton, NB
Total mileage at the beginning of the day: 1,197.7

After all the wilderness yesterday, I pulled into Baddeck, and then pulled right back out. I just wasn't ready for so many people and cars and decisions. But that meant that this morning I woke in a nameless motel with shite water pressure. I decided to pretend it was angels spitting on me from heaven...

First stop: The Village Highlands Museum in Iona!

I am probably not the girl you want to tag along with at a living history museum. Because I'm actually really interested in the hows and whys of the days of old. So I ask lots of questions. And I totally dig that these people have a job to do, so I frame my questions as though I'm in the 18th century too, not standing in Keens, holding a Canon PowerShot. "Oh, your father's away at sea? When was the last time you saw him?" and "You're leaving Scotland for the new country, eh? What promises lie there?"

Yup. I'm that person.

While you write yourself a note to never travel with me, ever, I'll have Gerty roll the tape.

"Crap. It's the sheep whisperer."

"Oh, hell if I know what we used to dye the yarn."

"What's the Gaelic translation for 'Girl asks too many damn questions'?"

"Dissatisfied humbugs in the shape of politicians..."

I swear, we had very similar wallpaper in the house where I grew up.
And the time period was the same.

K: Bert, you okay? You don't look so good.
B: Kel, I'll tell ya, my balls are killing me.

The museum was awesome. And though the ladies look a little dour here, they were all very kind and put on a good show. They really knew their stuff, and I was as happy as a kid at Disney.

Then I hit the parking lot:

Masshole, 10 o'clock.

I was struggling at this point, trying to decide what direction to take. So I let the weather be my guide.

Big storms were headed our way, so I decided this was really the day for driving. I chose to head southwest and bust through the storm, in hopes of coming out sunny on the other side. But it meant making some tough decisions.

I'd much rather head toward Whycoughsomuch, but I know I need to head south.

And the timing was good. The entire Canadian sky was starting to look like I do when there's no chocolate in the house.

I won't lie--passing back over the causeway to mainland Nova Scotia was a little emotional. I did about 2/3 of what I wanted to do and I don't know when I'll make it back. But then Sly and the Family Stone came on the kPod, and I was grooving once again.

Now I'm at a point on this trip where I'm kind of eating one meal early in the afternoon and nibbling on some almonds or fruit otherwise. So that one meal needs to count. Once I got to Truro, I made my way to Murphy's in a random strip mall, per the guide book. The fish and chips were perfect.

Owner: How was everything?
Me: As good as the guide book said it would be.
Owner: Bless your heart.

We talked about the beauty of Nova Scotia's coastline, and when he heard I was from New Hampshire, he compared a town here to Durham.

Me: Durham? That's where I live!
Owner: Bless your heart.

He was adorable! Everyone, go find Murphy's in Truro (88 Esplanade) and get some good fried seafood. Keep that man in business!

Dear Canada, you're killing me with all of these face
cutout opportunities I can't be part of because I'm solo.

So back on the road, I decided to be a tough guy and make it all the way to Amherst, NS. But then I hit the storm. Holy flooded scary driving, Batman! I decided life is good, so why fuck it up and get killed on the highway? I took a back road (rt 4?) toward Amherst and enjoyed having a road entirely to myself. And when I needed gas, I pulled over at the Irving and . . .

So we meet again.

The torrential downpours had subsided by now, and I was close enough to Amherst that I figured, why not try to get to Moncton? It broke my little heart to leave my beloved Nova Scotia, so I took one detour to lift my spirits.

World's largest lobster, Shediac, NB

*pinch* *pinch*

Photobombed by a perturbed pirate!

I look a little worse for wear in that one.

Finally, I ended up in Moncton, NB. And I don't know where you slept last night, but I slept in an IKEA showroom.

Dear Motel 6, wood floors in a hotel are a terrible idea. I could hear the upstairs
neighbors pole dancing and tossing horse shoes well into the night.

 Also,

Doh! Masshole, 1 o'clock. Can't shake these bastards.

 xo

Puffins! Puffins! Puffins!

Day 4: Meat Cove to Baddeck
Total mileage at the beginning of the day: 1,125.1

Despite the good cheer with which I went to bed, I did not sleep well. The wind picked up very suddenly, and I had nightmares that vacillated between large wildlife sniffing the tent and the wind whipping me right over the cliff and into the ocean. I got up at some point to put extra stakes in the ground for good measure.

I woke around six with the sun already up pretty high. I watched for whales, until a fellow camper (the only other one up) walked by and said the whales hadn't been by in three days. Not enough fish in the bay. Damn it! I had read that whales could be seen from shore, and it's true! Just not by me.

Dear LL Bean, you can send any royalties c/o Mill Girl Musings

It's hard to see, but this guy is awesome--just an inflated mattress and sleeping bag.

So I rolled out around 7, anxious to start my day and knowing what a long ride it is out of Meat Cove. But it's so damn beautiful.

If you want to know what Nova Scotia looks like, this is pretty much it. Everywhere.

I checked out John Cabot's landing spot.

I eventually got back to Cape North, where I had breakfast alongside some locals and a table of folks speaking Spanish. Then it was back to the Cabot Trail. I checked out Neil's Harbour and some back roads there because I was looking for something verrry specific.

There's a great website (airbnb.com) that allows you to rent someone's home instead of staying in a hotel. Noelle and I used it to get that crazy apartment in Montreal last summer. This year, I looked initially at that website to see what CB was offering. And I found something incredible online:

A refurbished '64 Airstream with separate outbuilding for writing, dining, etc.

Sigh. I love you, little Airstream.

And now that I know where it is, I can't stop thinking about coming up here for a week and writing from this little spot in the middle of nowhere. On the other hand, however, I would miss some of the interactions I've had with people at campgrounds and motels. I guess there's always the co-op in Neil's Harbour.

Driving back into the Highlands Park, I had my first wildlife encounter!

Hey, get back here! I have a blog to write, buddy. I need you.

Two moose, one bunny. Not bad.

And as I got down to the Ingonish area...

Erm, that speck is an eagle. Just hanging out on a lake.

Another eagle swooped right over the car as I was going around a hairpin turn on a cliff. Guess who was a jerk and tried to grab the camera *points at self*. I know, I know. I had a talk with me about my behavior.

So I drove and I drove, and I checked out some artisan shops and did some holiday shopping. Beautiful stuff. I'm really digging the woodwork and pewter all over NS. I also checked out the Gaelic school, where (surprise!) a kid was playing bagpipes in the parking lot.

Eventually, I made it down to the Bras D'Or area (bra-door) and drove up my own mountain.

Boo-yah!

And went by my own motel.

New name for the blog?

And I followed pictures of puffins along the side of the road and was just in time to walk aboard this:

To take a tour run by this father/son team:

The captain is awesome. Serious, but with a wicked dry sense of humor.

Here is what we saw:

I stole these pics from the web because my pictures are terrible. What, you don't believe me?

The two specks are bald eagles.

What, you don't see about 20 puffins here?

The only wildlife shot that didn't suck.

Looks like Auntie Kiki needs a fancier camera...

Back to the puffins--Holy shit, I want one. They're so flipping cute. I just want to put one in my pocket. And there were hundreds of them. They were flying by the boat, swimming in the sea, and hanging out in the openings of their caves. Being surrounded by puffins for the afternoon might have been the coolest part of the trip so far.

xo