Trip to Boston with Barb to celebrate both girls’ birthdays, for Barb to see Allie’s place, and generally commune with our newly working daughter. Then Bill went on to Nova Scotia for week including music of the Celtic Colours festival.
Previous Day | Next Day | Trip Home
Sunday, October 8
Picked up my Alamo rental car at Logan Airport around 2:30pm and headed north out of town. In my original plans for the trip, I thought I’d stop in Bar Harbor and explore Acadia National Park for a day before heading on toward Bay of Fundy and Nova Scotia. But as I checked routes and came to realize it was more or less peak foliage season, and lots of hotels were full or at peak rates, I shifted gears. I figured I’d just find a place to stay when I got tired, but at Barb’s nudging while we were in Boston I hunted for a cheap hotel on the route. TripAdvisor pointed me a TravelLodge in Saint John, New Brunswick, which I figured would be a good jumping point for the Bay of Fundy the next day. So the task at hand was to cover the 7-hour drive from Boston to Saint John.
The drive on I-95 was fine and typically dull, and the Little Feat (was in the midst of reading Willin’: The Story of Little Feat,) playlists on Apple Music kept me company until just south of Bangor when the route kicks off onto smaller roads to get more directly to Saint John. I didn’t pay much attention to the routing, and was mostly glad to be off the Interstate, but the roads quickly became a regular two-lane blacktop and much slower. Also it was getting dark, very dark, and I started to lose my internet signal. About 20 minutes into the smaller roads I came upon a police car blocking the path and forcing cars to turn around. The road ahead was closed and, with no internet, Google Map was not helping with alternate routes. I went back to the previous intersection, took a guess on which way to go, drove for another 10 minutes before deciding it was not the right way. Found a restaurant to check my route and figured out a detour that altogether added 30-40 minutes to the trip. As I progressed along Route 9 into the wilds of northern Maine, the road seemed to get smaller and darker as time passed. On a Sunday night there was hardly any traffic in either direction, and fewer and fewer towns or even lights. It felt very alone. And then the clouds lowered to get foggy and misty, which didn’t help with the whole eeriness factor. No wonder Steven King comes from Maine.
After close to two hours in the dark fog and mist of the Maine night, I finally came to the Canadian border. I glided through the border station — not much activity and not many questions at 9pm on a Sunday — and was soon on the much nicer four-lane Canada 1 Highway. The fog lifted a little, and after an hour later of guessing what the scenery might look like if there were any lights, I found the TraveLodge in Saint John. I was hoping for some dinner but there’s not much open on a Sunday evening after 10pm in the outskirts of Saint John. I scrounged up a sandwich and some chips at a 24-hour convenience store and plotted my next day’s conquest of the Bay of Fundy.
Monday, Oct. 9 – Canadian Thanksgiving!
I started this discovery day by seeking out the Fundy Trail Parkway (TripAdvisor). This scenic drive is not very long, but it’s a very nicely maintained park and walking trail. There’s an entry fee and it’s separate from the Canadian National Park system. 
Trouble was, although the day was reasonably clear, there was a thick layer of marine clouds/fog completely covering the Bay to about 30 feet. If you were above 30 feet or so, the viewing was clear, but under that was pea soup. You could hear the bay from a clifftop overlook, but there was no seeing to be done. This put a damper on seeing the world’s largest tidal change. 
I found a couple of places where I could see the expanse of tidal flat, but generally all I could see was the cloud layer. I got out here and there and found a pretty little waterfall accessed by an interesting chain link set of 
suspension steps where I communed with nature for a little while.
The end of the road for cars on this trail, for the time being, is at an old lumber mill and pedestrian suspension bridge over a salmon river. 
There’s no more mill (happily) and no more salmon (sadly). Progress comes both ways. The road will eventually go further on the other side of the river, but short of actually getting out and walking the trail (which wasn’t in the plan for this trip and didn’t seem worthwhile anyway with the lack of views), I’d done about all I could do at this park. I decided to try my luck at Fundy National Park about 20 miles up the bay.
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately for the environment), there are no roads along the coast, so I backtracked up to Canada 1 and then down to the National Park, almost a 2-hour drive. The countryside was fairly nondescript scrubland. There were some farms and settlements, and every now and then a burst of autumnal color on a hillside, enough to entice other cars to stop and take pictures. But not me, figuring that Nova Scotia would offer more of a foliage fest. Canadian radio (especially CBC 1 and 2) was fun, though, and the drive went by pretty quickly.
I got to the park, confirmed that entrance fees were indeed waived for the 150th anniversary of Canada (Go Canada! — all National Park fees waived for the year) and drove through to the town of Alma. Stopped at the Visitor Center near the Alma entrance and then figured I’d head into town for lunch before exploring the park. The town of Alma was moderately busy for what was evidently the last weekend of the season, and Canadian Thanksgiving. There were a only couple of sit down restaurants open, the biggest of which was only serving Thanksgiving dinner. Otherwise there were a handful of takeout stands that were celebrating their last day of being open. The gas station folks pointed me to the Fundy Take Out, which looked and sounded fun but turned out to be a pretty poor choice. The Bay of Fundy is famous for scallops, so I tried their scallop special, which turned out to be a plateful of fried scallops and french fries. I’m now pretty sure deep frying is the worst way you can serve scallops.
Back in the park I was confronted again with a limited set of drives and a surplus of hiking options. I didn’t have a whole lot of time or inclination for a long hike, and there was still the layer of fog lingering on the bay. After driving to one beach which offered a chilly grey lookout, I headed to a short-ish path to a waterfall. It was not a bad hike, and started very pretty, but was soon marred by a very large family with very noisy kids who disturbed the whole peaceful wilderness vibe. 
I kept hustling along to try to stay ahead of them. Ended up back at the car sweaty, tired and wet from the light rain that started to fall. It was not the idyll I had in mind.
It was nearing 4:00 when I scratched the idea of heading another hour north to see Hopewell Rocks, perhaps the top sight along the Bay. Instead, I pointed the car south for the 2+ hour drive back to Saint John. This day turned out to be more driving than I’d bargained for, and I had another full day to drive tomorrow. The miles were already starting to wear on me a bit.
Back in Saint John I weighed my options for dinner and whether to try to find a proper Canadian Thanksgiving. A lot of places were closed, but one of the highly rated places in town, Britt’s Pub, was open so I decided to venture out and give it a try. There was not much of a crowd, but they were serving a “traditional” Thanksgiving Dinner special. It turned out to be pretty much like a US Thanksgiving plate, with roast turkey slices, mashed potatoes, gravy and beans. Tasty comfort food, but not really a culinary or cultural adventure. But definitely better than fast food on the road.
Tuesday, Oct. 10
Today’s mission was to get to Sydney on the far end of Nova Scotia in time to get to the first of my Celtic Colours concerts that evening. Google said it was a 6 hour, 19 minute drive. I had a pretty good idea that would translate to about 8 hours for me.
I got started about 9 and ended up making it to Sydney around 5pm, with a short stop in Antigonish where I succumbed to McDonald’s and their wifi. How do you pronounce Antigonish? The local radio confirmed it’s something like A’nnigunnish, the faster the better. This drive confirmed that there’s really not a while lot going on in New Brunswick, and precious little over the “mainland” of Nova Scotia, though Nova Scotia at least has some hills and longer vistas. It wasn’t until I got to the Canso Causeway that links Cape Breton Island with the rest of Nova Scotia that the drive became interesting.
Cape Breton Island is someplace special. The land becomes steeper, the coastline somehow more prominent, and there’s a feel that you’re someplace different. Echoes of Scotland, yes, but also the French in place and family names. The Acadian history is more present, wrapped up in the 17th-18th century tugs of war between England, France, Scotland, the American Revolution, and Catholic vs. Protestant divisions. Migrants kept getting uprooted and displaced by political forces an ocean away. French and English settlers slugged it out through a series of wars in the 1600’s, wiping out most of the indigenous tribes through disease and poorly chosen alliances. French Acadians became Louisiana Cajuns in the mid-century through the Great Upheaval. Scottish Highlanders, having lost at Culloden in 1746, were forced from Scotland and settled in the newly vacated lands, as did British loyalists fleeing the American Revolution later in the century. Acadians were eventually invited back but could not resettle their former homes. All these influences linger in the names and music, and doubtless in the people if one takes time to get to know them.
I didn’t gather this background while driving, but did start to get curious about the island and its history. It’s not a story that’s worn on its sleeve. More questions rose when I got to my hotel in Sydney, a new Hampton Inn that’s built in an odd part of town and part of what seems to be a Casino and indigenous tribal (First Nation) area, the Membertou Reserve. I never did really figure out the economics of the casino, convention center and other facilities in the Reserve, nor do I have an inkling of the Canadian policies for its First Nations people and communities. There was clearly a good bit of money pumped into the development, but precious little town or community nearby.
I had a short rest in the room before heading out to my first event of the Celtic Colours Festival, the Cow Bay Ceilidh in the Port Morien Legion / Community Centre. I wasn’t sure how any of this worked. I’d learned by happenstance (and the Internet) that the Festival was taking place the week I’d been planning to come to Nova Scotia. I didn’t know most of the artists, but was a fan of Rhiannon Giddens since seeing her with the Carolina Chocolate Drops at Wolf Trap in 2011, and had heard of banjo player Alison Brown. When tickets went on sale in July I was a few hours late to get into any of Rhiannon Giddens’ shows (she was playing with Dirk Powell, whom I didn’t know but has quite a resume; sample of what I missed). But I did get two shows with Alison Brown along with a host of other Canadian, Scottish and Irish folks that represented a mix of styles and instruments.
The Port Morien Legion / Community Centre was a small assembly hall with seats for about 200. I gave my name at the front table and they gave me tickets for all my Celtic Colours shows — very well organized and trusting. The first act was Paul McKenna, a solo singer/guitarist from Scotland (he also leads the Scottish folk Paul McKenna Band which seems to be his focus). He has a pleasing high voice and seemed very serious. He showcased several songs from an album with his band, including “Banks of the Moy” and “Long Days“. Next came an upbeat set from a trio of Canadians, Troy MacGillivray (guitar, mostly), Shane Cook (fiddle) and Ray Legere (mandolin, mostly). Shane Cook was the standout personality. A fiddler and national champion from Ontario, he had a fine stage presence and smile, and seemed to have a great time (good sample). All three are extremely accomplished musicians with long and impressive resumes, but best of all they seemed to have great fun with the music and each other. Third was a set from Kimberley Fraser also of Nova Scotia, who had also played piano for some of the previous set. She played some lovely fiddle tunes, accompanied by Troy MacGillivray on piano; here’s a couple of good examples, “My Cape Breton Home” and a medly of Cape Breton tunes. It had already been a fun evening when the Alison Brown Quartet came on for their set. They had a more mainstream sound, with Alison aiming to make music for people that don’t like banjo. An example is her cover of the Chuck Manigone song “Feels So Good” which she recorded with Jake Shimabukuro. Alison’s husband, Garry West, is bass player for the band. Together they founded Compass Records in Nashville and have a long pedigree in Americana and roots music. Alison was also a member of Alison Krause’s Union Station in its first, less successful, iteration. They have a great version of “Christmas Don’t Be Late” made famous by Alvin and the Chipmunks…but it wasn’t Christmas time. The best part of their set was when they invited some of the other players and did a series of Celtic jigs and reels. It was a marvelous, intimate evening and a great start to the Festival for me. And the drive back to the hotel was relatively short so I could crash.
My thought had been to get a late dinner back in Sydney (there wasn’t much of anything in Port Morien that I could see). I rolled through downtown Sydney around 11pm and didn’t find much of anything open, and I’d already had one round of McDonalds on the road for lunch. I wasn’t super hungry, which was good. I ended up back at the hotel and discovered they had some pre-made sandwiches and chips for sale in the lobby store. Not a gourmet or healthy meal, but it was sufficient. I scoped out some options for the next day and called it a night.
You must be logged in to post a comment.