Thirty-seven years ago, Lou and I climbed into my gleaming white Camaro and headed off to the East Coast on one of our first road trips together. We had only a vague plan of what to do and where to go. We were going to look up two good friends of ours, who were spending the summer in Halifax, and travel with them for a while, before venturing off on our own to Newfoundland. We were young teachers and had a little money and the summer off for the adventure. We spent some time in Quebec City and the Saguenay region before venturing into Halifax to pick up our friends, Dave and Siri.
Just out of Halifax, we spent a day in the lovely town of Cheticamp for some Acadian culture and food. After dinner, we went on a whale watching cruise and saw some amazing pilot whales in the evening warm light. We were happy with our little cruise, and left the boat for an evening walk on the harbor front, laughing, talking, enjoying life.
As we strolled along the seafront, we encountered an older American couple coming the opposite way, also on a leisurely stroll. We said hello to them and then we all stopped, as strangers in a strange place often do, for a nice conversation. We shared travel stories and asked about our respective home towns. I recall the gentleman looking at me and remarking that I resembled a painting he had seen in some Boston museum of a famous mariner: I guess my dark red beard gave him that impression. We all got a good laugh out of that.
Eventually, it was time to go, so we wished each other well on our travels and said goodnight. And then the lady looked back at us with a wistful smile on her face and said, "be safe … and stay young."
Those words touched me then, and I recall them now with great fondness. We never saw those nice people again, and of course many, many years have gone by. I'd like to think they are still with us in this world.
"Stay young." How do you do that ? Obviously, time will not permit it. It moves relentlessly onwards, for all of us. We all grow old and eventually lose our youth. We can't avoid the physical growing old. But I think I knew what that lady meant. We can always hold on to being young in our hearts and spirits. If we allow our minds and souls to grow old, we truly lose something precious and good. So what if the body slows down and red beards become white ? If the soul is willing, youth remains.
In that spirit, Lou and I decided to retrace our steps back East. It would just be the two of us on this trip: our friends have relocated to the West Coast and we don't see them much anymore. And that older American couple have vanished from our world, at least in terms of seeing them. But those words guided us on this new trip. "Stay young." We will certainly try, ma'am.
Monday, October 21, 2019
DAY 1 WED. SEPT. 4 NEWMARKET - MONTMAGNY
The allure of the road trip is often irresistible. How many novels or movies have we seen where the freedom of the open road calls us to action ? We vicariously experience the exhilleration of heroes who rode motorcycles or cars on long, uncluttered highways with no impediments or restrictions. Wind in the hair, wayfarers on, tunes on the radio, Route 66, Easy Rider, Steppenwolf … ah, life !!
On our first day of this road trip, we left early on an optimistic morning. The sun was shining, the weather moderate, our car stocked and ready for flight. We decided on an early familiar route through the lovely farmland and forest of Durham Region. It was a road I had travelled so many times before, on sunny mornings such as this, during my career. I knew it like the back of my hand. I was ready, a little trip down memory lane, and a gateway to our great new adventure.
And then …. gridlock. Construction down Lakeridge Road brought us to a standstill. Seconds became minutes …. frustration levels rose to vaguely remembered heights. We crawled for an eternity just to get to the 401. I thought this was not what Jack Kerouac wrote about, not what Peter Fonda felt like on his bike, nothing like the Steppenwolf song. We sat …. and waited … we drummed fingers on our dashboard. Oh, it was horrible.
After almost two hours out of Newmarket, we finally made the 401 and …. freedom ! The road opened to us, took us in. Traffic melted away and we gained speed. At last ! The road trip was launched !
Until my back started to spasm. Damn ! What caused this ? I think I looked back in my rear-view mirror. That's what did it ! Never check your rear-view mirror on a road trip ! What good comes from this ?
Thanks to our GPS, we were able to escape the never-ending madness of Montreal road construction. We headed across the wide magnificence of the St. Lawrence River to the south shore and then sprinted east. We actually made up time ! The weather closed in and we drove through depressing grey drizzle interrupted by splashes of brilliant sunshine and even a couple of rainbows. Our spirits picked up. Around Quebec City, the vista to our left cleared to reveal an ancient land. The mighty river glistened like a vital artery: low, rounded mountains to the north and south, once as mighty as Everest, now reduced to geologic old age. And rich farms, rolling in long, narrow patches of green and gold, reminders of centuries-old seigneuries, reaching from the safety and commerce of the river into the dangerous and uncertain hinterland, the domain of the Mohawk and Montaignais. I marveled at the numerous canoe-rivers that took brave men weeks to travel while we sped by on asphalt rivers at more than 100 kph. This is truly the old beating heart of Canada.
We found our hotel in Montmagny ahead of schedule. A restful afternoon, some pizza and beer for supper, conversation about the upcoming weather waiting for us perhaps in Halifax … and then, tomorrow's road.
On our first day of this road trip, we left early on an optimistic morning. The sun was shining, the weather moderate, our car stocked and ready for flight. We decided on an early familiar route through the lovely farmland and forest of Durham Region. It was a road I had travelled so many times before, on sunny mornings such as this, during my career. I knew it like the back of my hand. I was ready, a little trip down memory lane, and a gateway to our great new adventure.
And then …. gridlock. Construction down Lakeridge Road brought us to a standstill. Seconds became minutes …. frustration levels rose to vaguely remembered heights. We crawled for an eternity just to get to the 401. I thought this was not what Jack Kerouac wrote about, not what Peter Fonda felt like on his bike, nothing like the Steppenwolf song. We sat …. and waited … we drummed fingers on our dashboard. Oh, it was horrible.
After almost two hours out of Newmarket, we finally made the 401 and …. freedom ! The road opened to us, took us in. Traffic melted away and we gained speed. At last ! The road trip was launched !
Until my back started to spasm. Damn ! What caused this ? I think I looked back in my rear-view mirror. That's what did it ! Never check your rear-view mirror on a road trip ! What good comes from this ?
Thanks to our GPS, we were able to escape the never-ending madness of Montreal road construction. We headed across the wide magnificence of the St. Lawrence River to the south shore and then sprinted east. We actually made up time ! The weather closed in and we drove through depressing grey drizzle interrupted by splashes of brilliant sunshine and even a couple of rainbows. Our spirits picked up. Around Quebec City, the vista to our left cleared to reveal an ancient land. The mighty river glistened like a vital artery: low, rounded mountains to the north and south, once as mighty as Everest, now reduced to geologic old age. And rich farms, rolling in long, narrow patches of green and gold, reminders of centuries-old seigneuries, reaching from the safety and commerce of the river into the dangerous and uncertain hinterland, the domain of the Mohawk and Montaignais. I marveled at the numerous canoe-rivers that took brave men weeks to travel while we sped by on asphalt rivers at more than 100 kph. This is truly the old beating heart of Canada.
We found our hotel in Montmagny ahead of schedule. A restful afternoon, some pizza and beer for supper, conversation about the upcoming weather waiting for us perhaps in Halifax … and then, tomorrow's road.
DAY 2 THURS. SEPT. 5 MONTMAGNY - HALIFAX
A long nine hour drive today. We awoke to cold conditions but brilliant sunshine in Montmagny, a little later than I wanted. Our drive went north along the St. Lawrence, which became visible as we progressed. The wide river is indeed mighty. We saw wonderful vistas of rich farmland and more low rounded mountains.
New Brunswick is a vast rolling forest, immense and evocative of Duncan Campbell Scott's "Height of Land". The drive was excellent in every way: but the seemingly endless trail started to insinuate itself on me. I was tired, but happy. The road through New Brunswick was in good shape and I found that our car wanted to gallop: several times, I had to throttle back from 140 kph, the roads were that good and the Mounties were that scarce: but you never know ! We straddled the border with Maine, and several rivers, lakes and towns few by, nameless and unknown to us. We gained an hour somewhere in New Brunswick, but we didn't care. We wanted Halifax.
Finally, our third province of the day greeted us. Nova Scotia was mostly indistinguishable from New Brunswick at first. Then, as the sunlight glowed warmly into late afternoon, the hills grew smaller, the forest less dense, and some views of ocean at Nova Scotia's narrowest northern point met our gaze. A last sprint into Dartmouth, over the bridge peering down into the busy navy yards, and a climb to our musty, funky hotel. We enjoyed beer and food at the Brown Dog pub, met a lovely barmaid from Richmond Hill, and began to consider the approaching storm.
New Brunswick is a vast rolling forest, immense and evocative of Duncan Campbell Scott's "Height of Land". The drive was excellent in every way: but the seemingly endless trail started to insinuate itself on me. I was tired, but happy. The road through New Brunswick was in good shape and I found that our car wanted to gallop: several times, I had to throttle back from 140 kph, the roads were that good and the Mounties were that scarce: but you never know ! We straddled the border with Maine, and several rivers, lakes and towns few by, nameless and unknown to us. We gained an hour somewhere in New Brunswick, but we didn't care. We wanted Halifax.
Finally, our third province of the day greeted us. Nova Scotia was mostly indistinguishable from New Brunswick at first. Then, as the sunlight glowed warmly into late afternoon, the hills grew smaller, the forest less dense, and some views of ocean at Nova Scotia's narrowest northern point met our gaze. A last sprint into Dartmouth, over the bridge peering down into the busy navy yards, and a climb to our musty, funky hotel. We enjoyed beer and food at the Brown Dog pub, met a lovely barmaid from Richmond Hill, and began to consider the approaching storm.
DAY 3 FRI. SEPT. 6 HALIFAX
Not a good night's sleep despite the driver fatigue. Nevertheless, a beautiful, bright, mild day greeted us. Storm ? What storm ?
We walked down steep streets to the old part of Halifax. The beautiful St. Paul's church ( ca. 1750 ) reminded us of Halifax's rich past. The colonial vibe is still present, and I thought of the prosperous merchants and genteel clergy rubbing shoulders with rough farmers, fishers, tradespeople and sailors in this important garrison port. Halifax was on par with Boston, New York and Philadelphia in those days and only a stubborn loyalty kept them from joining the rebellious 13 colonies to the south.
A visit to Pier 21 is a must for all Canadians, since we are ALL immigrants to this country. As we roamed the restored complex and saw the artifacts, we thought of Lou's Aunt Mary and my Dad and his brothers … and me and my Mom. We may not all have come through Pier 21, but we all had a first time on Canadian shores and it must've been a terrifying and awesome experience. I thought of my childhood friends and schoolmates … Ukrainian, German, Poles, Italians. And I thought of many of my former students … Vietnamese, Jamaican, Persian and Afghans. We all have our stories and reason for coming here. And our stories make the Canadian story, one and all.
Garrison beer, delicious scallops and clam chowder were the culinary highlights, enjoyed at water's edge at the busy harbor. The rumours of the hurricane seem crazy on a day like today. Except that cruise ships, the coast guard and the navy seem to be getting out quickly. Hmmm. Our return walk up endless steep streets made us weary and want to turn in early. What will tomorrow bring ?
We walked down steep streets to the old part of Halifax. The beautiful St. Paul's church ( ca. 1750 ) reminded us of Halifax's rich past. The colonial vibe is still present, and I thought of the prosperous merchants and genteel clergy rubbing shoulders with rough farmers, fishers, tradespeople and sailors in this important garrison port. Halifax was on par with Boston, New York and Philadelphia in those days and only a stubborn loyalty kept them from joining the rebellious 13 colonies to the south.
A visit to Pier 21 is a must for all Canadians, since we are ALL immigrants to this country. As we roamed the restored complex and saw the artifacts, we thought of Lou's Aunt Mary and my Dad and his brothers … and me and my Mom. We may not all have come through Pier 21, but we all had a first time on Canadian shores and it must've been a terrifying and awesome experience. I thought of my childhood friends and schoolmates … Ukrainian, German, Poles, Italians. And I thought of many of my former students … Vietnamese, Jamaican, Persian and Afghans. We all have our stories and reason for coming here. And our stories make the Canadian story, one and all.
Garrison beer, delicious scallops and clam chowder were the culinary highlights, enjoyed at water's edge at the busy harbor. The rumours of the hurricane seem crazy on a day like today. Except that cruise ships, the coast guard and the navy seem to be getting out quickly. Hmmm. Our return walk up endless steep streets made us weary and want to turn in early. What will tomorrow bring ?
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| Halifax's famous clock tower |
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| Lou enjoying the sunshine and warmth on Halifax's vibrant waterfront |
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| The old and the new. The red umbrellas are the Bicycle Thief restaurant: great chowder and scallops! |
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| Cruise ship terminal, with Pier 21 the brown brick building in the middle |
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| Pier 21 museum: an absolute MUST VISIT ! |
Sunday, October 20, 2019
DAY 4 SAT. SEPT. 7 HALIFAX
Hurricane ? What hurricane ? Or so we thought when we woke up this morning. We noticed that it had rained a bit through the night and there was a slight breeze under grey skies, but nothing unusual. But we knew something was coming, so did not make elaborate plans. After breakfast, we decided to go for a brief neighbourhood walk. The streets were very quiet. Then, about ten minutes into our walk, the rain started and the wind really kicked up. A quick retreat brought us back to our hotel for a window seat.
As the minutes went by, the rain and wind picked up in intensity, but, again, nothing unusual. Then, around noon, the power went out. We lost all connection to the internet, although our phones still worked. Then, Mother Nature really began to rachet up the fury. We hoped that each crazy gust and angry wave of tree branches would signal the height of it, but for the next six hours it would just increase. We genuinely feared for a large chestnut tree in the next door yard, but, like a veteran boxer, its branches bobbed and weaved: it absorbed so much violence, but refused to go down.
Around 4 pm, we realized that a hoped-for end was out of the question. Fortunately we bought some food ( bagels, peanut butter, cookies, trail mix, apples and bananas ) and lots of bottled water. We had enough. But all we could do is hang out in our small, increasingly dark room and watch the show. I ventured outside for about 10 minutes to get some video and was absolutely drenched.
At 6 pm the strangest thing happened. The rain stopped and the wind went from being a screaming banshee to absolute silence. People emerged from houses, probably looking for food, or walking their dogs. We looked at each other and realized that the storm was not over: it was the eye. Surreal calm and quiet.
Then, about 45 minutes later, like someone flipped a switch, the rain and wind came back and roung 2 brought more body blows. Darkness came and Halifax remained a ghost town. So strange. We lost daylight before 8 pm and settled into bed for a long, edgy night. Sleep came, but it was storm-tossed.
We agreed that this was a unique experience in our travels, but not one we would want to duplicate. We later learned that Hurricane Dorion was, when it hit Halifax, was a Category 1 storm …. we had seen the scenes earlier this week when the same hurricane hit the Bahamas as a Category 5 storm. We spent a few silent moments thinking about the poor people whose lives were destroyed by a storm. And we were inconvenienced by rain and wind for a few hours. First world problems.
As the minutes went by, the rain and wind picked up in intensity, but, again, nothing unusual. Then, around noon, the power went out. We lost all connection to the internet, although our phones still worked. Then, Mother Nature really began to rachet up the fury. We hoped that each crazy gust and angry wave of tree branches would signal the height of it, but for the next six hours it would just increase. We genuinely feared for a large chestnut tree in the next door yard, but, like a veteran boxer, its branches bobbed and weaved: it absorbed so much violence, but refused to go down.
Around 4 pm, we realized that a hoped-for end was out of the question. Fortunately we bought some food ( bagels, peanut butter, cookies, trail mix, apples and bananas ) and lots of bottled water. We had enough. But all we could do is hang out in our small, increasingly dark room and watch the show. I ventured outside for about 10 minutes to get some video and was absolutely drenched.
At 6 pm the strangest thing happened. The rain stopped and the wind went from being a screaming banshee to absolute silence. People emerged from houses, probably looking for food, or walking their dogs. We looked at each other and realized that the storm was not over: it was the eye. Surreal calm and quiet.
Then, about 45 minutes later, like someone flipped a switch, the rain and wind came back and roung 2 brought more body blows. Darkness came and Halifax remained a ghost town. So strange. We lost daylight before 8 pm and settled into bed for a long, edgy night. Sleep came, but it was storm-tossed.
We agreed that this was a unique experience in our travels, but not one we would want to duplicate. We later learned that Hurricane Dorion was, when it hit Halifax, was a Category 1 storm …. we had seen the scenes earlier this week when the same hurricane hit the Bahamas as a Category 5 storm. We spent a few silent moments thinking about the poor people whose lives were destroyed by a storm. And we were inconvenienced by rain and wind for a few hours. First world problems.
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| Our Halifax fortress |
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| Rainy Halifax streets … hurricane hasn't happened yet |
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| Stormy weather |
DAY 5 SUN. SEPT. 8 HALIFAX - CHETICAMP
We awoke early to brightness, but not sunshine. Clouds moved quickly overhead, but there was little activity, save for emergency sirens constantly patrolling the streets. Our hotel could not offer breakfast and everything was closed, so we depleted our food supply and pondered our next move, as we learned that Halifax was probably going to be without power until 11 pm at the earliest. We took a short walk to survey the damage and saw a few trees downed by the storm, but there was an eerie silence over the city. Some people were out cleaning up, but mostly it was dead.
I called our hotel in Cheticamp, our next stop four hours away on Cape Breton Island. The manager said Cheticamp was not hard hit, still had power and gasoline and that we'd be OK. Off we went, navigating malfunctioning traffic lights and crossing the bridge over the somewhat turbulent waters of the harbor.
Our biggest concern was gasoline and, sure enough, a few towns out of Halifax on the highway had no open stores or power: therefore, no gas stations operating. We had less than half a tank, so I was conservative with my speed, not knowing for sure if we had enough for Cheticamp. Finally, in Antigonish, there was power, so we gassed up, had a Timmies breakfast and resumed.
Crossing into Cape Breton was dramatic. Nova Scotia looked a lot like Southern Ontario, but Cape Breton looked like the Scottish highlands, only with taller trees. We saw many impressive hills and rivers. Then, along the coast, the angry remnants of Dorion, stirring up monster waves crashing madly and angrily on jagged rocks in a fast, wind-driven fury. At one stop, to get some video, the wind drowned out my voice completely and almost toppled me over. Then, after struggling back into the car, we had a final sprint into the Acadian enclave of Cheticamp, where the Gaelic road signs became French. We found our comfortable hotel, had a superb seafood dinner and settled in for a comfortable, calm and quiet night. Good bye Dorion ! And Happy Birthday, Dad !
I called our hotel in Cheticamp, our next stop four hours away on Cape Breton Island. The manager said Cheticamp was not hard hit, still had power and gasoline and that we'd be OK. Off we went, navigating malfunctioning traffic lights and crossing the bridge over the somewhat turbulent waters of the harbor.
Our biggest concern was gasoline and, sure enough, a few towns out of Halifax on the highway had no open stores or power: therefore, no gas stations operating. We had less than half a tank, so I was conservative with my speed, not knowing for sure if we had enough for Cheticamp. Finally, in Antigonish, there was power, so we gassed up, had a Timmies breakfast and resumed.
Crossing into Cape Breton was dramatic. Nova Scotia looked a lot like Southern Ontario, but Cape Breton looked like the Scottish highlands, only with taller trees. We saw many impressive hills and rivers. Then, along the coast, the angry remnants of Dorion, stirring up monster waves crashing madly and angrily on jagged rocks in a fast, wind-driven fury. At one stop, to get some video, the wind drowned out my voice completely and almost toppled me over. Then, after struggling back into the car, we had a final sprint into the Acadian enclave of Cheticamp, where the Gaelic road signs became French. We found our comfortable hotel, had a superb seafood dinner and settled in for a comfortable, calm and quiet night. Good bye Dorion ! And Happy Birthday, Dad !
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| Grey skies out of Halifax and into Cape Breton |
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| Crossing into Cape Breton |
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| The angry Gulf of St. Lawrence near Cheticamp |
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| Stormy seas |
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| Clearing that evening in Cheticamp as we enjoyed a wonderful dinner |
DAY 6 MON. SEPT. 9 CHETICAMP - INGONISH
We drove this magnificent road 37 years ago in my old ( not old then ! ) Camaro, and we remembered it as a beautiful drive. Now, older and wiser (?) we drove it again. And the beauty of it came flooding back to us. Every bend in the road brought a stunning vista. We stopped frequently, walked the beaches, breathed salt air, blinked in the bright light, looked hopefully for whales but saw none, and contemplated the wonders of earth and time. It was magical.
We hoped the small town of Ingonish had power and luck was with us ! A good hearty supper, come cold beer and off to bed !
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| My beautiful girl on a beautiful morning in beautiful Cheticamp |
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| Catholic church in Cheticamp |
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| On the Cabot Trail |
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| Cabot Trail |
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