JUST AROUND THE BEND
EPISODE IV
1999
EASTERN UNITED STATES
AND THE
CANADIAN MARITIME PROVINCES
RICHARD E. ZIMMERMAN
AND
ARLENE M. ZIMMERMAN
JUST AROUND THE BEND
Just Around The Bend
Episode IV
Eastern United States
And The
Canadian Maritime Provinces
Copyright
© 2012 Richard E. Zimmerman and Arlene M. Zimmerman
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including
photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without the express permission in writing from the
authors or publisher.
Cover and Cover Photograph by the author
All photographs Copyright
© 2012 Richard E. Zimmerman and Arlene M. Zimmerman
November 2012
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DEDICATION
This is an ongoing story of several generations, led by my Mom
and Pop, K. Margretta, and John U. Zimmerman who were
faced with unemployment in the 1930’s. In response to the
Great Depression they developed an adventurous spirit. One
that led them away from the soup lines to fulfill their traveling
dreams.
They learned to drive, bought an old auto, outfitted it, and began
camping and traveling throughout the United States. From 1931
to 1933 they visited and chronicled every known National Park,
every cousin and relative. They finally settled in Washington
D.C., but never lost their adventurous spirit.
Arlene, and I are fortunate to share their joy, and love of
traveling and camping.
Thank you Mom and Pop for your camping and traveling legacy,
experiences, and for your memory.
Richard E. Zimmerman
And
Arlene M. Zimmerman
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The best part of putting this book together was the help we’ve
gotten from our friends. During the years after my retirement
I’d lost touch with the Information Age and its technology. It
would be safe to say my son Dan’s words that echo in my mind
are true. He observed: ‘Dad, your living in the horse and buggy
world’.
That’s a pretty harsh assessment of my technological knowledge
and skills. Particularly as my career was devoted to the
Information Revolution. From the late 1950’s with paper tape,
card readers, the world’s largest data bases at 500 KB’s, and
warehouses full of disks and tape drives. To the late 1980’s
where I concentrated on the use of the data, turning it into
integrated, and comprehensive information systems for
Government.
It’s easy to get out of touch. In a blink, as Dan says, horse and
buggy. So it’s also really easy to say how much Arlene and I
have appreciated these folk’s help.
George Mindling, has a love for research. I think the Internet
was developed for him. He writes, and publishes, and has
taken special care with us, introducing us to self-publishing.
He has broadened our understanding of writing, introduced us
to many authors and allowed us to know a little about the
industry.
Alyx, and Jim Movich our daughter and son-in-law are
consultants. They lecture, manage, and develop Government
Contracts for businesses. They have shared their publishing
experiences with us and have taken the time to read, and edit
our manuscript, with only a few technical recommendations.
Paul Klump, is a retired computer specialist, who loves
computers, and even more, senior citizens who can’t quite get
their heads around them. Though the years Paul has patiently
listened to our problems, made adjustments, and suggestions
that have kept our machines running.
Thanks to all of you for your help and support.
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Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION ......................................................... 7
CONNECTICUT .......................................................... 11
RHODE ISLAND ........................................................ 17
MASSACHUSETTS..................................................... 23
MAINE ...................................................................... 29
NEW BRUNSWICK .................................................... 41
PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND ....................................... 55
CAPE BRETON ......................................................... 69
NEWFOUNDLAND I ................................................ 83
NEWFOUNDLAND II ............................................. 106
LABRADOR ............................................................. 123
NEWFOUNDLAND III ............................................. 133
NOVA SCOTIA ......................................................... 139
NEW HAMPSHIRE .................................................. 163
DOLLY COPP US Forest Service (1933) .................... 169
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
VERMONT ............................................................... 175
NEW YORK .............................................................. 179
PENNYSLAVANIA ................................................... 185
MARYLAND ............................................................. 195
WASHINGTON D.C. ................................................. 197
VIRGINIA ................................................................ 215
NORTH CAROLINA ..................................................219
GEORGIA ................................................................ 223
FLORIDA ................................................................ 227
HOME ...................................................................... 231
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INTRODUCTION
Arlene and I have been traveling back and forth between Florida
and Connecticut trying to get the house ready to sell. Each time
we return to Connecticut, our home, has sat idle during the
winter, and needs more attention. That means we help fund our
plumber’s private plane flights to the Florida Keys.
Our life style has changed in the last few years, traveling, more
and more for several months at a time. We don’t see this activity
changing in the near future so we decided to lighten the load.
Two houses have become too many. By cutting back to one we
will be able to concentrate on a single home, and spend more
time on the road.
Following the sale of the house we thought we’d go to Canada.
I’ve always wanted to see Labrador, that remote far
Northeastern Canadian Province.
I dream of these isolated places, and scan our AAA maps for
access to them. There’s at least one road, or trail that leads
through Quebec to Goose Bay. That’s one of two towns in
Labrador. The other is Red Bay, a town named for the color of
th
the water after the whale slaughter in the 18 century.
Getting there may be more than we can handle, so maybe
Quebec’s Gaspe’ peninsula would be better. It’s also remote, yet
it has a road around it, and camping accommodations.
That’s getting a little ahead of ourselves as we’d tried last year to
sell the house and failed. This year we’re optimistic, and to
prove it we bought a Recreational Vehicle, so when the house is
sold we’ll take off to the far northeast.
Here, then are five components that have brought about this
journey.
- Arlene and I,
- Our RV,
- Several pencils and notebooks,
- A camera, and
- A desire to go to Canada’s Maritime provinces.
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I think I’ve always been a traveler. It’s part of my heritage and
upbringing. Even as a kid I used to run from one end of
Arlington County to the other. Born and raised in Washington
D.C., where for years it was only a stopover for both American
politicians, and dignitaries from other countries. Where my
folks who won their traveling wings early in their married life,
and continued with our family through the 1940’s and 1950’s.
Me, camping with my children during the 1960’s and then losing
my interest for 20 years, even as the camping craze swept the
country.
Arlene was never much of a traveler. Before we started going
places she had seldom been outside of her home state of
Connecticut. She liked traveling immediately, flying to Florida,
Las Vegas, and Bermuda. Road trips to Pennsylvania, Vermont,
New York City and New Jersey were fun. We went in every
season, spring, summer, fall and winter, in the sun, rain and
snow. We found each other tolerable, enjoyable, and
compatible. Loving being together, for even long periods of
time, made our transition easy.
An RV can be considered the end of the line for road travelers.
For us however, we grew up in a world where electronics was in
its infancy, not like today’s internet, Cloud or wireless
revolution. Yet, for the better part of the 20 century we had a
th
romance with the automobile. We were imprinted during our
early years. Me as part of a traveling family, Arlene as the
oldest daughter of a garage owner and mechanic. We just
needed to work together to purchase one.
Both of us had family camping experiences. There were the wet
tents, wet sleeping bags, drenched and freezing morning, days,
and nights. Stretching, and hanging canvas over, under, across
and around picnic tables. And making and eating yucky meals.
We’ve tried tents, pop-ups, trailers, and sleeping in a van. None
of these were nearly as appealing as a house on wheels. Our
own motorhome, with electricity, air conditioning, a kitchen
with a refrigerator, a bed with fresh sheets and blankets. All this
for us in the wilderness. An RV was a no brainer.
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My journaling has become more and more a part of our travels.
I write daily in a script that gets smaller and more unintelligible
as I go along. Arlene had once appealed to my good nature and
encouraged me to write more. Knowing how I write she offered
to translate, type my scribbles, in 1996. Our initial trip to
Europe filled two tiny notebooks. They were so small that they
influenced me to also write small.
Arlene gave it a true effort, and converted 10 pages before she
gave up. She never told me she had quit, but after weeks of no
further progress, and the notebooks being mislaid it’s difficult to
come to any other conclusion.
With pencils and notebooks as an aid I’m able to see, think, and
write more about my experiences, and chronicle our times
together.
In addition to the journaling I take a lot of photos. I like video’s
because they are an analog of time. They capture a more
complete picture of the moment, and surroundings as well as
some commentary. But, video cameras are heavy and awkward
to lug around, and even more difficult to include in any text.
I also carry a small point, and shoot camera. As opposed to an
analog memory they are digital, capturing only a moment. They
are a breeze to carry, and the pictures are easily included in any
text.
Still another advantage of using a smaller camera is because
each year I end up in some place where the camera won’t
survive. On an annual basis my camera is dropped, filled with
sand, drowned in a creek or just plain stops. Therefore, thanks
to Consumer Reports I always have an advanced simple digital
camera at my disposal.
Taking photos has always been lots of fun. But, during the years
it’s really gotten out of hand. I’ve found that it’s possible to take
so many that looking them over and choosing a few is
impossible. Further they often don’t represent my memory of
the experience, place or thing.
I often take a lot of pictures about things and unfortunately
can’t tell later what they were about. Like a snapshot of every
campsite. They quickly blur in my memory. I’ve tried several
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approaches to solving this problem. First, I tried including
Arlene. She isn’t adverse to having her picture taken, but she
doesn’t like so many of them, and she prefers not to pose for
everyone. Second, I’ve tried including signs. A sign can
express a lot, like ‘Moncton City Limits’ with a picture of the
largest bore tide in the world.
Choosing a place is easy. It usually starts in late December and
by early March we’ve settled the small issues, and agreed upon
the general direction. Planning the trip after that is a piece of
cake. Making arrangements, packing, and solving the few
other issues that might inhibit the trip. In all it seems to
dominate most of our winter. We are now ready to GO.
Finally, I don’t have any enthusiasm to make this or any of my
efforts a public entry. I undertake it for two reasons. First, the
journals are taking up a lot of storage space. It could be reduced
to a single storage device if I had the time to work on it. I have
that time and only need to apply myself.
Secondly, and more importantly, our children, Arlene’s and
mine have very little knowledge about their ageing parents. Our
grandchildren know even less. They are so busy with their own
lives and we live so far from them that only cosmetic relations
are shared. This is an attempt to share our interests, our
lifestyles and our experiences with them. We know that
Americans have always been travelers, yet there has never been
a population like us who at our age are so active. In that manner
we may be in some small way
Just Around The Bend.
Richard E. Zimmerman
Arlene M. Zimmerman
November 2012
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CONNECTICUT
Last year we tried selling our home in Connecticut. Listening to
several real estate brokers, we stored a lot of things, reduced the
clutter, and patiently kept the place in tip-top shape while
showing it. It was slow, and by the fall we had no offers so we
pulled it off the market and headed back to Florida.
This summer we’ve begun anew, with our plans to sell the
house. It hasn’t been happy without us during the winter.
Funny thing about houses when you leave them alone. They
don’t like it. We cleaned the place, and invited our favorite
plumber to fix anything with running water. Those were our
showers, toilets, and a couple of outside spigots. He’s been good
to us over the years, and we don’t mind helping to pay for his
private plane, so he can fly to Florida for the winter.
We again invited a couple of brokers to see the house and make
recommendations. This time we chose a fellow who believed
folks had to see inside. That made sense as we were on the main
street in East Granby, which over the years had become much
busier, and inside the house was gorgeous. He and other
brokers showed the house a lot, and in two weeks we had four
offers.
Choosing our home in East Granby was pretty easy. It was half
way between Arlene’s Development work at Bay Path College in
Springfield, and my Information Technology job in Hartford.
We took a liking to the rural town quickly. They say it was so
heavily forested when settled in the 17 century that there was
th
no underbrush. It has changed, but there was still lots of farm
land. Behind our house were two homes, each on 18 acres of
wooded land.
We also loved the people. The town was made up equally of
farmers, merchants, professionals and us. We were the
transients, who would come and go, and wanted better schools,
good roads, and higher taxes. We preferred not to wait for those
things as we weren’t sure how long we would be here.
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Fortunately, we weren’t the majority, and the community grew
slowly, making it a great place to live.
Our home was a three bedroom ranch with a circular drive in
front, and a drive down the side to our garage. Over the 15 years
we made plenty of changes. I think of them as turning it into a
‘Ranger Rick’ forest like hideout. We put dozens of
Rhododendrons around the drive, with White Birch, and
flowering Cherry trees. Inside we rebuilt the sunken living room
with hardwood flooring, increased the size of the kitchen and
dining room, built a wine cellar in the basement, and a couple of
decks outside.
It was a hard decision to sell, and leave a home we’d lived in for
so many years. It’s filled with memories, of our work, our
friends and neighbors. We’ll never forget the travels we took
around the country from here, or the sailing on Long Island
Sound in our boats, Little Citizen and Citizen. But, most of all
we won’t forget the good times we had with our children. Being
all together was special.
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But we’ve done it! We’ve sold the house! Now it’s time for some
fun. We can take that trip we’ve been thinking about all
summer. Now we can head for the Canadian Maritime
Since we retired we have been camping each year, and last year,
in anticipation of selling the house, we bought a Class C, RV.
We had packed it and driven it from Florida. It was ready to go.
Well maybe not so quick, there are a few things we need to take
care of before we leave. The furniture needs to be put in storage,
in Florida. And we also have a full wine cellar.
The cellar is filled with $8 & $10 bottles that we bought trying to
keep our local wine shop in business. We’re afraid they can’t be
moved by interstate transit. We may have to carry them
ourselves. But through the heat and hassle of the open road
they surely will turn to vinegar. Maybe we could store them
with a friend who likes cheap; I mean inexpensive table wine.
There is one other big issue. During the summer I’d enrolled in
a motorcycle-training course. I passed because of my stunning
grade on the written exam. Although, I almost laid the cycle
down in the final road test. That’s a non-recoverable error. But,
now I have my license.
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Having a license is pretty neat, but the problem is where will we
put the new motorcycle. I haven’t bought it yet, but it’s on my
list.
There will certainly be a family discussion about it, but I’m sure
Arlene will see how neat it will be.
We’ve been saying goodbye to our friends for weeks now. Even
since last year when the house didn’t sell, but now it’s different.
It’s for real, and we will truly miss them. So one more time we
say so-long. This time it’s really good-by. We’re ready to hit the
trail.
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RHODE ISLAND
We’re on our way to Cape Cod to visit with Dave and Carol, a
couple of long time friends. He is a fellow I worked with for
years in Connecticut. On the way we will stop and pickup a
Cherry or Rhubarb pie, because we’ve been dieting and each of
us have lost about 5 lbs, we deserve to treat ourselves.
Rhode Island is between the Cape, and Connecticut. It is one of
the premier states for harbors, boatyards, bridges and miles of
shoreline. We probably should stop and look around in
Newport. They’re having a home coming for the older 12-meter
boats.
These were the magnificent America Cup boats that stole away
our heart’s. America’s Cup was the only competition in sports
that had never been lost. For more that a century Americans
trounced all competition. That was true until Australia brought a
boat with a secret keel. A fin on the bottom of the dagger keel
made all the difference. Australia won four out of seven races.
I’ve always been a fan of a winner, but after losing the title we’ve
lost our interest.
However, it is difficult to leave the thought of these beautiful
boats, which we had followed for so long. We’ve seen them in
mothballs along Connecticut’s harbor warehouses. Two stories
about the races are unforgettable. Ted Turner, the founder of
the world wide news network CNN was a sailor. He skippered
the ‘Courageous’ to victory in four races. Baron Bic. the French
magnate who built his company on inexpensive Bic pens was
once a challenger. His boat had lost three straight races, and he
was mighty furious. He fired his captain and took over the helm
himself. In the last, and final race, the fourth, he became lost in
the fog and never finished.
The old boats were out racing in Block Island Sound. So while
we waited for their return we went to lunch at the Red Parrot.
Arlene had a fried catfish sandwich breaded in cornmeal. I had
a salad and a bowl of Lobster Bisque. We also had some fried
Green Tomatoes. We’ve lived in the South long enough to know
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that ordering fried tomatoes in Newport wasn’t such a good
idea. The cornmeal was okay, but the tomatoes were tasteless.
We suppose the chef knew what he was doing. However, the
buyer didn’t know his tomatoes.
Down on the waterfront the America’s Cup boats were coming
in. Intrepid came first. It blew in with its spinnaker flying. A
grand view. Straight past our dock, and around the harbor.
There were cheers from all quarters. Following it were the other
boats, one after another, with their spinnakers flying. What a
sight.
The inflatable tenders, Avon’s and Zodiacs, moved out to help
all of them into their dock. These boats don’t have motors. Near
us two boats, Freedom ’83 and Courageous were docked. They
tied up and immediately began to lower and lay out the Kevlar
sails folding and rolling them for storage.
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One of the most amazing things about these boats is the size of
their sails. Sail sizes increase geometrically to the size of the
boat. We once went from a 21 to 29 foot boat, but the sails
changed from the smaller size to 4 times larger. These 12-meter
sails are gigantic. Yet, the crew handled them like they were
feather bags. One fellow tossed one of these large sails over to
another like it didn’t weigh anything; the other caught it and
shoved it below through a small hatch.
It was a real treat to see these magnificent boats after years of
following them and even sailing on to the course to watch their
sea trials.
We left Newport early in the morning. A little further down the
road in Bristol was the Herreshoff Museum, named after a
major designer and builder of sailboats. Sometimes small
museums are really interesting. This one was special, dedicated
to the history of Yachting and the Americas Cup.
A friendly guy helped us park our RV in the crowded downtown
area. He was also talkative and told us he owned a Pierson 35.
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It’s one beautiful sailboat. He also took us into the museum to
the Sail room.
There was a display of Sail cloths from many years. These were
all canvas, and very heavy. Their weights ranged from a light 12
ounces to a heavy 40 ounces. That’s 40 ounces per square foot
or over 2 pounds. Neither Kevlar nor Mylar sails were in the
room. They are stronger and much lighter than duck. Those are
the strong lightweight sails that were used on Courageous. The
ones the crew was throwing around.
There were 60 boats in the Museum, all designed and built by
Halsey Herreshoff. Up-stairs however we peered into his
workroom, where there were hundreds of half hull models on
the walls. The designer takes these hulls and makes full size
plans from them. While we looked, Herreshoff’s grandson
opened the doors and invited us into the workroom, and
described how the half hulls were made, including the tools and
plans used to build the boats.
Herreshoff’ grandfather invented a tool that carved his half
hulls as he designed them. The measurement of the half hulls
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were then used to prepare the ship’s detail plans. Here is a plan
laid out, so that you can see the changing dimensions of the hull.
Boy was that something. Rhode Island is a sailor’s paradise.
There are lots of boatyards. Just down the way we came to the
Hinckley Boatyard. Hinckley makes large sailboats of
exceptional quality. In the yard were several gigantic boats, 70
or even 90 feet long. The mast on one, the ‘Atlantic’ was over
200 feet high.
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It was getting late and we needed to move on if we intended to
reach Cape Cod by evening.
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MASSACHUSETTS
Were sticking to the Atlantic shoreline as we headed north
towards Canada. That’s true although Massachusetts is a
beautiful state, and we lived on the western side where the
Bershire Mountains filled the hills and valleys with maples,
oaks, hardwoods, and small New England towns. Here in the
east, and on the finger called Cape Cod it has small pines, sand,
and lots of people from Boston vacationing year around.
Dave and Carol’s home is one of those dream places that has
everything, location, location, location. It’s on Cape Cod’s
elbow, Harwich, and on a fresh water lake. Their backyard is a
beach with a couple of get-around-boats, canoes, sailboat, and a
dock that reaches far enough into the water for their motorboat.
Overlooking everything is their deck, which is shaded by a tall,
sprawling oak tree. Alongside the house is a greenway that you
can walk from one side of the peninsula to the other, from the
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Oceanside to the Bay. Sounds pretty nice doesn’t it? It’s as nice
as they are, and as much fun. It’s a great way to start our
vacation.
Arlene and Carol, get along well. They laugh a lot, and shop a
lot. I’m sure they’ve gone to every ChristmasTreeShops on the
Cape, that’s at least seven. At one stop they bought ‘Goo Gone’.
A magic oil that’s colored orange and smells like a newly split
orange. Goo Gone cleans everything. The sticky stuff on my
coffee cup, zip zip and it’s no longer sticky. Pine tar glued to our
side view mirror, ‘Goo Gone’. Arlene’s grease stained pants,
gone. It’s like having a genie in a bottle.
During our stay Dave took us to the Heritage Plantation, where
we walked around its manicured lawns and flower beds, to the
National Seashore, where we walked through the marshes, to
the Chatham Light, where we hiked through the sand.
Beach sand is tough to walk across as you sink in with each step.
My calves and thighs went rubbery within minutes. Our walk
was a good one, over a mile each way.
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In between we paddled a little and sailed the Sunfish a lot.
Alcort’s Sunfish was my first sailboat.
My neighbor, and I used to sail all over the West River near
Annapolis, Maryland. It was great fun and, later Dan and I
sailed our Sunfish. Nautical terms had always been a challenge
for me. I thought it unreasonable to have to translate them into
landlubber terms. Left for Port, right for Starboard, front is the
bow and so on. I never encouraged Dan to translate, only that
he should watch his ‘Starboard’ or, ‘off his bow’ or ‘off the stern’,
or ‘tighten the halyard’. It may have worked as he’s made a
career on the water, or more specifically under the water, in
Nuclear Submarines.
Alyx also sailed with me, but with a totally different outcome.
She was much younger, and our worst memory was her sliding
off the bow when the wind caught us, throwing her into four
inches of muck. She was not destined to become a sailor.
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We spent our evenings going to semi-pro baseball games.
There’s something folksy about those evenings, and hometown
ball games. A certain flavor that you can’t get in larger cities.
When we didn’t go out we stayed on the deck under the oak
visiting and drinking. With pleasant evening breezes, colorful
sunsets, and Coconut flavored Rum in Pina Coladas, or Whisky
Sours, or Margarita’s. Not at once but during the week. All very
pleasant activities.
Our visit wasn’t just playing, and shopping. We also made some
changes to the dinette seats in our RV. Cutting them to a better
shape, and sanding the rounded corners. They fit even better
without sharp edges. We also strung lights along their deck, and
down the back stairs. All in all it was a busy week.
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While driving around David would stop from time to time at
garage sales. We found several things we couldn’t live without.
One was a small Oriental rug 2 ½ by 4 feet, mostly black and
brown. We negotiated a good price and bought it for less than
any rug ever, five bucks. When we got it back to the house I
washed it several times with Woolite, then vacuumed it until the
black dust from the decayed iron dye stopped sifting out on to
the floor. In my spare time I counted 400 knots per inch. What
a find. We’ll use it as a welcome mat in the RV.
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We had spent a nice week with them. On our last night we
packed up ready to make an early start in the morning.
An early morning start will help us navigate the Cape Cod traffic,
and then even worst Boston’s morning rush hour. We have a
friend that sold his place on Cape Cod and bought a condo in Ft.
Lauderdale Florida. He swore it was easier and quicker to fly to
Florida, and drive to his beach condo, than drive to Cape Cod
through the traffic. That may be true. We’ve only visited a few
times, but always ran into heavy traffic.
We timed our arrival in Boston just right, and weren’t
disappointed. It was wall-to-wall traffic. We weren’t afraid of
running out of gas. We have a large gas tank and could idle on
the tarmac for hours. But changing lanes was another issue.
Sometimes our size works to our advantage because we’re easy
to see, sometimes, when finding room in another lane it’s not
easy. It depends on the courtesy of other drivers. And Boston
drivers are known for their courtesy.
Once half way through, in downtown, the traffic let up. We
passed above Faneuil Hall and the famous Boston Seafood
Restaurant. Some of their chowder would be nice even in the
morning. We crossed the Charles River, and headed out of the
city. These roads are not the best, too much traffic to keep up
maintenance. We just bumped along toward New Hampshire
on Interstate 95, The old Boston Post Road.
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MAINE
The only stop we’ve ever made in New Hampshire heading north
is the State liquor store. It’s worth it to stop, yet this time we
passed by, over the bridge at Portsmouth, and into Maine.
Heading north on Interstate 95.
It’s early so we thought we’d go over to the Wooden Boat
Company, before going to Belfast and Ed and Molly’s in
Jackson. But after looking at the map and finding Belfast closer
we changed our mind. Maybe after visiting with them we’ll go to
Acadia National Park, and then visit the Wooden Boat
Company.
Ed and Molly are old friends from Connecticut that kept
thinking about farming and going to the eastern shore of Maine.
Finally, after a few years Ed gave up his printing business and
they bought a place outside of Belfast.
We’ve visited several times, each being quite an experience.
They have become organic farmers. First they were raising
rabbits. The garage was full of rabbits. They’re fat free, swell
food for hospitals and Co-ops, but shouldn’t be raised in the
garage beside the house.
On our second visit the rabbits were gone. This time we picked
lots of blueberries as Molly was canning vegetables for the
farmers market. The blueberries went for a good cause; wine. It
was so potent; we called it ‘Blueberry Dynamite’. During the
night we could hear the sound of it working in the large crocks,
blub, blub, blub.
We’re not sure what will be happening on this visit. Nor will we
be particularly surprised. We’ve known them for a long time,
and there’s no question about how clever and inventive they are.
Each time we visit we get to do something else with them. They,
unlike so many friends are eager to have us help out. We’ve
never fed goats before, and here was our chance. After husking
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the corn we tossed the husks onto the porch. That’s it, the goats
came running.
Ed works for an organic seed company. Each afternoon just
before he returns home there is a chorus that rises from the
animals. The horses hear him coming before anyone else. They
begin neighing from their stalls. The chickens begin clucking,
the goats blaaing, and Broomhilda, their shipyard-lab races
around the house and up the drive to greet him.
They are not disappointed; he hugs and kisses Molly, greets us,
slips into his boots, feeds the animals and leads the horses to
their grazing pasture. After washing up we have a nice dinner of
fresh vegetables, home grown pork and good cheer, Blueberry
wine.
It’s a delight, and during the evening our conversations carry on
many topics. Maine woods, organic farming, seeds, Monsanto’s
dream of taking over the world, and political and religious
tolerance. It’s well rounded and by the time we’ve all had
enough wine we’ve included the Big Bang and String Theory.
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We are unfamiliar with their life style, but fortunately they enjoy
sharing and telling us about it. We had a great time, visiting a
market, a winery and helping a little around the farm.
Among the interesting things we saw was an electric fan with no
cords attached. It sat on top of their wooden stove, and once
the fire was going the fan began to run. It circulated warm air
all over the room. Ed said it also worked on a block of ice.
During the summer it would blow cool air. It was pretty neat; I
wanted one. But by the time we got to the store I’d cooled down
a bit. It wasn’t that practical for us, as the largest block of ice
we’d ever have would be an ice cube. And with a little luck the
only wooden fire will be in a camp pit.
One day Arlene and I took a trip to Old Town, where they make
the legendary canoes. We’d hoped to go on a tour, but found
that their insurance agents wouldn’t let anyone into the shops
where they bend and build their boats. Instead we were able to
watch a film. Some how we were not impressed by this situation
and didn’t make it through the film. We left. Needless to say
they’re on our top-10-dogs list.
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On our last day we went down the road over to the village of
Brooks for breakfast. Our effort around the farm had paid off
and we were beginning to eat like farm hands. Breakfast at
Ralph’s was Belgian Waffles piled high with real whipped cream.
Arlene was in heaven. A compote dish of little Maine
blueberries, eggs, and hash browns, French toast and a couple of
cups of coffee.
There was a gathering of women and children all conversing and
having blueberry pancakes and eggs. Ralph’s might have been
the town meeting hall. We usually don’t get to see this kind of
community spirit at home and thought it was very neighborly
and family oriented It was quite a send off!
Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go to Mount Desert Island,
and Acadia as it was less than 100 miles away.
The French arrived here at Mount Desert Island early in the 17
th
century. By the 20 century it had become a playground for the
th
wealthy, and in 1919 President Wilson named this park. The
first east of the Mississippi, The Lafayette National Park. Phillip
Champagne was the first European to set foot on Cadillac
Mountain, and he called it Acadia. By 1929 its name had been
changed back to Acadia.
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By early afternoon we’d driven to the campgrounds and found a
suitable site. It’s a large park and there are several
campgrounds,. We chose the ‘Blackwoods’ because it had
electricity and was near Bar Harbor, island central.
We had a good site, level, electricity, close to the head, and in a
shady grove of pines.
National park campgrounds have gone downhill in the last
couple of decades. Each administration, has cut back on their
support for them. They often are overwhelmed by the number
of visitors, run down, under staffed and even worse contracted
to private outfits. Here at Acadia unlike so many National Parks
we were pleased with the camp.
It had gotten cool and some said we might have a frost the next
morning. Arlene thought that would be okay as she would just
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pull up the covers, snuggle down and wait for her husband to
serve her a cup of coffee.
We stayed a couple of days, going around the Island, where
every harbor was filled with moorings, lobster boats, yawls,
ketches, sloops, and stinkpots.
In the mountainous hills, beautiful homes had been whittled out
of the rocky slops. They stand out from the pine-covered
hillsides or on rocks jutting into the water. It’s a lovely, dream
like New England vacationland.
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We went up to the top of Cadillac Mountain and watched a
couple of cruise ships pull into French Bay. While there we
watched the sunset from the mountain. That’s a change, but we
weren’t getting up in time to be the first to see it rise over the
United States.
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Approaching Bar Harbor, the traffic picked up and became
heavy. Not like Boston, but never-the-less, bumper-to-bumper.
They’ve setup a separate place for RV’s, which we eventually
found and parked. Narrow streets and lots of pedestrians makes
it interesting when you take the time to enjoy it. We did.
Bar Harbor has lots of restaurants and tourist shops. A pretty
town square where every weekend there’s another kind of show
or display going on. Down town this week was an art show. It
was nice, and I’m sure the artists were there for the summer.
These artists and summer service people have a life of their own
here, and in many of the vacation spots around the country. It’s
a special experience and we have met many seniors that still love
talking about their experiences.
We found a kayak dealer who told us where we could rent a
tandem. We didn’t have any way to carry his boats away from
town, and didn’t want to paddle in the bay. We’d have to wait to
go kayaking.
One day we did drive over to Brooklyn, and the ‘Wooden Boat
Company’. Once off the main highway, Maine is as interesting
as any part of America. Their back roads lead to small villages
general stores and a totally different life style than the Interstate
which so many see. It’s filled with warm and quiet people living
a slower life than we’d expected.
‘Wooden Boat’ is the magazine people, who are tucked away
along the many miles of Maine coastline. They also run summer
classes for building small boats. They offer classes in sail,
canoes, skifts, and kayaks. It was interesting and I immediately
wanted to go to a class and build a kayak.
We could sign up to build a 17-foot Chesapeake kayak. This time
it wouldn’t be a model. We could camp on the grounds. Meals
were included in the tuition. Arlene, as my spouse, could sign
up for half price. Six people would be in a class, and of course
with only one boat being built, there was a question of who
would get it. They had already solved that problem, by using a
lottery. Our chances were pretty good, 2 out of 6. The winner
would take the boat home. The losers wouldn’t really be losers
though, because they had firsthand knowledge of building the
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kayak, and it’s plans. If they so desired, they could build another
one for themselves, probably in their basement.
We were still in hopes of going kayaking. The fellow back in Bar
Harbor told us about a rental place on Long Lake. So we took a
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exploratory expedition over to the lake. The lake was long, yet
the road only crossed at one end. That’s typical of the north
woods where access is limited to the great outdoors. Otherwise
we’d have to know where each side road led, which were
driveways, and which weren’t.
For some time we’d understood that a tandem kayak was a quick
way to get a divorce. Everyone calls them Divorce Boats. I
suppose it’s because men, and women have different strengths,
cadence, and interests. Never-the-less we wanted one for a
paddle on the Long Pond. Despite visiting Old Town, and
swearing off their boats we had no choice. There were no
Wilderness Pamilico’s here in Acadia, only Loon tandem kayak’s
built by Old Town. Despite our resistance we signed up.
While we changed into our paddling clothes, Keen water shoes,
nylon green pants, life jackets and Solar, French legion hats, and
grabbed our Kevlar paddles the helpful sales lady put our
tandem on a trolley, and rolled it down the hill, across the road
and onto the dock. We followed.
I lifted one end of the kayak and began moving toward the
water, but my foot got stuck between the docks planks and I fell
flat; on my elbow, my fist, and probably on my head as they all
ached as soon as I got the boat off of me. My elbow and ankle
were sore, as I lowered the boat into the water and helped
Arlene into it. I climbed in after her and pushed off.
We paddled several hours. The wind was strong enough to blow
up a few white caps. We stuck to the windward side where the
trees protected us from the wind. This gave us a chance to take
our time, paddle in, and around the inlets, and admire the
woodsy cabins as we passed.
It was grand, and we really enjoyed ourselves. What they say
about paddling together is true. Let’s not argue the matter, just
say that Arlene, and I are better lovers, and leave it at that.
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Lobster dinners are a must, and after the paddle we needed to
find a place to eat. We had been told about a Lobster Pond.
That’s a place where you choose the lobster swimming around in
an aquarium as your meal. There’s lots of these places around,
as well as nice restaurants. This place sounded like fun.
After we dried off we headed over to it, but found it closed.
Instead we stopped at a restaurant with only one car in the
parking lot. I’m not going to tell you how bad dinner was, nor
how expensive it was. Only this, never, ever, ever, stop at a
restaurant where there’s only one car.
We’ve had a great time here, and are ready to go. We’ll leave in
the morning for Canada and the Bay of Fundy National Park.
We’ve cleaned out our larder, eaten all our fresh vegetables and
fruit. Our boarder crossing should be a breeze.
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It’s always exciting going across the border. Canada is a little
more hassle free than Mexico, but still it’s an anxious time. We
wonder if they will find something, and refuse to let us in or out.
We always carry our passports with us, and answer any
questions as simply as possible. A ‘yes’ or ‘visiting’ or ‘no’
generally goes a long way. It’s more difficult if they are friendly
and want to chat.
Matt has always given us good advice. He, as a Vermont State
Trooper has worked with the Border Patrol, and understands
just how powerful, or controlling they can be. I once wanted to
take Bear Spray with us, as I don’t do guns. It represents our
level of protection and security, which is pretty low. He thought
it was a good idea, but before we got to the border we should
throw it away. Once across, into Canada we could buy another.
Just don’t take it over the border.
I’d asked why, and he said they’d confiscate it. So what’s the big
deal. I’d just buy another later. ‘No No’, he replied they’d
confiscate your entire rig. ‘Everything’ I said, well that’s a bit
different isn’t it. ‘Why didn’t you say that from the start’? He
replied that I was getting the picture.
Our crossings after that conversation have taken on a whole
different attitude and approach.
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NEW BRUNSWICK
HELLO! CANADA.
Crossing was without fanfare. Going from one State into
another usually causes the environment to change, as well as the
roads. Crossing into Canada here between rural Maine, at Calais
and New Brunswick is just about the same. We’re surrounded
by the same pine, and a birch tree forest in lightly rolling hills.
We drove into St John to convert some dollars into Canadian
money. Their currency is much prettier than ours. But the fun
of converting in Canada is when there is more than one bank.
We went to the center of town, where there were three banks
around the square.
Each one had a different rate. We settled on the lowest. Felt
pretty smart exchanged $50.00 and headed back out of town.
We were real financiers.
Fundy National Park has three large camp sites. I had been here
years ago when there was only one, at Headquarters. That’s
where we wanted to camp, but found that it was full. We settled
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on the only one with open sites. It was not as nice as either of
the others, nor was it close to Alma the nearest town.
In the next two days we went to Headquarters and waited in line
to get a site. Each day we were turned away, but we did manage
to upgrade our camp site to the second level. On the third day
we made it into the Headquarters camp.
It was worth it. From this camp we could walk to the evening
programs, attend classes, golf, and walk into town. Campsites
were pretty close together, but we now had electricity.
It had been raining since we arrived and there didn’t seem to be
any let up. So we walked, with slickers, down into Alma, for
lunch. We had a cod sandwich, bought a couple of sticky buns,
and on the way back to camp picked a bowl full of raspberries
from the roadside. In the evening we walked through a light
drizzle to the amphitheater for a Ranger’s presentation. This
was the life. This is why we wanted to be at the Headquarters
camp.
On our first day at Headquarters I signed up for a weaving class.
Weaving was on a wooden loom. These contraptions are both
complicated and simple. The complicated portion is the
construction that allows one to set up the thread so a spindle can
be passed between each line above and below to weave the cloth.
During class I wove four dinner mats.
The Egyptians wove silk cloths with a 1000 stitches per inch,
thousands of years ago. Those being as fine as the best Oriental
rugs woven today. Our new Cape Cod rug was wool with a
cotton warth. It only has 400 stitches per inch.
This simple aspect took us thousands of years to figure out how
to automate it. Looms are essentially a digital structure. They
can either have a value of one or zero. That’s the foundation of
our communications world today.
Just as my fifth grade ruler was used for Morse Code. That’s
another story, but the six inch length of the ruler was used as a
dash and the end a dot. It of course required visual contact, but
was silent and effective in the classroom.
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The Bay of Fundy is known for the largest tides in the world.
And we were eager to see them. But as we looked out from the
hillside overlooking Alma we saw nothing but clouds. Take a
look at this picture, the clouds are not only covering the village,
but they are so thick that it would be dangerous to drive. We
asked ourselves if there really was a town.
The answer was yes…It’s BRIGADOON!… not Alma. We
obviously had to be here at the right time. The right time, and
look what happened, before our very eyes.
It was such a miracle that only Lerner and Lowe, could describe
it. Here from the hills and their words…..
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“Brigadoon, Brigadoon,
Blooming under sable skies,
Brigadoon, Brigadoon,
There my heart forever lies.
Let the world grow cold around us,
Let the heavens cry above!
Brigadoon, Brigadoon……”..
But the joy of being here is a different sentiment……
“Maybe the sun gave me the pow’r
For I could swim Loch Lomond and be home in half an hour.
Maybe the air gave me the drive,
For I’m all aglow and alive.
. What a day this has been! What a rare mood I’m in!
Why, it’s almost like being in love!
There’s a smile on my face for the whole human race!”
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As soon as the weather broke we took to the trails, and back
roads in the park. On one dirt road, in thick forest, a Moose
stepped out from the undergrowth and crossed just feet in front
of us, then back into the forest. We were stunned. Its spindly
legs lifted its massive body up to our eyesight. That’s pretty high
off the ground. We stopped, and peered into the woods after
her. She was gone. Later we marveled at her ability to move
around in the thick woods.
We stopped at a fresh water pond, and rented a couple of
Kayaks. I’d had enough of the tandem. This worked out much
better. I could paddle beside Arlene, either facing forward or
backward. We could talk, and hear each other. We could raft, in
that manner, and even have lunch.
This lucky Loon could care less about us, it wasn’t disturbed at
all. The water was colder than Maine’s, maybe because we were
so much further north, or maybe because there had been no sun
for several days. In any case it was nice not to be splashed by
my partner’s paddle strokes.
Even though we can see how dense the forest is along the water’s
edge, it is difficult to tell how dense it is beyond. It is, dense,
only the trunks of the trees grow closer together without much
foliage. Our Kayak outing was great. Singles go a long way to
help enjoy this wilderness.
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Later while driving around we came across a covered bridge.
We’ve seen lots of them, even in Georgia, but with few
exceptions can’t figure out why anyone would bother to cover
them. Of course, we believe they were a place to stop with a
horse and buggy during inclement weather. Often though they
are in strange places. This one was in the middle of nowhere,
just crossing a creek that was headed for the Bay.
We pulled over to the side of the road, took a few pictures, and
found a path down to the water.
We took the trail and were able to hike down along the shoreline
onto a sandy beach where the stream reached the bay. It was a
lovely hike and along the way we passed several waterfalls.
Anytime we’re along tidal seas, Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico we
are careful to take the change into consideration. It’s
particularly important here on the Bay of Fundy. These tides
are huge. The creek that we walked down, in a few hours be only
a thin stream, which we could jump over.
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One day we were near Headquarters, at the Golf Pro shop.
Outside the pro shop was the first tee. And what a wondrous tee
it was, the green lay 200 or more feet below, and across a small
creek. It was enough to get us interested, and challenged. We
signed up immediately to play the course and, went back to
camp to get our clubs.
I might say that we never have enough space to carry everything
that we need. Despite being poor players our golf clubs always
travel with us. We have reduced the bag to a travel bag, and a
few less clubs. But, we never skimp on balls.
The course was so much fun. Each hole had a trick to it. Many
were just plain intimidating, with raised tee’s, raised green’s,
and forest in between. Others followed beside streams, and then
there were doglegs. We were right to bring along an extra ball or
two.
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We returned to Alma, several more times. Each time stopping at
the bakery, the grocery, and a restaurant for lunch, a snack or
dinner.
During these walks we found the harbor and tide at different
levels. Sometimes there was no water along the docks, and the
fishing boats lay on their side. Other times the river would be
full and the boats twenty feet higher tied to the piers.
Once we climbed down around the bridge and walked out over
the gravel and sand, following the canal out of the harbor. You
can see how far we got to the edge of the point at the end of the
harbor. It was about a half mile. It’s only fair to say ‘Don’t
repeat this at home’. We had no idea about these tides, how
long they would be out, when they would return, and most of all
how quickly they returned. We did know that we could neither
swim nor sail against a 6-knot current. And when the tide came
in it would be greater than 6 knots. The rise was greater than 20
feet and if the moon and sun were working together it could be
higher.
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50
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