"I love Nova Scotia!"
These were my exact words when we walked into the information center at Port Hastings prior to driving on to Cape Breton Island. We had been driving for about an hour since getting off the Northumberland Ferry from Prince Edward Island. The mountains and forests of NS were incredible and I was on a high. The information center was full of people and the staff of 10 were mostly busy helping them. My exuberance had gotten the best of me and my “I Love Nova Scotia!” was a bit loud. All the staff stopped doing what they were doing and almost in unison, replied, “So Do We!” What a fuss! Big smiles around and I then accused them of keeping this place a secret. They explained they were doing there best to get the word out and then treated us like royalty as they explained the ins and outs of Nova Scotia.
Our first objective in Nova Scotia is exploring Cape Breton Island and the world famous Cabot Trail. We made the small harbor of Baddek our staging point as Suzy picked out a nice campground there. Just before the campground I made a wrong turn onto the Cabot Trail highway and going the wrong way. Uphill and no turn arounds in sight. We kept going, higher and higher and nothing in sight. I finally gave up and pulled into a narrow driveway. Couple of blind corners as I backed out to try and turn around on the busy highway. Stopped traffic in both directions as I maneuvered the 5th wheel to do a 180. Then we were off again with only about 8 cars and drivers shaking their heads.
We pulled in to our very narrow pull through slot and met our neighbor from Lubbock, TX with his 55 foot super deluxe motor home, 20 trailer for his sports car and trophy wife. Man with everything. When I extended the slider on his side my slider and his slider were (no exaggeration) 9” apart. Talk about having close neighbors. We both chuckled how the spots are becoming narrower and narrower. Not how our RVs are getting wider and wider. Suzy and I chuckled in private on how “WE” were now the Clampets next to their luxurious rig. Granny and Jethro no less.
Suzy very disappointed we can’t get the internet from here. Only spot wifi works is on the counter in the office. A bit disrupting to their business, but they advertised free wifi. Suzy has been on a bad run picking RV campgrounds. Out of her last four picks, three were pretty sketchy. She was likewise as unsuccessful on picking bakeries and restaurants lately. She is a bit gun shy now about making those BIG decisions.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Back on the Internet
We have had a few days of no internet. The park we were at in Baddek, NS said it had internet but you had to be in the office with your computer on the counter to get it. I was tempted this morning pulling out to put duct tape over the WIFI on the sign at the entrance.
We are in Halifax tonight in a nice park WITH internet so will start to catch you up.
We went through Tropical Storm Denny last night a week today after Hurrican Bill. Think we got more rain with Denny. Anyway that was interesting! Will blog about it more later.
Will attach last two blogs on the Confederation Trail and then more tomorrow.
Leg Three Summerside to Milton 62 km 37 miles
I had to take two days off for the hurricane, first day off was for the torrential rains on Sunday and Monday was a move the RV and dry everything out a bit day. My bike is covered in red dust and mud. No sense cleaning it as I still have a 100km to go after today’s ride. Maybe finish it off tomorrow. Then take the ferry across the Bay of Fundy to Nova Scotia on Thursday. The third leg was a bit more uphill then the previous two legs, but I can’t complain as uphill on an old railroad bed is never steep. Trains don’t do steep. I must have been a bit tired at the end today as I got to where I was to meet Suzy outside Charlottetown and there was no sign of her at the rendezvous. So I walked around for a minute or two until Suzy honked the horn, she was sitting in the truck about 20 feet from where I was standing.
New smells today included a creosote plant and a hog rendering factory. Only bad thing about old railroad beds is they always go by industry and some industry is smellier then other. Lots of bicyclists out riding today. I was beginning to wonder in the first two days if the trail was quarantined. Saw the first downed tree from the remnants of Hurricane Bill. PEI really got off light as did Nova Scotia. There have been a few puddles but no trail closings.
I have discovered the perfect food for rebuilding tired bike legs; fresh PEI mussels. They are going for less then two bucks a pound and are amazingly fresh. Boil in the kitchen without any residual smells. Some are orange on the inside and some white. The orange ones are a little sweeter. But they are all great. The harbor where we bought the mussels is full of lobster boats and the shore is piled high with lobster pots. Got some great pictures.
Leg Four Milton to Elmira 100km 62 miles
I knew it when I started out in the morning, this was going to be toooooo long a ride today. On a road bike 60 miles is fine, on a mountain bike 60 miles is like a 100 on a road bike. The wind when I awoke was rocking the 5th wheel so I was hoping Suzy’s sore throat would be too bad for me to leave her. But of course, she woke up feeling much better and I had my work cut out for me. Why had I blogged that I was doing the trail? If not I might have chucked it. On the way to the drop off point in Charlottetown I noticed the wind was coming from the SE and I would be biking NW so all of sudden things were looking up. Sure enough, a bit of wind help was there and better yet, I wasn’t bucking it.
Caught my first leaf of the early early fall season, this first leaf was actually caught by my handle bars. Each year I try to catch as many falling fall leaves (in the air or they don’t count) as I can while hiking, running, or biking. So I got a real jump on fall this year.
The first 50 km flew by and I was feeling good. Maybe too good, as I went out a bit fast and now at 60km I was not feeling so strong. Stopped and had horrible hot dog bun with old beef in it, couldn’t eat it, so had a Hershey’s and a banana and hit the trail. A burst of energy came my way and the next thing I knew I was at 75 km and rolling. Pulled into Elmira, an old railroad station, after 4 hours, 59 minutes and 45 seconds, just under my target 5 hours. Whooeee. But where was Suzy. I laid down on the grass and using my helmet for a pillow dozed off for an hour and the rattler woke me. Suzy had got stuck in a backup from an accident and road construction. She was a bit frayed, and I was worried and tired, we didn’t make the best of partners on the road home. She had bought this nice beaded bracelet that was supposed to be good for communication and we decided it was having the opposite impact on our communications. But we have recovered and are on our way to catch a ferry tomorrow from PEI to New Glasgow, Nova Scotia. Then three days on up on Cape Breton and the Cabot Trail. Then the plan is to hit Halifax and begin winding up our Canadian adventure.
We are in Halifax tonight in a nice park WITH internet so will start to catch you up.
We went through Tropical Storm Denny last night a week today after Hurrican Bill. Think we got more rain with Denny. Anyway that was interesting! Will blog about it more later.
Will attach last two blogs on the Confederation Trail and then more tomorrow.
Leg Three Summerside to Milton 62 km 37 miles
I had to take two days off for the hurricane, first day off was for the torrential rains on Sunday and Monday was a move the RV and dry everything out a bit day. My bike is covered in red dust and mud. No sense cleaning it as I still have a 100km to go after today’s ride. Maybe finish it off tomorrow. Then take the ferry across the Bay of Fundy to Nova Scotia on Thursday. The third leg was a bit more uphill then the previous two legs, but I can’t complain as uphill on an old railroad bed is never steep. Trains don’t do steep. I must have been a bit tired at the end today as I got to where I was to meet Suzy outside Charlottetown and there was no sign of her at the rendezvous. So I walked around for a minute or two until Suzy honked the horn, she was sitting in the truck about 20 feet from where I was standing.
New smells today included a creosote plant and a hog rendering factory. Only bad thing about old railroad beds is they always go by industry and some industry is smellier then other. Lots of bicyclists out riding today. I was beginning to wonder in the first two days if the trail was quarantined. Saw the first downed tree from the remnants of Hurricane Bill. PEI really got off light as did Nova Scotia. There have been a few puddles but no trail closings.
I have discovered the perfect food for rebuilding tired bike legs; fresh PEI mussels. They are going for less then two bucks a pound and are amazingly fresh. Boil in the kitchen without any residual smells. Some are orange on the inside and some white. The orange ones are a little sweeter. But they are all great. The harbor where we bought the mussels is full of lobster boats and the shore is piled high with lobster pots. Got some great pictures.
Leg Four Milton to Elmira 100km 62 miles
I knew it when I started out in the morning, this was going to be toooooo long a ride today. On a road bike 60 miles is fine, on a mountain bike 60 miles is like a 100 on a road bike. The wind when I awoke was rocking the 5th wheel so I was hoping Suzy’s sore throat would be too bad for me to leave her. But of course, she woke up feeling much better and I had my work cut out for me. Why had I blogged that I was doing the trail? If not I might have chucked it. On the way to the drop off point in Charlottetown I noticed the wind was coming from the SE and I would be biking NW so all of sudden things were looking up. Sure enough, a bit of wind help was there and better yet, I wasn’t bucking it.
Caught my first leaf of the early early fall season, this first leaf was actually caught by my handle bars. Each year I try to catch as many falling fall leaves (in the air or they don’t count) as I can while hiking, running, or biking. So I got a real jump on fall this year.
The first 50 km flew by and I was feeling good. Maybe too good, as I went out a bit fast and now at 60km I was not feeling so strong. Stopped and had horrible hot dog bun with old beef in it, couldn’t eat it, so had a Hershey’s and a banana and hit the trail. A burst of energy came my way and the next thing I knew I was at 75 km and rolling. Pulled into Elmira, an old railroad station, after 4 hours, 59 minutes and 45 seconds, just under my target 5 hours. Whooeee. But where was Suzy. I laid down on the grass and using my helmet for a pillow dozed off for an hour and the rattler woke me. Suzy had got stuck in a backup from an accident and road construction. She was a bit frayed, and I was worried and tired, we didn’t make the best of partners on the road home. She had bought this nice beaded bracelet that was supposed to be good for communication and we decided it was having the opposite impact on our communications. But we have recovered and are on our way to catch a ferry tomorrow from PEI to New Glasgow, Nova Scotia. Then three days on up on Cape Breton and the Cabot Trail. Then the plan is to hit Halifax and begin winding up our Canadian adventure.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Leg Two of Confederation Trail
O’Leary to Summerside KM 45 go KM 109 (37 miles)
August 22nd dawned with mild wind and partly cloudy skies. The hurricane barreling toward Nova Scotia and PEI was not evident in the sky. Bill is expected sometime on early Sunday. So, fully equipped with Camel Back and all tools, Suzy dropped Tom at O’Leary promising to pick him up at the bike shop in Summerside in about three hours. One of the first modifications Tom made on this leg was raising the seat of his mountain bike making his pedaling stroke more efficient. He would have given anything for an allen wrench yesterday for this job. A bit more hilly then yesterday’s route but with a more efficient stroke and lots of water on his back (camel back) speed picked up and was almost able to run down a few of thousands of woodcock along the trail. Woodcocks are to PEI what Herons are to New Brunswick.
This section of the trail weaved back and forth crossing the main highway and edging people’s backyards in the small towns. Being an old railroad line, you could understand why all the grain elevators were next to the trail and that the trail went through all the small towns. Lots of railway history is marked with small exhibits along the route.
As I pulled into Summerside I was confident in finding the bike shop where we agreed to meet. However the first five people I asked about the bike shop gave me a puzzled look as they explained there was no bike shop in Summerside. I showed them the bike shop notation on the map and they just scratched their heads. Last thing I need after a hard three hour ride is another half hour of wandering around lost in town. As I rode down the trail along side the main highway, I hear a diesel engine rattling up on me. Sure enough, it is Suzy and she has already found the bike shop.
We pile the bike in the truck and head to the bike shop for some adjustments. Get there at ten to twelve and ask for a few quick adjustments. Guy says, sorry we close at noon. I say it will only take a few minutes. He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. I recognize all the sign of the dreaded Island fever in his attitude. It’s all about time off! No matter that his shop looked like it needed customers badly, this guy was infected with a serious case of Island Fever. I put the bike back in the truck and we headed to the nearest grocery store for some Gatorade, figuring I could make the adjustments myself.
August 22nd dawned with mild wind and partly cloudy skies. The hurricane barreling toward Nova Scotia and PEI was not evident in the sky. Bill is expected sometime on early Sunday. So, fully equipped with Camel Back and all tools, Suzy dropped Tom at O’Leary promising to pick him up at the bike shop in Summerside in about three hours. One of the first modifications Tom made on this leg was raising the seat of his mountain bike making his pedaling stroke more efficient. He would have given anything for an allen wrench yesterday for this job. A bit more hilly then yesterday’s route but with a more efficient stroke and lots of water on his back (camel back) speed picked up and was almost able to run down a few of thousands of woodcock along the trail. Woodcocks are to PEI what Herons are to New Brunswick.
This section of the trail weaved back and forth crossing the main highway and edging people’s backyards in the small towns. Being an old railroad line, you could understand why all the grain elevators were next to the trail and that the trail went through all the small towns. Lots of railway history is marked with small exhibits along the route.
As I pulled into Summerside I was confident in finding the bike shop where we agreed to meet. However the first five people I asked about the bike shop gave me a puzzled look as they explained there was no bike shop in Summerside. I showed them the bike shop notation on the map and they just scratched their heads. Last thing I need after a hard three hour ride is another half hour of wandering around lost in town. As I rode down the trail along side the main highway, I hear a diesel engine rattling up on me. Sure enough, it is Suzy and she has already found the bike shop.
We pile the bike in the truck and head to the bike shop for some adjustments. Get there at ten to twelve and ask for a few quick adjustments. Guy says, sorry we close at noon. I say it will only take a few minutes. He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. I recognize all the sign of the dreaded Island fever in his attitude. It’s all about time off! No matter that his shop looked like it needed customers badly, this guy was infected with a serious case of Island Fever. I put the bike back in the truck and we headed to the nearest grocery store for some Gatorade, figuring I could make the adjustments myself.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Leg One of Confederation Trail
The Confederation Trail
Leg One
We knew we wanted to do some biking on Prince Edward Island but had no idea there was a bike trail that went the entire length of the island (168 miles or 273 km). It is the old rail line turned into bike bath as part of PEI’s rails to trails program. The trail is made of small hard packed gravel not quite smooth enough for a road bike. It has a marker for each km and many shelters, tables, benches and landmarks.
Finding out about the trail at the big ? point (Canadian Information Points are marked by a sign with a big ?) at the end of the Confederation Bridge which brings you on the island was like someone throwing down the gauntlet for Tom. He couldn’t wait to get to our park and get out the bike and do the first leg. His hurry caused him to forget his Camel Back with all his bike gear (pump, patch kits, tools, water, food, money, reading glasses, camera, etc). So when we pulled into the trailhead at KM zero in Tignish on the upper west end of the island, Tom had some trepidation about starting out. But it was too far to go back and his excitement overcame his fear and he kissed Suzy good bye and promised to meet in O’Leary 45 km down the trail. Suzy was anxious as well to explore the many quilt shops between Tignish and O’Leary.
Mostly flat, wide, rambling through forest swamps and fields of potatoes, best describes the Tignish to O’Leary leg. The swamps were perfect places to see moose but where were they. They may be bike phobic moose? The other missing thing along the trail was bicyclists. Where were they? Perfect biking trail, nice sunny Friday afternoon, no wind, and no cyclists in sight. So much for my safety net, guess I will have to walk out if there is a breakdown.
Passing grain elevators being loaded with the seasons harvest provided the best of the many new smells. There was also the musky swamp odors, the smell of turned soil, and the salty sea smell where the trail got near the Atlantic.
The earth here in PEI is RED. Reminds me of the roads in the iron range in Northern Michigan. It is not just from iron tailings though, it’s the color of all the dirt, even in the potato fields. They even dye T-shirts with the dirt and call them PEI dirt shirts. So my bike and body quickly took on a red hue.
Looks like the biggest problem in maintaining the trail is the beavers. In all the swampy areas you can see where they tried to dam up the culvert going under the trail to create a pond. However, the PEI trail guys have become adept at out smarting the wily beaver. They make a cage out of rebar to cover the culvert and the put a 12 inch diameter plastic pipe with holes in it, in the rebar cage. The beavers can’t plug the plastic pipe but they try by covering the rebar cage, to no avail. The beaver frustration level has to be at an all time high here on PEI. Not sure I have ever seen this anti beaver mechanism employed in the states, probably a problem with PETA protests, eh? Next, O’Leary to Summerside.
Leg One
We knew we wanted to do some biking on Prince Edward Island but had no idea there was a bike trail that went the entire length of the island (168 miles or 273 km). It is the old rail line turned into bike bath as part of PEI’s rails to trails program. The trail is made of small hard packed gravel not quite smooth enough for a road bike. It has a marker for each km and many shelters, tables, benches and landmarks.
Finding out about the trail at the big ? point (Canadian Information Points are marked by a sign with a big ?) at the end of the Confederation Bridge which brings you on the island was like someone throwing down the gauntlet for Tom. He couldn’t wait to get to our park and get out the bike and do the first leg. His hurry caused him to forget his Camel Back with all his bike gear (pump, patch kits, tools, water, food, money, reading glasses, camera, etc). So when we pulled into the trailhead at KM zero in Tignish on the upper west end of the island, Tom had some trepidation about starting out. But it was too far to go back and his excitement overcame his fear and he kissed Suzy good bye and promised to meet in O’Leary 45 km down the trail. Suzy was anxious as well to explore the many quilt shops between Tignish and O’Leary.
Mostly flat, wide, rambling through forest swamps and fields of potatoes, best describes the Tignish to O’Leary leg. The swamps were perfect places to see moose but where were they. They may be bike phobic moose? The other missing thing along the trail was bicyclists. Where were they? Perfect biking trail, nice sunny Friday afternoon, no wind, and no cyclists in sight. So much for my safety net, guess I will have to walk out if there is a breakdown.
Passing grain elevators being loaded with the seasons harvest provided the best of the many new smells. There was also the musky swamp odors, the smell of turned soil, and the salty sea smell where the trail got near the Atlantic.
The earth here in PEI is RED. Reminds me of the roads in the iron range in Northern Michigan. It is not just from iron tailings though, it’s the color of all the dirt, even in the potato fields. They even dye T-shirts with the dirt and call them PEI dirt shirts. So my bike and body quickly took on a red hue.
Looks like the biggest problem in maintaining the trail is the beavers. In all the swampy areas you can see where they tried to dam up the culvert going under the trail to create a pond. However, the PEI trail guys have become adept at out smarting the wily beaver. They make a cage out of rebar to cover the culvert and the put a 12 inch diameter plastic pipe with holes in it, in the rebar cage. The beavers can’t plug the plastic pipe but they try by covering the rebar cage, to no avail. The beaver frustration level has to be at an all time high here on PEI. Not sure I have ever seen this anti beaver mechanism employed in the states, probably a problem with PETA protests, eh? Next, O’Leary to Summerside.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Safe and Sound!
We are safe and sound up on the north shore of PEI in Cavendish where we are on a bluff and can see the Atlantic. Very nice. We only got the rain from the hurricane so other then a small leak in one of the slideouts and some red mud on the truck and fifth wheel we did great.
Good news from the states. Tatum got the counselor job at Issaquah High School! Way to go Tate! !
What would a week be without another RV jack story. A few days ago the other jack froze up. This time I knew to stop operating it and not wreck the gear box and motor. The new left jack installed in Ohio was fine as was the gear box and motor. However the right jack was seized up. So after disassembling everything, I got inside the leg itself and found the long screw that raises the leg frozen. So I took it to a machine shop and while they were on a break (these French Canadians are serious about their breaks) I put it in a vise and twisted it with a pipe wrench getting it partially free. Turns out it was bent. That is why it was seizing up, like trying to turn a bent screw through a nut. Anyway got it free in the middle of the screw run but not on the ends and reinstalled today and its marginally working. Called 10 RV places to get a new one and they all said they would have to call Keystone (who makes the Montana) to see if it was in inventory, and then order it, a process that will takes many weeks. If it’s not in inventory then it would take months. (“After all it is in the states you know!”)
So I called the factory in Dayton, Ohio, where I had stopped to pick up the other one in July, and ordered one shipped to me in Canada at the RV park we are staying at in Bouctouche, NB. UPS cleared it through customs and delivered it on the 19th. Six says after ordering is a bit faster then the Canadians are used to. And we are good to go. OK, I promise no more jack stories or should I say Jaques stories. I will be more careful getting the rig on the truck where I suspect that I might have bent the legs. We are also using more blocking under the legs. And if another one gives out, I won’t mention it.
While waiting for the jack leg I had the tires replaced on the RV. They were getting a bit slim in the tread. Rather then try to get a few more thousand miles out of them but risk a blowout and subsequent damage to the underside of the RV, we decided to do it while we were waiting for the leg. So we are good to go for another 10,000 miles which should bring us back to the PNW.
Work and play are words used to describe the same thing under differing conditions.’ - Mark Twain
Good news from the states. Tatum got the counselor job at Issaquah High School! Way to go Tate! !
What would a week be without another RV jack story. A few days ago the other jack froze up. This time I knew to stop operating it and not wreck the gear box and motor. The new left jack installed in Ohio was fine as was the gear box and motor. However the right jack was seized up. So after disassembling everything, I got inside the leg itself and found the long screw that raises the leg frozen. So I took it to a machine shop and while they were on a break (these French Canadians are serious about their breaks) I put it in a vise and twisted it with a pipe wrench getting it partially free. Turns out it was bent. That is why it was seizing up, like trying to turn a bent screw through a nut. Anyway got it free in the middle of the screw run but not on the ends and reinstalled today and its marginally working. Called 10 RV places to get a new one and they all said they would have to call Keystone (who makes the Montana) to see if it was in inventory, and then order it, a process that will takes many weeks. If it’s not in inventory then it would take months. (“After all it is in the states you know!”)
So I called the factory in Dayton, Ohio, where I had stopped to pick up the other one in July, and ordered one shipped to me in Canada at the RV park we are staying at in Bouctouche, NB. UPS cleared it through customs and delivered it on the 19th. Six says after ordering is a bit faster then the Canadians are used to. And we are good to go. OK, I promise no more jack stories or should I say Jaques stories. I will be more careful getting the rig on the truck where I suspect that I might have bent the legs. We are also using more blocking under the legs. And if another one gives out, I won’t mention it.
While waiting for the jack leg I had the tires replaced on the RV. They were getting a bit slim in the tread. Rather then try to get a few more thousand miles out of them but risk a blowout and subsequent damage to the underside of the RV, we decided to do it while we were waiting for the leg. So we are good to go for another 10,000 miles which should bring us back to the PNW.
Work and play are words used to describe the same thing under differing conditions.’ - Mark Twain
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Awaiting Bill
We are in a nice woodsy park on the west side of the island waiting for the hurricane to come ashore tonight. Expect nova scotia to take most of the beating and then the east side of PEI so we will be fine. Will tie the truck to the 5th wheel for the night to make it 4 tons heavier to lift up. Now to go get some mussels for dinner. Did 109 km of the confederation trail that runs the lenght of the island. Another 150 km to go, 168 miles all together. No moose sightings yet.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A good lab will do that! By Jet
I am bit worried about leaving New Brunswick and heading for some island named after a prince. I like the Acadians here, even if they have small dogs. They like to sit in a circle and drink Canadian beer and tell stories. I like going around the circle giving each of them a chance to pet me. Once I complete the circle I start all over again. They like me, I can tell. Though I have to admit it is not all on account of what a great dog I am. Partially they like me because there is this young brown lab that is always barking and getting in trouble and basically making me look good. Hey, it works for me and he has years to learn.
Jack London has been having the opposite impact on my life as the brown lab. Or should I say Tom’s reading of Jack London’s “White Fang” and “The Call of the Wild”. These dogs and wolves in London’s novels are quite the amazing creatures. Unfortunately, Tom doesn’t realize he is reading fiction. He reads for an hour and then treats me like I am the luckiest dog in New Brunswick. I admit I have it good, but then again does a dog have to be lost in the wilderness and fight his way back to civilization to be respected?
I am not all that enthused about the Canadian National Parks as they don’t seem to have a dog friendly policy. They treat smokers better then us dogs. What is with that. Tom is good about smuggling me in a few times but looking forward to getting out more when we get into more dog friendly places.
Jack London has been having the opposite impact on my life as the brown lab. Or should I say Tom’s reading of Jack London’s “White Fang” and “The Call of the Wild”. These dogs and wolves in London’s novels are quite the amazing creatures. Unfortunately, Tom doesn’t realize he is reading fiction. He reads for an hour and then treats me like I am the luckiest dog in New Brunswick. I admit I have it good, but then again does a dog have to be lost in the wilderness and fight his way back to civilization to be respected?
I am not all that enthused about the Canadian National Parks as they don’t seem to have a dog friendly policy. They treat smokers better then us dogs. What is with that. Tom is good about smuggling me in a few times but looking forward to getting out more when we get into more dog friendly places.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Rogersville disguised as Bouctouche
Rogersville Transplanted
It seems like all the folks in Rogersville, NB, a small town inland and NW of Bouctouche, are here for the Acadian Day celebrations. They have known each other for a long time, so as a result, nothing any of them does, surprises the others. They enjoy sitting around sipping beer and telling stories on each other. (some sip more then others) They love their music and one of the bands that played Saturday night was entirely made up of folks from Rogersville. Good Acadian bands have a harmonica, mandolin, fiddle, guitars, drums, squeeze box, and even a near banjo. The Rogersville band had all of these and more. Most of them were related and they had stopped playing together some five years ago, but Roger (of Rogersiville) got them to come back together for Saturday night’s festivities. You would have never known they had been apart for years.
For a 17 hour Acadian party there were very few disagreements. After Suzy and I went to bed a couple of near ninety year olds did get in a fight and have to be separated. They were sent to opposite corners of the tent and things were fine. Suzy and I did witness a couple of guys so drunk, that one lit the other’s nose on fire trying to light his cigarette. Then the two of them tried to figure out what happened.
But what I will always remember about the crew from Rogersville, NB is how they took Suzy and I into their festivities and made us feel almost “Acadian”. Great memories are made of this stuff.
It seems like all the folks in Rogersville, NB, a small town inland and NW of Bouctouche, are here for the Acadian Day celebrations. They have known each other for a long time, so as a result, nothing any of them does, surprises the others. They enjoy sitting around sipping beer and telling stories on each other. (some sip more then others) They love their music and one of the bands that played Saturday night was entirely made up of folks from Rogersville. Good Acadian bands have a harmonica, mandolin, fiddle, guitars, drums, squeeze box, and even a near banjo. The Rogersville band had all of these and more. Most of them were related and they had stopped playing together some five years ago, but Roger (of Rogersiville) got them to come back together for Saturday night’s festivities. You would have never known they had been apart for years.
For a 17 hour Acadian party there were very few disagreements. After Suzy and I went to bed a couple of near ninety year olds did get in a fight and have to be separated. They were sent to opposite corners of the tent and things were fine. Suzy and I did witness a couple of guys so drunk, that one lit the other’s nose on fire trying to light his cigarette. Then the two of them tried to figure out what happened.
But what I will always remember about the crew from Rogersville, NB is how they took Suzy and I into their festivities and made us feel almost “Acadian”. Great memories are made of this stuff.
Tides In!
The Biggest Tide Changes in the World
The Bay of Fundy starts out in the Atlantic some 180 miles from the throat of the Chocolate River. (The river indeed looks like it is a flowing river of milk chocolate) The Bay is 80 miles wide where it begins and only 1 mile wide where it ends. Because of this funneling effect and also some rolling action of the Atlantic they experience some of the largest tide changes in the world. I think 52 feet is there record. Today when we visited, the tide changed some 39 feet between high and low tide. This massive tide change works as a rock carver on the shores it moves against. There are some amazing rock formations along the long bay as a result. Most of the formations looked like they could have been carved by man. Giant toadstools, phallic symbols, and towers and many more shapes dot the coastline of the Bay of Fundy. Across the New Brunswick side of the bay is Nova Scotia.
The Bay of Fundy starts out in the Atlantic some 180 miles from the throat of the Chocolate River. (The river indeed looks like it is a flowing river of milk chocolate) The Bay is 80 miles wide where it begins and only 1 mile wide where it ends. Because of this funneling effect and also some rolling action of the Atlantic they experience some of the largest tide changes in the world. I think 52 feet is there record. Today when we visited, the tide changed some 39 feet between high and low tide. This massive tide change works as a rock carver on the shores it moves against. There are some amazing rock formations along the long bay as a result. Most of the formations looked like they could have been carved by man. Giant toadstools, phallic symbols, and towers and many more shapes dot the coastline of the Bay of Fundy. Across the New Brunswick side of the bay is Nova Scotia.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Atlantic Time
What time is it?
We have been in New Brunswick for a week and we just found out that we are in a different time zone, the Atlantic Time Zone. So we now have our watches simonized to the correct time and things don’t really seem much different. I guess us retired folks can get away with not knowing what time it is in this fast paced world. It’s a good thing.
I am glad I have hair this morning. Last night doing a bit of work under the 5th wheel I must have bumped my head three times. Big knots this morning on the cranium. I remember when my dad used to bump his head, there was no hiding it on his bald head.
We have been watching the osprey fishing in front of our camping spot. They are quite the fisher birds. However, I don’t think they are much on the catch and release philosophy of fishing. Did see one release a fish the other day but I think it was more the fishes doing then the seahawk’s.
Also watching some beautiful grey herons in the estuary behind the eco dunes. Must be more then a dozen of them. We counted them a few times, as we had never seen so many herons in one place at one time.
Today is our seventh day in one spot, setting a new record for this trip. We had been caught up in seeing, seeing, seeing and have finally learned that we need to pace ourselves better and stay longer to really do some SEEING. We plan on heading out to Prince Edward Island by Friday. Will miss New Brunswick and its friendly people.
We have been in New Brunswick for a week and we just found out that we are in a different time zone, the Atlantic Time Zone. So we now have our watches simonized to the correct time and things don’t really seem much different. I guess us retired folks can get away with not knowing what time it is in this fast paced world. It’s a good thing.
I am glad I have hair this morning. Last night doing a bit of work under the 5th wheel I must have bumped my head three times. Big knots this morning on the cranium. I remember when my dad used to bump his head, there was no hiding it on his bald head.
We have been watching the osprey fishing in front of our camping spot. They are quite the fisher birds. However, I don’t think they are much on the catch and release philosophy of fishing. Did see one release a fish the other day but I think it was more the fishes doing then the seahawk’s.
Also watching some beautiful grey herons in the estuary behind the eco dunes. Must be more then a dozen of them. We counted them a few times, as we had never seen so many herons in one place at one time.
Today is our seventh day in one spot, setting a new record for this trip. We had been caught up in seeing, seeing, seeing and have finally learned that we need to pace ourselves better and stay longer to really do some SEEING. We plan on heading out to Prince Edward Island by Friday. Will miss New Brunswick and its friendly people.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Acadian Day
On August the 15th, 1755 the British ordered the Acadians (French in New Brunswick) to get out of the province. Many went deeper into the forests. Many went to Louisiana swamps where they became known as Cajuns. Others spread out across the continent. When they sensed a weakness in the British force in Canada most came back to the coast of NB. So today is like the Acadians 4th of July with music, parades and parties. “Viva Acadia” is to be heard hundreds of times today.
We love the Acadian music; French country western is what it sounds like to me. Today we heard six different Acadian bands, two at the morning’s farmers market, two at the afternoon festival at the Acadian center in Bouctouche and two more tonight at our RV park’s Acadian celebration, which is still going outside my window as I write this. Rick said to expect it to wind down around 1 AM (it actually ended at 3 AM). When I got up the next day at 6 there were still a few guys keeping the party embers alive.
It’s been a busy day and we have enjoyed being honorary Acadians. The people here in New Brunswick are some of the friendliest we have encountered in our travels. They love to talk and sing and talk and sing and talk and sing. I have spent hours around the group tent area here discussing life in the states and Canada. The New Brunswickians like to poke fun at the Newfoundlunders, or Newfies. A bit like we may poke fun at people from different parts of our country. Lots of good jokes about this, and many of them we learned didn’t work in English, only French. Quite disappointing for me but the Acadians thought it was funny.
We love the Acadian music; French country western is what it sounds like to me. Today we heard six different Acadian bands, two at the morning’s farmers market, two at the afternoon festival at the Acadian center in Bouctouche and two more tonight at our RV park’s Acadian celebration, which is still going outside my window as I write this. Rick said to expect it to wind down around 1 AM (it actually ended at 3 AM). When I got up the next day at 6 there were still a few guys keeping the party embers alive.
It’s been a busy day and we have enjoyed being honorary Acadians. The people here in New Brunswick are some of the friendliest we have encountered in our travels. They love to talk and sing and talk and sing and talk and sing. I have spent hours around the group tent area here discussing life in the states and Canada. The New Brunswickians like to poke fun at the Newfoundlunders, or Newfies. A bit like we may poke fun at people from different parts of our country. Lots of good jokes about this, and many of them we learned didn’t work in English, only French. Quite disappointing for me but the Acadians thought it was funny.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Soak them Clams!
Clams in Northcumberland Strait
So we were admiring the clams Steven and his two sons had dug. They go out in their stocking feet and “feel” with their sock protected feet and when they feel a clam, they dig and thus fill the bucket. They were selling some, so we decided to buy a bunch for dinner. Steven was telling me how to put them in salt water in the refrigerator for a day to clean themselves. He said I could walk across the road and get some salt water from the estuary. There was a pail along side of him with what looked like salt water and I asked if I could use some of that. He said, “Oh No! That is sock water!” Which with his French accent sounded like salt water to me, so I asked why not, its salt water. He said No, SOCK water, I washed my socks in that water……........Ooooops, we all laughed hard.
So we were admiring the clams Steven and his two sons had dug. They go out in their stocking feet and “feel” with their sock protected feet and when they feel a clam, they dig and thus fill the bucket. They were selling some, so we decided to buy a bunch for dinner. Steven was telling me how to put them in salt water in the refrigerator for a day to clean themselves. He said I could walk across the road and get some salt water from the estuary. There was a pail along side of him with what looked like salt water and I asked if I could use some of that. He said, “Oh No! That is sock water!” Which with his French accent sounded like salt water to me, so I asked why not, its salt water. He said No, SOCK water, I washed my socks in that water……........Ooooops, we all laughed hard.
Friday, August 14, 2009
The Smallest Best RV Place in Canada
The World is Upside Down!
Jet and I went for a run this morning on the Atlantic beach and for some strange reason the sun was not setting over the ocean but rising! Very strange for this westerner. Jet didn’t like the taste of the water either. So we were both out of sorts a bit on our morning run. New Brunswick shares a border with most of Maine, but we are on the Western border quite a way from Maine.
After stewing about some jack problems and the last couple of crowded parks (it is summer here in Canada) we were getting a bit testy today when we find this huge field across from a beautiful ecologically protected sand dune with brand new RV park sign. No RVs outside the two in the back. So I pull in, and Rick comes out and says he is open, just started last month. He has roundish clam in his hand and cracks it open telling it is a Quohaog (medium size clam) and offers it to us raw. It is great, as good as an oyster. So I am sold on staying here. We pull up on a large grassy spot overlooking the lagoon, dunes and Atlantic, PEI is offshore in the distance. Wow what a find and half the price as we have been paying in crowded places. Rick goes down and gets some scallops for us from a neighbor who farms them, he will get us lobsters for big neighborhood Lobster feed Friday night (six lobsters, $18) and then Saturday night he plays the guitar (bass) in a French Acadian Band that is having party here that we are invited to. So we will be here a week. Tonight we had clams that Rick’s friend dug out in front this morning at low tide. Suzy and I had nice walk on the boardwalk in the eco dunes this morning as the sun rose.
We will side trip to the Bay of Fundy between NB and Nova Scotia where they have 48 foot tide changes (tide changes not sunamis). We will also visit two national parks on the coast, the Acadian Festival on Saturday along with Farmers Market. Suzy even found a quilt shop in Moncton nearby to check out later. It will be good to sit a week and renew. Easy to get caught up in seeing things and going and going to see more and more. Its time to rest a bit so this doesn’t become work.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.’ - George Bernard Shaw
Jet and I went for a run this morning on the Atlantic beach and for some strange reason the sun was not setting over the ocean but rising! Very strange for this westerner. Jet didn’t like the taste of the water either. So we were both out of sorts a bit on our morning run. New Brunswick shares a border with most of Maine, but we are on the Western border quite a way from Maine.
After stewing about some jack problems and the last couple of crowded parks (it is summer here in Canada) we were getting a bit testy today when we find this huge field across from a beautiful ecologically protected sand dune with brand new RV park sign. No RVs outside the two in the back. So I pull in, and Rick comes out and says he is open, just started last month. He has roundish clam in his hand and cracks it open telling it is a Quohaog (medium size clam) and offers it to us raw. It is great, as good as an oyster. So I am sold on staying here. We pull up on a large grassy spot overlooking the lagoon, dunes and Atlantic, PEI is offshore in the distance. Wow what a find and half the price as we have been paying in crowded places. Rick goes down and gets some scallops for us from a neighbor who farms them, he will get us lobsters for big neighborhood Lobster feed Friday night (six lobsters, $18) and then Saturday night he plays the guitar (bass) in a French Acadian Band that is having party here that we are invited to. So we will be here a week. Tonight we had clams that Rick’s friend dug out in front this morning at low tide. Suzy and I had nice walk on the boardwalk in the eco dunes this morning as the sun rose.
We will side trip to the Bay of Fundy between NB and Nova Scotia where they have 48 foot tide changes (tide changes not sunamis). We will also visit two national parks on the coast, the Acadian Festival on Saturday along with Farmers Market. Suzy even found a quilt shop in Moncton nearby to check out later. It will be good to sit a week and renew. Easy to get caught up in seeing things and going and going to see more and more. Its time to rest a bit so this doesn’t become work.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.’ - George Bernard Shaw
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Backing In not Packing In
The Impossible Back In
Let me set the scene, beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon in Northeastern Quebec province, just a half mile off the St. Lawrence Seaway in an RV park called Camping Annie. Cute name and 4 stars so I figured it would be good even though the lady told me there was no drive through spaces. “Drive throughs” are spaces that you drive in one end and drive out the other without ever needing to maneuver much or back up. Lazy man’s RVing.
So we pay the two nights rent and get assigned site 49 (quarante neuf). We drive down the nice road and notice that there are really lots of sites in a small space and they are awfully narrow. Besides being narrow they are flanked by cement fire pits and trees. Now a trailer is 8 feet wide without the slide outs extended and I swear this site is maybe 11 feet wide, OK, you all know I exaggerate so let’s say really, 15 feet wide. However the entrance is exactly 90 degrees to the road. And the road is also narrow. My first thought was to go back and plead with the lady for an easier site. But then I notice about ten groups of Canadians all lounging in their chairs craning their necks in my direction to see what I am going to do. Seeing how I am an American and my rig is twice as big as most of theirs they are looking at me for their afternoon amusement. They are thinking there is no way this American cowboy is going to get his chuck wagon backed up into that box necked canyon.
But they don’t me and my recent experiences in RV driving. And it’s a good thing, for I must say, my experiences have all been a bit dicey. I am due a change in backing up luck. So I put on my game face (smile with confidence), say Bon Jour to all the craning necked Quebecois, and place Suzy in strategic spot where in my dreams I see our RV parked. Jet is hiding behind the back seat hoping to not be embarrassed, acting a lot like a teenager. I start my backing and turning and all is going well except; to come anywhere near getting in, I must turn the front of the truck over a small car. Thankfully, the owner, comes out and moves his car and then offers to help me in spite of the sneers from the other Canucks. He is helpful in just saying I am doing fine as I force the 34 footer with a 19 foot truck attached into a 90 degree turn, without a jackknife. I get it 2/3 in and pull ahead and then proceed back, one more pull ahead and we are in. “Perfecto!” The Canucks are not amused as now all they have left to do is try and get a tan on their very large abdomens under a partly cloudy sky. One fellow has such a walrus sized tummy he is absorbing 90% of the UVs in the whole park. He seems to be the most dissatisfied with the amazing back in miracle. I discretely thank the lad helping me “Merci bouquet, bon ami!” My Francois is gaining momentum, can you tell?
Of course I am very nonchalant about the whole thing until Suzy and I get inside where we are doing high fives and back flips, after which we put our game faces back on, go outside and hook up all the cords and hoses. I decide the next time I get assigned a tough site, I am going to say, “Come on, is that all the harder you can find, give me your best shot, something on the edge of cliff with slippery stones throughout and a high voltage line hanging down.” Well, in my dreams. After all I got it in here today in my dreams.
PS.
Next morning we wake up and we are surrounded on four sides by RVs, so close you can hear the snoring. As we quietly pack up and get ready to pull out I decided that Camping Annie is named because Annie in French must mean "sardines".
Let me set the scene, beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon in Northeastern Quebec province, just a half mile off the St. Lawrence Seaway in an RV park called Camping Annie. Cute name and 4 stars so I figured it would be good even though the lady told me there was no drive through spaces. “Drive throughs” are spaces that you drive in one end and drive out the other without ever needing to maneuver much or back up. Lazy man’s RVing.
So we pay the two nights rent and get assigned site 49 (quarante neuf). We drive down the nice road and notice that there are really lots of sites in a small space and they are awfully narrow. Besides being narrow they are flanked by cement fire pits and trees. Now a trailer is 8 feet wide without the slide outs extended and I swear this site is maybe 11 feet wide, OK, you all know I exaggerate so let’s say really, 15 feet wide. However the entrance is exactly 90 degrees to the road. And the road is also narrow. My first thought was to go back and plead with the lady for an easier site. But then I notice about ten groups of Canadians all lounging in their chairs craning their necks in my direction to see what I am going to do. Seeing how I am an American and my rig is twice as big as most of theirs they are looking at me for their afternoon amusement. They are thinking there is no way this American cowboy is going to get his chuck wagon backed up into that box necked canyon.
But they don’t me and my recent experiences in RV driving. And it’s a good thing, for I must say, my experiences have all been a bit dicey. I am due a change in backing up luck. So I put on my game face (smile with confidence), say Bon Jour to all the craning necked Quebecois, and place Suzy in strategic spot where in my dreams I see our RV parked. Jet is hiding behind the back seat hoping to not be embarrassed, acting a lot like a teenager. I start my backing and turning and all is going well except; to come anywhere near getting in, I must turn the front of the truck over a small car. Thankfully, the owner, comes out and moves his car and then offers to help me in spite of the sneers from the other Canucks. He is helpful in just saying I am doing fine as I force the 34 footer with a 19 foot truck attached into a 90 degree turn, without a jackknife. I get it 2/3 in and pull ahead and then proceed back, one more pull ahead and we are in. “Perfecto!” The Canucks are not amused as now all they have left to do is try and get a tan on their very large abdomens under a partly cloudy sky. One fellow has such a walrus sized tummy he is absorbing 90% of the UVs in the whole park. He seems to be the most dissatisfied with the amazing back in miracle. I discretely thank the lad helping me “Merci bouquet, bon ami!” My Francois is gaining momentum, can you tell?
Of course I am very nonchalant about the whole thing until Suzy and I get inside where we are doing high fives and back flips, after which we put our game faces back on, go outside and hook up all the cords and hoses. I decide the next time I get assigned a tough site, I am going to say, “Come on, is that all the harder you can find, give me your best shot, something on the edge of cliff with slippery stones throughout and a high voltage line hanging down.” Well, in my dreams. After all I got it in here today in my dreams.
PS.
Next morning we wake up and we are surrounded on four sides by RVs, so close you can hear the snoring. As we quietly pack up and get ready to pull out I decided that Camping Annie is named because Annie in French must mean "sardines".
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Bingo Night In Quebec
Bingo Night in Quebec
Beh trios, Beh trios long pause, Eeee quinze, Eeee, quinze, long pause Jjjj vingt-trois, Jjjj vingt-trois, ad infinitum……………………
You would think that this calling of the Bingo numbers would be like counting sheep when it came to falling asleep. Not quite, but it did have a similar impact on my eyelids while at the same time curling the corners of my mouth. The game of Bingo is big sport here in rural Quebec on Saturday night. The guys took all day in setting up the hall, complete with outdoor area for smokers that was close to windows so they could hear the numbers being called. Most of the players came from the countryside vs. the campground.
The old fella calling the numbers had his grandson on his lap. And the latter seemed hypnotized by the whirling balls in the bingo machine. The grandfather, commanded respect, with even the quickest of looks at a noisy section of the bingo hall; instant silence. Then on he would go with the calling of numbers. And of course the only word spoken in English all night was “Bingo!”
We began our day on the Isle d’Orelans which lies in the middle of the St. Lawrence River just northeast of the city of Quebec. It is only about 20 miles long but full of berry fields and artists boutiques (French for expensive shop). Very relaxing as most of the crowds were in Montreal still enjoying the New France Festival. The island reminded me of Vashon Island off West Seattle, close to major city but light years away in pace.
I am a bit slow this morning getting on the road toward the NE. I am backed into a tight spot next to the bingo hall and the picnic tables and the small train for the kids are blocking my egress. And the only one up beside Suzy and I is the neighbor’s rooster. He sounds very French with his Coc eh doodle du. So we wait for the rising of the all night bingo boys to disassemble the bingo grounds.
Beh trios, Beh trios long pause, Eeee quinze, Eeee, quinze, long pause Jjjj vingt-trois, Jjjj vingt-trois, ad infinitum……………………
You would think that this calling of the Bingo numbers would be like counting sheep when it came to falling asleep. Not quite, but it did have a similar impact on my eyelids while at the same time curling the corners of my mouth. The game of Bingo is big sport here in rural Quebec on Saturday night. The guys took all day in setting up the hall, complete with outdoor area for smokers that was close to windows so they could hear the numbers being called. Most of the players came from the countryside vs. the campground.
The old fella calling the numbers had his grandson on his lap. And the latter seemed hypnotized by the whirling balls in the bingo machine. The grandfather, commanded respect, with even the quickest of looks at a noisy section of the bingo hall; instant silence. Then on he would go with the calling of numbers. And of course the only word spoken in English all night was “Bingo!”
We began our day on the Isle d’Orelans which lies in the middle of the St. Lawrence River just northeast of the city of Quebec. It is only about 20 miles long but full of berry fields and artists boutiques (French for expensive shop). Very relaxing as most of the crowds were in Montreal still enjoying the New France Festival. The island reminded me of Vashon Island off West Seattle, close to major city but light years away in pace.
I am a bit slow this morning getting on the road toward the NE. I am backed into a tight spot next to the bingo hall and the picnic tables and the small train for the kids are blocking my egress. And the only one up beside Suzy and I is the neighbor’s rooster. He sounds very French with his Coc eh doodle du. So we wait for the rising of the all night bingo boys to disassemble the bingo grounds.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
What's Up Dog?
Jet tu tae (That’s French for Jet)
Been having fun on the great RV tour of 2009-2010. I have no idea where I am most of the time but dinner and breakfast keep coming regular so I am not too worried. I did wake up the other day noticing that everyone was speaking a different language. Thought it might have been because of the swine flu or something. Anyway its still going on and I am getting used to it. Most dogs up here in Quebec speak both Labrodorish and French so we have no problem.
You might have heard about me running onto a lake thinking it was a blacktop parking lot (the sun was in my eyes) in full chase of ducks. Yeah, I looked pretty funny when I discovered I was not on blacktop but on water. A bit of a surprise, and lucky for those ducks, as I was about to have them for dinner. Though with my soft mouth all that they had to worry about was being dissolved by my strong saliva. A good Lab will do that.
I bruised my nose getting to a window to view some dangerous RV’er walking by, so I look fierce, like one of Michael Vick’s dogs.
Course you know in Canada its not RV’er, as its VR’er, think they put their nouns in different places. Like me putting my stuffed animals in different places I guess.
They took me to a Flea Market in Margaretsville, NY. Now I ask you, why would I want to go to a flea market? The Catskills, had no cats either. Woodstock was full of hippies and one vicious Doberman pincher. Tom and Suzy were all reliving their lives of 40 years ago as I got dragged around the grounds of the Grateful Dead. Big Deal.
Seeing cute pics of my cousins in Seattle enjoying the 100 degree temps. Max looks like he is adapting well to Rufus. Wonder if he ever lets Rufus finish a bone, he never let me finish one without stealing it away. A good English Retriever will do that.
Not going to Labrador, the Canadian Maritime Province named after my proud breed. I am disappointed but I guess it’s a long expensive ferry ride and I can’t even get Tom to buy bigger dog bones, so how can I get him to pay for that ferry ride.
You tell me what other province or state or country is named after a dog breed…….French poodle doesn’t count. Stumped you; didn’t I?
Yeah, we Labs we are special, especially here in Canada, eh! Oui, Oui
Been having fun on the great RV tour of 2009-2010. I have no idea where I am most of the time but dinner and breakfast keep coming regular so I am not too worried. I did wake up the other day noticing that everyone was speaking a different language. Thought it might have been because of the swine flu or something. Anyway its still going on and I am getting used to it. Most dogs up here in Quebec speak both Labrodorish and French so we have no problem.
You might have heard about me running onto a lake thinking it was a blacktop parking lot (the sun was in my eyes) in full chase of ducks. Yeah, I looked pretty funny when I discovered I was not on blacktop but on water. A bit of a surprise, and lucky for those ducks, as I was about to have them for dinner. Though with my soft mouth all that they had to worry about was being dissolved by my strong saliva. A good Lab will do that.
I bruised my nose getting to a window to view some dangerous RV’er walking by, so I look fierce, like one of Michael Vick’s dogs.
Course you know in Canada its not RV’er, as its VR’er, think they put their nouns in different places. Like me putting my stuffed animals in different places I guess.
They took me to a Flea Market in Margaretsville, NY. Now I ask you, why would I want to go to a flea market? The Catskills, had no cats either. Woodstock was full of hippies and one vicious Doberman pincher. Tom and Suzy were all reliving their lives of 40 years ago as I got dragged around the grounds of the Grateful Dead. Big Deal.
Seeing cute pics of my cousins in Seattle enjoying the 100 degree temps. Max looks like he is adapting well to Rufus. Wonder if he ever lets Rufus finish a bone, he never let me finish one without stealing it away. A good English Retriever will do that.
Not going to Labrador, the Canadian Maritime Province named after my proud breed. I am disappointed but I guess it’s a long expensive ferry ride and I can’t even get Tom to buy bigger dog bones, so how can I get him to pay for that ferry ride.
You tell me what other province or state or country is named after a dog breed…….French poodle doesn’t count. Stumped you; didn’t I?
Yeah, we Labs we are special, especially here in Canada, eh! Oui, Oui
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Quebec City
Quebec City
Timing is everything they say. So is just plain dumb luck. The latter brought us to Quebec City on Aug 6, the first day of the La Fete Plein La Tete, or the Festival of New France. It is held every year in the old city and thousands dress up like the early French in costumes and put on shows, and exhibits and what all. The costumes are amazing. You would swear in the old city that you are walking around in the 17th Century. Reminded me of going back in history the day I was walking the mall in DC and came across thousands dressed in civil war costumes. Plays with the mind in a good way.
Looked at an excavation from the 1600’s of the original town. Very interesting seeing the old foundations of the early city. Right down to the foundations of the original latrines which of course I found most interesting and photographed to delight of Suzy. You just don’t find Pisseur history like this everyday.
I didn’t get a tricorn, the little three cornered hat the French wore but had my eye on a Quebec Nordique sweater. The city of Quebec is about 650,000 but they say this weekend it is will almost double in size. We will have to move our RV to another spot as we could only get one day here. The other spot is nearby so won’t take long. We are right on top of the city just across the St. Larent from town.
Also, with blind luck or Suzy’s good karma, we found an arts and crafts festival on the level of the Belevue judged festival in the NW. Amazing artisans, especially with wood. We got plenty of exercise walking the old city especially as it drops off 400 feet down to the waterfront, making for a great trip back up.
Was also told about the winter festival here which is amazing as well. Largest winter carnival in the world and lots of ice sculptures and even a hotel made of ice that you can stay in. Special beverage for winter carnival is the Caribou, made of brandy, vodka, sherry, and port. What no LaBatts or Molson. I did find Molson’s non alcoholic version of beer and it is not bad. Better then that Moose Piss they call Bitburger Drive. Speaking of piss again, only complaint I could muster about the beautiful Quebec City is all the horse drawn buggys don’t cathertize the horses pulling them. The odour of horse piss in some areas is enough to curl the tips of your tricorn. Always think of Kramer on Seinfeld and the horse “Rusty” when I see people taking these buggy rides.
When we leave Quebec City we will follow the St. Lawrence northeast until we turn inland around Matane toward New Brunswick. The French were good about naming everything “New this, or New that.” I guess they lacked imagination for an entirely new name. They should have called on the Indians more I think. Of course, I have heard that naming rights are expensive, just look at Safeco Field in Seattle. Maybe they should have called it the New Kingdome.
Timing is everything they say. So is just plain dumb luck. The latter brought us to Quebec City on Aug 6, the first day of the La Fete Plein La Tete, or the Festival of New France. It is held every year in the old city and thousands dress up like the early French in costumes and put on shows, and exhibits and what all. The costumes are amazing. You would swear in the old city that you are walking around in the 17th Century. Reminded me of going back in history the day I was walking the mall in DC and came across thousands dressed in civil war costumes. Plays with the mind in a good way.
Looked at an excavation from the 1600’s of the original town. Very interesting seeing the old foundations of the early city. Right down to the foundations of the original latrines which of course I found most interesting and photographed to delight of Suzy. You just don’t find Pisseur history like this everyday.
I didn’t get a tricorn, the little three cornered hat the French wore but had my eye on a Quebec Nordique sweater. The city of Quebec is about 650,000 but they say this weekend it is will almost double in size. We will have to move our RV to another spot as we could only get one day here. The other spot is nearby so won’t take long. We are right on top of the city just across the St. Larent from town.
Also, with blind luck or Suzy’s good karma, we found an arts and crafts festival on the level of the Belevue judged festival in the NW. Amazing artisans, especially with wood. We got plenty of exercise walking the old city especially as it drops off 400 feet down to the waterfront, making for a great trip back up.
Was also told about the winter festival here which is amazing as well. Largest winter carnival in the world and lots of ice sculptures and even a hotel made of ice that you can stay in. Special beverage for winter carnival is the Caribou, made of brandy, vodka, sherry, and port. What no LaBatts or Molson. I did find Molson’s non alcoholic version of beer and it is not bad. Better then that Moose Piss they call Bitburger Drive. Speaking of piss again, only complaint I could muster about the beautiful Quebec City is all the horse drawn buggys don’t cathertize the horses pulling them. The odour of horse piss in some areas is enough to curl the tips of your tricorn. Always think of Kramer on Seinfeld and the horse “Rusty” when I see people taking these buggy rides.
When we leave Quebec City we will follow the St. Lawrence northeast until we turn inland around Matane toward New Brunswick. The French were good about naming everything “New this, or New that.” I guess they lacked imagination for an entirely new name. They should have called on the Indians more I think. Of course, I have heard that naming rights are expensive, just look at Safeco Field in Seattle. Maybe they should have called it the New Kingdome.
Friday, August 7, 2009
End of the day in life of an RV couple
“The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.” - Albert Einstein
Setting up for the night.
So we arrive at the site and pay the folks the rent. Then we get a lecture on the “Rules”. Believe the Germans invented RV park protocol. Usually Tom is not paying attention so the “Rule Nazi” picks on Suzy. Then Suzy picks on Tom. Anyway we find our site and Tom figures out how to do the least amount of damage getting the rig into the site. Once we finally get it in our rented space we find its not level so we have to put stuff under the wheels to level it out, otherwise only half the frying pan works. Then we jack it up off the 5th wheel, pull out the truck, block the wheels, level it, hook up water, sewer and electricity and go inside to see what has fallen down in out travels. So far only lost one lamp, one closet clothes rod, and miscellaneous bananas.
Meet the neighbors. It’s like a box of chocolates when it comes to the neighbors. Didn’t know there was a French Canadian branch of the Clampet family. Yeah, Jethrow’s cousin Jaque is camped next to us here outside Montreal. He thinks after sitting around all day doing nothing that nine PM is a good time to start working on his motor home. Actually if he had started working on it 1999 he would still be busy. Anyway between his inability to seal his sewer connection and set his TV antenna we are being provide comedy with an odor in French. We are the only Americans in this park and we have found that most Canadians think Idaho is on a distant planet. When we tell them it has a border on British Colombia they are shocked. You don’t say, eh?
Talked to an old fella from BC last night. He was driving an old mobile home that had to be 25 years old. He was headed for Newfoundland and Labrador. Said he was having trouble driving in traffic as he was from small town in BC on coast. Complained about his rigs handling, noting that you really don’t steer these old rigs, you just kind of herd them. Must be looking out for him on the road ahead.
Setting up for the night.
So we arrive at the site and pay the folks the rent. Then we get a lecture on the “Rules”. Believe the Germans invented RV park protocol. Usually Tom is not paying attention so the “Rule Nazi” picks on Suzy. Then Suzy picks on Tom. Anyway we find our site and Tom figures out how to do the least amount of damage getting the rig into the site. Once we finally get it in our rented space we find its not level so we have to put stuff under the wheels to level it out, otherwise only half the frying pan works. Then we jack it up off the 5th wheel, pull out the truck, block the wheels, level it, hook up water, sewer and electricity and go inside to see what has fallen down in out travels. So far only lost one lamp, one closet clothes rod, and miscellaneous bananas.
Meet the neighbors. It’s like a box of chocolates when it comes to the neighbors. Didn’t know there was a French Canadian branch of the Clampet family. Yeah, Jethrow’s cousin Jaque is camped next to us here outside Montreal. He thinks after sitting around all day doing nothing that nine PM is a good time to start working on his motor home. Actually if he had started working on it 1999 he would still be busy. Anyway between his inability to seal his sewer connection and set his TV antenna we are being provide comedy with an odor in French. We are the only Americans in this park and we have found that most Canadians think Idaho is on a distant planet. When we tell them it has a border on British Colombia they are shocked. You don’t say, eh?
Talked to an old fella from BC last night. He was driving an old mobile home that had to be 25 years old. He was headed for Newfoundland and Labrador. Said he was having trouble driving in traffic as he was from small town in BC on coast. Complained about his rigs handling, noting that you really don’t steer these old rigs, you just kind of herd them. Must be looking out for him on the road ahead.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Part Deux "A Day in the Life of an RV person
Traveling Rituals
Suzy is manning (or womanning) the navigator’s station in the truck with Atlas, RV park info, internet highlights from recent searches, the guide to what is at every exit, Wheat Thins, the GPS, the IPOD, and Diet Coke. Oooops, we forgot to take out the tire cholks, and so nothing happens when Tom steps on the diesel. Back to take them out and check for anything else we forgot.
We are now on the road. Tom can be heard muttering at the small car that just swung in front of him causing him to hit the brakes trying to bring ten tons of truck and trailer to a stop in ten feet. The little guy doesn’t even know how close he came to dying, and its best for the seat of his pants he doesn’t.
Tom muttering as he turns a sharp corner getting on freeway and the back wheels of the fifth wheeler are up on the curb running over someone’s summer flowers. I hear that in the old days they pressed flowers also, but used a book vs. a fifth wheeler.
Suzy is calling RV Parks checking on availability, amenities, prices, and proximity of quilt shops or fabric stores. Tom keeps asking “How much?”
After three Diet Cokes Suzy is wondering if there are any rest stops in the next 60 seconds. Fortunately, Tom’s coffee bloated bladder is asking the same question. We stop at the rest stop and take turns helping Jet check his pee mail as we use the restroom. Of course Suzy buys another Diet Coke at the rest stop and Tom pulls out the thermos of coffee and we repeat this morning ritual ad infinitum.
Every now and then we pull into a gas station for diesel. Just finding a station that we can maneuver the rig through is a challenge so truck stops work real good. The other day in NY Tom pulled into a station and almost ran over the pump. He was so intent on missing the pump he forgot to look for an exit route. Oooops, no exits, what do we do now? Back up, carefully, and find a tight corner and sharp bend and finally get out without fuel but new confidence in rig handling.
Suzy tells Tom as he is going 60 miles an hour that the exit in 50 feet is “Our Exit”.
Tom then tactfully starts to look for a detour where a 50 foot vehicle and trailer can turn around gracefully.
After a night in limestone swamp in Vermont we determined that the rating system for RV parks may not always be accurate. This place was a mess. The office looked like a small child’s fort, the sites were in various states of being overgrown and there were puddles everywhere. Who picked this site??? At least it had internet and TV.
Suzy is manning (or womanning) the navigator’s station in the truck with Atlas, RV park info, internet highlights from recent searches, the guide to what is at every exit, Wheat Thins, the GPS, the IPOD, and Diet Coke. Oooops, we forgot to take out the tire cholks, and so nothing happens when Tom steps on the diesel. Back to take them out and check for anything else we forgot.
We are now on the road. Tom can be heard muttering at the small car that just swung in front of him causing him to hit the brakes trying to bring ten tons of truck and trailer to a stop in ten feet. The little guy doesn’t even know how close he came to dying, and its best for the seat of his pants he doesn’t.
Tom muttering as he turns a sharp corner getting on freeway and the back wheels of the fifth wheeler are up on the curb running over someone’s summer flowers. I hear that in the old days they pressed flowers also, but used a book vs. a fifth wheeler.
Suzy is calling RV Parks checking on availability, amenities, prices, and proximity of quilt shops or fabric stores. Tom keeps asking “How much?”
After three Diet Cokes Suzy is wondering if there are any rest stops in the next 60 seconds. Fortunately, Tom’s coffee bloated bladder is asking the same question. We stop at the rest stop and take turns helping Jet check his pee mail as we use the restroom. Of course Suzy buys another Diet Coke at the rest stop and Tom pulls out the thermos of coffee and we repeat this morning ritual ad infinitum.
Every now and then we pull into a gas station for diesel. Just finding a station that we can maneuver the rig through is a challenge so truck stops work real good. The other day in NY Tom pulled into a station and almost ran over the pump. He was so intent on missing the pump he forgot to look for an exit route. Oooops, no exits, what do we do now? Back up, carefully, and find a tight corner and sharp bend and finally get out without fuel but new confidence in rig handling.
Suzy tells Tom as he is going 60 miles an hour that the exit in 50 feet is “Our Exit”.
Tom then tactfully starts to look for a detour where a 50 foot vehicle and trailer can turn around gracefully.
After a night in limestone swamp in Vermont we determined that the rating system for RV parks may not always be accurate. This place was a mess. The office looked like a small child’s fort, the sites were in various states of being overgrown and there were puddles everywhere. Who picked this site??? At least it had internet and TV.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Homeland Security Detects Border Crossing
Crossing into Canada (You’d think you were in another country or the UP eh!)
Wow, August 3 and we made the border just 40 mile north of Burlington, VT. Just think, we could have driven north from Boise about 240 miles and been in Canada but instead we drove across the country and then went north for a different Canada. The maritime provinces. Guess Quebec isn’t really a maritime province but New Brunswick, Prince Edward Isle, Labrador, and Nova Scotia are. We have a Labrador so no need to ferry out to that northern island but will see the rest.
I had all the passports, dog vaccinations, and vehicle insurance forms at the ready in the truck. As I neared the front of the line with only one car in front of me I was feeling rather like the international traveler I used to be.
Then the border guard came out and said something that I thought was turn off my lights, which I did. Then he muttered again and I turned lights back on. Then he said to turn off the engine, as the rattler was making so much noise under the canopy that he couldn’t hear the people in front of me explaining that they were refugees from NY importing explosives into Quebec. So by the time I got to his window he was a bit pissed (pisseur, in French) and no amount of apologies could appease him. I figured I would be subject to a probing strip search at the least. But the planets were aligned and we escaped with a good day, eh! I promised to strip search my wife in return for his blessing of our travels.
Now to figure out how many miles per hour 90 kilometers per hour are and how many liters in a gallon. Maybe I don’t want to know. Good thing they speak French up here in Quebec Province as I am highly conversant in it. Bon Jour, Sa veh, Merci, Oui Oui is about all that is coming back right now. But it will come back fast. All that work in the former French colonies in Africa will come in handy now. Canadian money is now close to par to US dollars so there are no sales up here for Suzy. But the money is "pretty".
We are planning three days in Montreal, three days in Quebec City and then three days along the St Lawrence Seaway (Fleuve Saint-Laurent) before turning inland to New Brunswick and working our way to the Atlantic shores of PEI and NS.
Oh Canada, Oh Canada, tum tum tum tummm taa daaaa etc. and then something about the Queen………
Wow, August 3 and we made the border just 40 mile north of Burlington, VT. Just think, we could have driven north from Boise about 240 miles and been in Canada but instead we drove across the country and then went north for a different Canada. The maritime provinces. Guess Quebec isn’t really a maritime province but New Brunswick, Prince Edward Isle, Labrador, and Nova Scotia are. We have a Labrador so no need to ferry out to that northern island but will see the rest.
I had all the passports, dog vaccinations, and vehicle insurance forms at the ready in the truck. As I neared the front of the line with only one car in front of me I was feeling rather like the international traveler I used to be.
Then the border guard came out and said something that I thought was turn off my lights, which I did. Then he muttered again and I turned lights back on. Then he said to turn off the engine, as the rattler was making so much noise under the canopy that he couldn’t hear the people in front of me explaining that they were refugees from NY importing explosives into Quebec. So by the time I got to his window he was a bit pissed (pisseur, in French) and no amount of apologies could appease him. I figured I would be subject to a probing strip search at the least. But the planets were aligned and we escaped with a good day, eh! I promised to strip search my wife in return for his blessing of our travels.
Now to figure out how many miles per hour 90 kilometers per hour are and how many liters in a gallon. Maybe I don’t want to know. Good thing they speak French up here in Quebec Province as I am highly conversant in it. Bon Jour, Sa veh, Merci, Oui Oui is about all that is coming back right now. But it will come back fast. All that work in the former French colonies in Africa will come in handy now. Canadian money is now close to par to US dollars so there are no sales up here for Suzy. But the money is "pretty".
We are planning three days in Montreal, three days in Quebec City and then three days along the St Lawrence Seaway (Fleuve Saint-Laurent) before turning inland to New Brunswick and working our way to the Atlantic shores of PEI and NS.
Oh Canada, Oh Canada, tum tum tum tummm taa daaaa etc. and then something about the Queen………
Monday, August 3, 2009
Taking you through a day in the life of an RV couple
A Day in the Life!
“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” - Lao Tzu
So, in case you are wondering what Tom and Suzy are doing on any particular day I will provide a short description of our daily life in the 5th Wheel. If you are not interested in what Tom and Suzy are doing, what the hell are you reading the blogs for anyway?
Morning Rituals
No alarms, the sun or Jet usually awakens us around 6:30 AM. First one up has to take Jet out to send some Pee Mail and to check for new pee mail. Then he usually makes a large deposit in someone’s inbox which we have to quickly scoop into a plastic bag for future deposit in trash.
Tom then gets the coffee going as Suzy checks here email and Jet waits patiently for breakfast. After a Diet Coke, Lamb and Rice Kibble, and a Cup of Joe, Suzy and Tom begin their itinerary management discussions. Suzy usually starts with “Where are we this morning?” Tom looks at the receipt from the RV park from the night before and provides an answer. Neither can believe where it is they are so they take turns pinching each other. Jet high fives them both.
Then out comes the map, the Trailer Life Campsite Book, the “Thousand Places to See Before You Die” book, the toast and peanut butter and the bananas. Lively discussions follow and we determine the inside temperature of the RV. If it’s warm, Suzy takes first shower, if not Tom gets the job of warming it up with the first shower.
After the shower Tom decides on which shorts and T shirt to wear and how many consecutive days he has worn only a t shirt and shorts. Suzy then decides what to wear out of her 7.5 feet of the fifth wheel’s 8 foot closet.
Then its time to “breakdown the rig.” Suzy puts everything that could fall or slide off into cupboards and secures them with Velcro straps. The chairs are aligned so to be out of the way when the sliders come in. The TV is moved into the middle of the bed, the computer screen put in a chair and the laptop stowed. All bathroom items are secured in the sinks and coffee maker is secured in the kitchen sink. Jet is usually sensing a imminent move so he nervously waits for a chance to streak to the car and demand entrance to the back seat where he promptly goes to sleep.
Tom is outside disassembling the water hoses, the electrical service, and the sewer umbilical. Careful not to lick his fingers he stows it all in the basement of the rig. Then the satellite dish comes down and is carefully stowed away on the bed. Then the jacks get jacked, the truck gets backed, and the six ton rig gets dropped on the truck. All the while multi-tasking, Tom consumes a pot of coffee so that the first thing he has to do in the first five miles is stop and relieve himself.
Stay Tuned for Traveling Rituals
“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” - Lao Tzu
So, in case you are wondering what Tom and Suzy are doing on any particular day I will provide a short description of our daily life in the 5th Wheel. If you are not interested in what Tom and Suzy are doing, what the hell are you reading the blogs for anyway?
Morning Rituals
No alarms, the sun or Jet usually awakens us around 6:30 AM. First one up has to take Jet out to send some Pee Mail and to check for new pee mail. Then he usually makes a large deposit in someone’s inbox which we have to quickly scoop into a plastic bag for future deposit in trash.
Tom then gets the coffee going as Suzy checks here email and Jet waits patiently for breakfast. After a Diet Coke, Lamb and Rice Kibble, and a Cup of Joe, Suzy and Tom begin their itinerary management discussions. Suzy usually starts with “Where are we this morning?” Tom looks at the receipt from the RV park from the night before and provides an answer. Neither can believe where it is they are so they take turns pinching each other. Jet high fives them both.
Then out comes the map, the Trailer Life Campsite Book, the “Thousand Places to See Before You Die” book, the toast and peanut butter and the bananas. Lively discussions follow and we determine the inside temperature of the RV. If it’s warm, Suzy takes first shower, if not Tom gets the job of warming it up with the first shower.
After the shower Tom decides on which shorts and T shirt to wear and how many consecutive days he has worn only a t shirt and shorts. Suzy then decides what to wear out of her 7.5 feet of the fifth wheel’s 8 foot closet.
Then its time to “breakdown the rig.” Suzy puts everything that could fall or slide off into cupboards and secures them with Velcro straps. The chairs are aligned so to be out of the way when the sliders come in. The TV is moved into the middle of the bed, the computer screen put in a chair and the laptop stowed. All bathroom items are secured in the sinks and coffee maker is secured in the kitchen sink. Jet is usually sensing a imminent move so he nervously waits for a chance to streak to the car and demand entrance to the back seat where he promptly goes to sleep.
Tom is outside disassembling the water hoses, the electrical service, and the sewer umbilical. Careful not to lick his fingers he stows it all in the basement of the rig. Then the satellite dish comes down and is carefully stowed away on the bed. Then the jacks get jacked, the truck gets backed, and the six ton rig gets dropped on the truck. All the while multi-tasking, Tom consumes a pot of coffee so that the first thing he has to do in the first five miles is stop and relieve himself.
Stay Tuned for Traveling Rituals
Viagra Falls
Viagra Falls
Man, that is some explosion of water! They say it drops about 180 feet but when “it” is a gazillion gallons of water a nano second we are talking a major drubbing. It is the mother of all water boarding. The plunge of the plume, the fall of the falls, you get the idea.
Beautiful gardens and walking trails surround the falls on all sides. Even have gardens shaped like all the great lakes. Most people not walking but taking cars or elevators, or trolleys. Think there is some correlation between the size of the average tourist and the amount of walking they do. Suzy and I spent over two hours walking between American Falls, Horseshoe Falls, Three Sisters Islands, and Canada. Each provided a different vantage point for the spectacle of cascading water.
Niagra Falls the cities (both American and Canadian) were big disappointments. Every touristy gimmick to separate you from your money was installed on every square foot just outside the parks boundaries. Reminded me of all the check cashing stores outside of Army bases. Didn’t see any honeymooners. Where could they have been? Wait, I think I figured it out………..
Man, that is some explosion of water! They say it drops about 180 feet but when “it” is a gazillion gallons of water a nano second we are talking a major drubbing. It is the mother of all water boarding. The plunge of the plume, the fall of the falls, you get the idea.
Beautiful gardens and walking trails surround the falls on all sides. Even have gardens shaped like all the great lakes. Most people not walking but taking cars or elevators, or trolleys. Think there is some correlation between the size of the average tourist and the amount of walking they do. Suzy and I spent over two hours walking between American Falls, Horseshoe Falls, Three Sisters Islands, and Canada. Each provided a different vantage point for the spectacle of cascading water.
Niagra Falls the cities (both American and Canadian) were big disappointments. Every touristy gimmick to separate you from your money was installed on every square foot just outside the parks boundaries. Reminded me of all the check cashing stores outside of Army bases. Didn’t see any honeymooners. Where could they have been? Wait, I think I figured it out………..
BaZe Ball Hall of Fame
Bazeball Hall of Fame
Cooperstown, NY the Mecca of baseball, but instead of walking around the temple a number of times by the thousands of believers, you drive around the museum a thousand times looking for a parking place.
What a place. Overheard conversations, “We are never going to get dad out of here.”
“I don’t want any more baseball!” “I am hungry and tired.”
Old Doubleday, a career soldier, really came up with a great game. With all those rules and statistics, and uniforms, and cultures blended together…..who’d of thunk it? What a historical record from old leather gloves to modern equipment, from rock like balls to new signed balls in glass. And the old uniforms looked like the games were played in northern Canada with wool everything.
I have been a fan since 1954 and spent my childhood years, laying on the floor in front of a floor model radio, listening to the Braves (then in Milwaukee after moving from Boston) become the world champs. Spahn, Matthews, Aaron, Logan, Buhl, Adcock, Covington, Schoendingst, Crandall, Burdette and all the boys came back to me as I toured the Hall. Spahn, Aaron and Matthews were the only Braves from that era enshrined in the Hall but all the others helped put them there.
Spent a lot time in my granddads lap telling him about the latest game and asking when the Braves would make the World Series. When I showed him my glove he would say, “Tommy, that is a peach!” Or when the Braves won a doubleheader, he would respond, “The hell you say!”
Fun to see all the little kids in baseball garb talking the history with their dads, and the wives sitting on benches in the middle of the museum waiting. I’d say good payback for all the time spent in shopping malls.
Cooperstown is beautiful on the shores of a lake with big old summer homes lining the banks and Doubleday Field in the middle of downtown. Lots of baseball memorabilia shops and a good place to pick up a rare Milwaukee Braves hat! This year’s induction ceremony saw Jim Rice and Ricky Henderson inducted, just last weekend. The game goes on! The hell you say!
Cooperstown, NY the Mecca of baseball, but instead of walking around the temple a number of times by the thousands of believers, you drive around the museum a thousand times looking for a parking place.
What a place. Overheard conversations, “We are never going to get dad out of here.”
“I don’t want any more baseball!” “I am hungry and tired.”
Old Doubleday, a career soldier, really came up with a great game. With all those rules and statistics, and uniforms, and cultures blended together…..who’d of thunk it? What a historical record from old leather gloves to modern equipment, from rock like balls to new signed balls in glass. And the old uniforms looked like the games were played in northern Canada with wool everything.
I have been a fan since 1954 and spent my childhood years, laying on the floor in front of a floor model radio, listening to the Braves (then in Milwaukee after moving from Boston) become the world champs. Spahn, Matthews, Aaron, Logan, Buhl, Adcock, Covington, Schoendingst, Crandall, Burdette and all the boys came back to me as I toured the Hall. Spahn, Aaron and Matthews were the only Braves from that era enshrined in the Hall but all the others helped put them there.
Spent a lot time in my granddads lap telling him about the latest game and asking when the Braves would make the World Series. When I showed him my glove he would say, “Tommy, that is a peach!” Or when the Braves won a doubleheader, he would respond, “The hell you say!”
Fun to see all the little kids in baseball garb talking the history with their dads, and the wives sitting on benches in the middle of the museum waiting. I’d say good payback for all the time spent in shopping malls.
Cooperstown is beautiful on the shores of a lake with big old summer homes lining the banks and Doubleday Field in the middle of downtown. Lots of baseball memorabilia shops and a good place to pick up a rare Milwaukee Braves hat! This year’s induction ceremony saw Jim Rice and Ricky Henderson inducted, just last weekend. The game goes on! The hell you say!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
