Bday Trip 2018 – Southern Nova Scotia

After exploring Hopewell Rocks, I drove about five hours to Mahone Bay in Nova Scotia, about an hour-ish south of Halifax. Mahone Bay is a cute little fishing village that is starting to become a tourist destination due to its close proximity to Lunenburg, which is a full-fledged tourist town due to its UNESCO World Heritage Site status. Prices for lodging in Mahone Bay are lower than those in Lunenburg though, which tipped the balance in its favor as my selection.

The main street of the little town was jammed with tourists out and about on a Friday evening, enjoying the restaurants and shops and checking out the marina. I crawled along in my Mustang, trying not to run anyone over while looking for the sign for the B&B. Just when I figured that I must have passed it and turned down a side street to turn around, I saw that I actually was about to turn around in their parking spots! It was like I knew where I was going. I was slightly concerned to see a realtor sign advertising that the place was for sale. It seems like every B&B I ever stay at is actively for sale when I get there…

I was the first guest to arrive but that did not mean I got the best room… hmmmm. I dumped my stuff down and immediately changed so I could wander down the main street to find a decent dinner. I hadn’t eaten a real meal since my unexpected overnight in Toronto and at that point, the carrots were getting a little slimy.

I wandered for about an hour before settling on a seafood restaurant about a half a mile from my lodgings. Despite the fact that it was actually pretty hot even for early evening time, I opted for a patio seat so I could see the water and the boats gently bobbing with the waves. I had just placed my order and was settling back in my seat when the music on the restaurant’s speakers changed dramatically from the Anne Murray soft and easy listening to the opening chords of The Rolling Stones’ Paint It Black. I immediately sat straight up and almost burst into tears. One of my dad’s favorite groups is The Rolling Stones and I very nearly used the lyrics for Paint It Black for his memorial card (until I realized how sad and angry those lyrics are and while highly accurate for my feelings, probably isn’t something I should use for a memorial that other people would remember him by). After the song ended, the light and easy listening music made a return and I was going to remark to the server about the abrupt change in the music; but then I thought about it and felt that maybe that song was meant for me, to keep me on my toes and to let me know that my dad was still on this journey with me.

Dinner was delicious – freshly caught haddock and a pile of fresh-cut french fries. It may not have been the healthiest thing but it hit the spot. I was even too full to contemplate a cone of ice cream afterwards. I made my way back to my lodging and took a shower before nestling into bed with my Kindle. I fell asleep only to wake up multiple times during the night to realize that I was crying from dreams of reliving my dad’s last days. You see, it was a month to the day that he passed and obviously I was highly aware of the significance of the date (and I’m sure the Rolling Stones’ song only served to heighten my awareness of those painful feelings).

The next morning, I was going to try to sneak out without having to eat breakfast. I’m not usually a breakfast person as it is, and I especially do not like eggs – and it seems that every B&B owner wants to make me scrambled eggs in the morning. Unfortunately, the dining room is in the direct path to the parking area and it was already full with the other guests. I smiled weakly and said that I was just going to load the car before coming back in. And then as I was walking out the door, telling myself not to trip on the awkward first step with the ridge directly in the middle of the step, I twisted my ankle on said ridge. I tumbled on the stairs while still holding my suitcase. I must have done so pretty quietly because the B&B owner didn’t rush to the door to see what happened. I picked myself up to discover that I scraped my shin pretty good and while it wasn’t actively gushing blood, it for sure would be weeping blood most of the day… Great, I slept like crap and now this?

I hobbled to the car, stowing my suitcase and backpack in the trunk and made my painful way back inside. The proprietor seemed miffed when I said that I would just take some toast and berries; but at that point, I wasn’t about to risk stomach issues during my next long stretch of driving. Nova Scotia doesn’t have gas stations every 5 minutes off of the highways and if my stomach acted up, the only available bathroom is the woods adjacent to the road. As I ate in silence, the talk turned to the recent shooting in Toronto. That brought the proprietor out of the kitchen to deliver an harangue about “the blacks”, “the Muslims” and “other minorities”. I was floored. I completely wasn’t expecting that and although I protested that no one ethnicity or religion was the representation of society’s ills, he basically over-talked me until I realized that there was absolutely no way to talk rationally with him. The other guests looked around nervously and when the owner switched topics to how poor the Canadian medical system was, I excused myself and quickly made my exit.

It was difficult to shake off the slimy feeling the breakfast conversation engendered. I drove to Lunenburg to check out the waterfront and get a glimpse of the UNESCO Heritage Site streets, but only spent a half hour wandering before I decided to get back in the car. While the town is charming, there was a funky smell in the air. It could have just been my mood but later googling returned news stories complaining about a treatment plant causing a stink – literally…

From Lunenburg, I pointed the nose of Thor south on Highway 103. The road was really only one lane in either direction but I got the opportunity to put the GT through its paces and pass a half-dozen slower moving cars. I had thought I would make a few stops along the way to Yarmouth, but it turned out the only stop I made was to pull off the road to put my top back up. It had started raining again and with the mood I was in, I was in no frame of mind to try to ride out a brief shower exposed. It ended up raining most of the way to Yarmouth so my instinct to put the top up was spot on. The road itself was incredibly foggy at some points and I half expected moose to walk out of the trees that lined the shoulder of the road.

About two and a half hours after I left Lunenburg, I rolled through Yarmouth, a port town where the ferries from Maine deliver U.S. drivers to Nova Scotia. It was also the first big town of any consequence I had seen outside of Halifax. At that point, I made a spur of the moment decision to go see if the lighthouse at Cape Forchu was anything to post on Instagram. I entered the lighthouse into the GPS and twisted and turned my way along waterfront lanes to an isolated rock where the road ended. The fog was still burning off as I walked the nature path adjacent to the lighthouse. The beach at the very end of the park was strewn with huge basalt rock formations and a ton of large cobbles of all different types of rock. I wandered aimlessly, picking up rocks that caught my attention and placing them in my pockets until my shorts threatened to fall off my hips due to the accumulated weight of so many stones. And then in honor of the function of the lighthouse, I decided to scatter some more of my dad’s ashes asking him to always help guide me…

Cape Forchu Lighthouse, Nova Scotia, July 2018

The nature walk helped my mood considerably. I decided to have a small picnic before getting back in the car and sufficiently fortified with turkey, carrots, and cookies, I got back on the road for the final push to Smiths Cove, where I would be spending the night. It was much closer than I anticipated. For some reason, I assumed that it was going to be another 2.5 hour drive, but it turned out to only be an hour from Yarmouth. I made my way to Route 101 North and then sped my way northwest.

I got to the motel on the shores of the Bay of Fundy right around 3pm and was able to check in immediately with the extraordinarily cheerful owner. I dumped my stuff in my little unit only to realize that while it had a tiny kitchenette, it didn’t have AC. Honestly, when I booked it, I am sure it never was a consideration for me because I was expecting it to be chilly, not 30C/86F! I set about opening all of the windows and turning the ceiling fan on high, hoping to cool down the room before bed time. I grabbed my Kindle to sit on the back deck overlooking the Bay to read…

Parents of young girls, I have to ask a question. Do all little girls scream incessantly? Because this family had three that would not.stop.screaming… Not like, help I’m being attacked by a child molester! Not, help I’m being stung multiple times by bees! Not even, help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. No… they were screaming that wordless screech like they were auditioning for the role of “soon to be dead person” in a horror movie. I just about lost my shit after a few minutes of listening to that. Instead, I locked up my room and went down to the rocky beach. The beach appears to be wide in normal circumstances but with the receding low tide of the Bay of Fundy, the beach was massive and growing bigger by the minute.

I spent at least a few hours out there, picking up rocks and thoroughly examining them before deciding whether to add to the growing collection in my pockets or returning it to the beach. It was so much more peaceful out there than listening to prepubescent girls screaming at closely spaced yet random intervals and I debated on whether I could drag my bed out to the beach or if high tide would sweep me away. Finally, dusk was falling and the fog was moving in. I climbed the stairs back to the motel building, unhappy to hear that the girls were still alive and at full lung capacity. Finally, after probably listening to me on my deck saying “Shut the f-ck up” under my breath like a broken record, one of the adults (who sounded like he was under the influence of one too many beers) told them to quiet down. I then overheard how a raccoon had gotten into one of the family’s units and was apparently resisting all attempts to capture it. I snickered but then worried that it might enter another room if the girls kept screaming at it. Mercifully, darkness fell and the families herded their offspring to bed. Finally, it was quiet enough for me to attempt to sleep in my stifling hot room.

In the middle of the night, I felt a cool breeze on my leg and worried for a moment that it was the cold nose of the raccoon saying hello. But no, it actually was a chill wind that brought blessedly cool air. And then, my room lit up from lightning. Ohhhh, a storm was coming! I love thunderstorms and was excitedly watching the lightning increase in frequency as the storm moved closer. The first rumble of thunder brought concerns that the scream machine would kick into action; but only a few whimpers were heard as the thunder grew in intensity and then suddenly, a deluge of rain washed over us…

I promise, I’m nearing the end of my birthday trip ramblings…