Heading to 'The Rock'

I rode back to Antigonish yesterday and, after looking at the weather report which forecasted about an inch of rain for tomorrow, decided to completely skip riding Cape Breton (the northern part of Nova Scotia) and take the bus to North Sydney where I'll catch the ferry to Port aux Basques in Newfoundland.

Before all my new Canadian readers freak out over my skipping this pretty section of Nova Scotia, it means that I've pretty much decided to come back to the Maritimes next summer. There is much more of PEI that I'd like to explore and I have a feeling that I'll want to spend more time in Newfoundland, also. So, Cape Breton and all its prettiness will be thouroughly explored next year.

As I was heading up to the bus terminal, I stopped to talk to a letter carrier about my adventures. She runs a B and B near Cape George and invited me to come stay there next summer.

The bus to North Sydney didn't leave until 7 in the evening so I decided to wander around Antigonish a bit. This is Celtic country so the street signs are in English and Scots Gaelic.


Gaelic is one of those languages where one just stares blankly at the words without a clue as to how to pronounce them. For example: caleigh is pronounced kaylee. Here is some more.


It's almost as unpronounceable as this First Nation's language in British Columbia.


It's a college town, home to St. Francis Xavier University, one of the best schools in Canada. It's a beautiful campus.





Wandering downtown, I stopped by the library where an artist was working on a lovely stone mural. I chatted with her and some other people and all of a sudden I hear someone say he is Hungarian. So, I met Árpád, an anesthesiologist and his wife and little girl. They invited me over for lunch and Árpád made paprikás csirke with nokedli, (chicken paprika stew with egg dumplings) the ultimate Hungarian comfort food. It was absolutely fantastic. Árpád's wife is from Cyprus, so there was a trilingual conversation going on in Hungarian, English, and Greek. It was great to meet you all! Ismét köszönöm a vendéglátást!

I am currently on a bus heading to North Sydney. I'll catch the ferry tonight and will be in Newfoundland in the morning.
-- Post From My iPhone

Location:Newfoundland

Playing Dress Up

I got back to Nova Scotia and camped at a nice provincial park in Caribou where they made room for me even though they were completely full. Traveling by bike, I almost never get turned away from a campground even when it's full.

The next day I rode the ten or so miles to Pictou, home of the replica tallship, Hector.





The original Hector was the first ship to bring immigrants from Scotland in the mid 1700s.


Imagine climbing to the top of the main mast in a heavy swell!


After the Battle of Culloden in 1746 when the Scottish Highland clans were defeated by the English, life became very hard in the Highlands. In desperation, about 200 highlanders, answered this advertisement for emigration. (In old text like this, the lower case letter s looks like an f).


They sailed from Ullapool at the head of beautiful Loch Broom in the Scottish Highlands.

This is what belowdecks looks like where all those people were crowded in for twelve weeks. The bunks have four levels.


I can't begin to imagine what that place was like. Imagine the smell of 200 unwashed bodies and the toilet buckets on the heaving North Atlantic. Even the modern replica, which is kept in port, felt cool and damp on a warm sunny day.

After arriving in Nova Scotia, things got really bad. The promised land of milk and honey turned out to be a forested wilderness without any land cleared for farming. They were completely unprepared. One clansman went out to shoot a bear after hearing about how formidable and dangerous they were. He came back saying that it was actually pretty easy to kill but he was surprised at the long pokey things in its fur. He had shot a porcupine and thought it a bear. The Scots did survive and thrive and many of their descendants are still here in Pictou.

Near the ship Hector was a group of Red-coated Highlanders drilling with muskets.


They had a canon, too. Her name is Charlotte.





I went over to talk to them and was asked if I wanted to join them in their 18th century encampment. I, of course, jumped at the chance. I was provided with period appropriate clothes and spent the rest of the day and the next morning with the 84th Highland Regiment. The bike cleats were the best I could do for shoes but the rest was pretty authentic.


I went out for beer with some of the guys.


The captain was quite the story teller and regaled us with many stories from his time in the Canadian military and other more shady adventures. Note the broadsword slung on his back.


I got to sleep in an old style tent.


They fed me a great dinner and breakfast.


This little girl had a great time despite looking a little grouchy in this picture.


In the evening, I hung out with these great people from Ontario (after they made fun of my bike shoes). Thanks for the beers and the company, guys!


I got a lesson in the workings of the flint lock musket. This is the entire mechanism that is driven with only two springs.


To load and fire, you bite of the top of a a paper cartridge that has a pre-measured amount of black powder. You put a small amount in the pan in the firing mechanism and snap the cover shut on it. The rest of the powder goes down the barrel, followed by a round, lead musket ball that is in the base of the cartridge (these guys obviously skip that) and the paper wadding of the cartridge. The whole thing is packed into the barrel with the ramrod. To fire you pull the cock back two stops and pull the trigger. When you do, the flint hits a piece of steel making a spark igniting the powder in the pan. There is a small hole that goes from the pan through the barrel through which the flame travels thus lighting the powder in the barrel, discharging the rifle with a satisfying bang. Re-loading takes three to four minutes.

Many English expressions originate from this time. The metal that holds the flint looks like the head of a cock (male chicken) so we have cocking a gun. When the flint lock mechanism becomes worn, the musket can go off half-cocked. If the main charge doesn't ignite but the ignition charge does, you get a flash in the pan.

I had a fantastic time, members of the 84th Regiment! Thanks so much for the hospitality. I hope I can join you again, perhaps next summer, in the 18th century.

Location:18th century Pictou

Back on PEI

I'm back on PEI and will soon be heading back to Nova Scotia for a quick ride up to North Sydney to get the ferry to Newfoundland. I've had several nice days riding on PEI. This place is so pretty.

This is the view from the top of the Souris lighthouse.


The Îsles de la Madeleine ferry passed when I was on the lighthouse.


This is the old Fresnel lens from the now automated light. It used to contain a kerosene lamp so one of the many tasks for the lighthouse keeper was cleaning the soot off the lens and the windows.


Before it was electrified, the rotation of the light was driven by a clockwork mechanism with a weight that slowly lowered from the top to the bottom of the tower. It had to be wound every four hours.


This is a boson chair that was used to lower someone down the side of the lighthouse to paint the sides. The paint bucket hook is on the right.


I visited Prince Edward National Park. There are tree sections to it along the north shore. I thought the Greenwich shore was by far the prettiest.








I stopped to see Dalvay 'cottage' the summer residence of one of the original owners of Standard Oil that was built at the end of the nineteenth century.





This is where Will and Kate stayed when they came to PEI.


I treated myself to lunch in the restaurant: seafood chowder with shrimp, scallops, and lobster. Yum!


Today was a thoroughly soggy day and a 'Rain Warning' was issued for several centimeters of rain. I lucked out though, since last night when I stopped in a convenience store to pick up milk, I met Doreen, a local avid bicycle tourist. She invited me to come stay with her which I gladly accepted. We spent hours discussing gear, routes, etc. I got a ride into Charlottetown to buy groceries and more camera memory. We had a nice dinner and it was just great to hang out in a warm, dry house while the rain came down. Thanks for the hospitality, Doreen!

I went up to Cavendish, the home of Green Gables, where the book, 'Anne of Green Gables' is set.


The house is decorated like it is described in the book. Here is Anne's room.


This is the Haunted Wood.


Lover's Lane.


I had a bottle of Raspberry Cordial.


A nearby farm, owned by some people with a Chinese last name showed their island allegiance thus.


If you don't understand the above photos then go read Lucy Montgomery's 'Anne of Green Gables'.

I'm now making my way back to the ferry to head back to Nova Scotia. I took the Confederation Trail, the island rails to trails, into the biggest city on the island, Charlottetown.


I hung out for a few hours.


There was a street musician playing Ragtime music.


I treated myself to a Dutch pastry called poffertjes.


They are like tiny, puffy crepes and are very tasty.


Heading out of Charlottetown, I passed a bunch more fields and some veggie stands. This one grabbed my attention.


Folks on PEI seem so nice. I'm a bit shocked that they sell Irish shoemakers along with potatoes and lettuce. It seems so out of character.

This is a freshly planted potato field. Note the pretty red soil.


More fields.





I visited the Wood Islands lighthouse.


There was some major rum running on the island since they had prohibition until the 1940s.


These serious gentlemen with the formidable mustaches were the sons of one of the lighthouse keepers.


This is how mail was delivered to the island in winter across the ice.


I bid goodbye to PE I today and took the ferry back to Nova Scotia.


I'm excited to see Newfoundland but was really sad to leave PEI and will definitely be back.
-- Post From My iPhone

Location:Prince Edward Island