Fortress Louisbourg, N.S.

Today we slept in.  Can you imagine, not only was the campsite a glorified, pebble parking lot, but they had a wedding in a tent outside last night in the drizzle and fog.  The thumping of the drum went till way after11 PM but we finally slept.

We awoke to more drizzle and fog, a reminder of what life must have been like for the early French who settled here and then built the largest fortress on the east coast.

The story of Louisbourg begins in Newfoundland and is based on Europe’s fiendish passion for salted cod in the 17^th century.  Every spring, huge fishing fleets from Europe would sail to the Grand Banks off Newfoundland to fish from the plentiful waters, since European waters had been overfished.  Sometimes the fish were taken to land, salted and dried and other times using the “green method” the fish would be put in salted stacks right on the ship.  Because the dried, white product lasted so long, it was highly valued in Catholic Spain, Portugal and Southern France.  The Church, of course, in those days, demanded lots of days of sacrifice when the good Catholic could only eat fish and veggies.

By the 18^th century, France and England had started a series of wars that would have profound effects on their colonial empires.  With the treaty of Utrecht in 1713, France gave up all her property in southern Newfoundland and Acadia and retained only the islands of Ile St. Jean (PEI) and Ile Royale (Cape Breton).

Soon the plentiful fish off of Ile Royale were attracting French from Newfoundland and France as the cod trade proceeded to eclipse the profitability of the fur trade from Central Canada.  Louisbourg was the trading capital of the area because of its location on the Atlantic, and in 1720 it became the capital of Ile Royale and Ile St Jean.  The fort was established to protect the cod trade and also kept watch over the settlers heading down the St Lawrence River and prevented enemy fleets from using the river.  New Englanders, alarmed by the possibility of French aggression so close to home and anxious to have the fishing all to themselves, sent colonists from NH, Conn, RI, NY,PA and NJ to join the Royal Navy in attacking Louisbourg in 1745.  This was called the “Campaign of Amatuers” because the troops were primarily local militia.  The French didn’t have a chance because they had placed their cannons all facing the ocean and the back of the fort was protected by ramparts of plaster that weren’t very high or strong.  The British navy let the colonists off the ships at a nearby bay and land fighters that they were, they were able to defeat the garrison.  They sent the French back to France, only to lose 1200 people of their own that first winter because of disease and harsh weather.  By 1748 Louisbourg was back in French hands as a result of another French victory over Britain and the garrison and town once again grew into a thriving port with 3500 soldiers in 1758.  War with Britain began again and in 1758 the British sailed from their newest port of Halifax and again attacked and defeated the French at Louisbourg, essentially using the same tactics used many years before.  The French were finally sent packing from Louisbourg for the last time.  In order to ensure they did not return, the British blew up all of the town and fort and it remained in ruins until the 1960s, when the Canadians decide to resurrect the fort for the sake of history. 

Click the arrow below to watch pictures

Dick says this is boring

Anyway, today we went to see the reconstructed Fort Louisbourg, which the Canadian Gov’t put millions of dollars into and kicked people off the sight where they had been living in the 1960s.  It really is a most interesting place and they have recreated some 65 areas from a dovecote to the Financial Administrator’s house (beautiful as you can imagine).  Several people are costumed and play roles as people living there and they are very good at staying in character.  The buildings are really quite nice and built with the same materials and in the same manner.  It is not as commercial as Williamsburg and also not as cute.  But then this was mainly a military garrison and sat on the North Atlantic.  Today the temp at mid-day was 65 and it drizzled and was foggy all day and this is the end of July.  I know, you all are suffering in the heat.  Dick and I are wondering if we should be looking at land up here to buy as a refuge from the coming heat induced famine that may engulf us all. (a local house with 2 acres was advertised for $ Canadian 93,000.00 )

We had lunch at a lovely candle lit restaurant with a traditional menu of trout (for Dick a small whole trout) and pork roast for me.  Everything was very authentic and good.  Great fun!  I have become suddenly nauseated at the thought of any more melted butter, French fries and lobster or crab.  I hate admitting this but 2 weeks seems to be enough.  We have been gone 2 weeks and only 3 dinners have not been seafood.  Most of it has been great but tonight I needed a steak.  It came…the color and hardness of shoe leather, so I acted very American and told the waitress.  Ended up with great chicken, and might have to wait until DC for a good steak.

We actually got some laundry done late in the afternoon (when I started this) and have now had dinner.  I have to say that my main impression of this area after 2 weeks is that people are living much more simply and are OK with it and are much more relaxed than we are in the US.  This, of course, is not the same in the big cities of Montreal, Vancouver, etc but here things are much more low key.  Unemployment is high but there doesn’t seem to be great gobs of poverty and it reminds us of Alaska where people did more than one thing to make ends meet.  This tourist season has been terrible for them because the weather has been so cold and rainy.  But everyone seems pleasant.   

Missing you all but enjoying the cool,  Lizzy or Betsy

Two little orange eyes....

Two small, orange, glowing dots…

 shimmering in the dark by the side of the highway.  Too wide apart to be a fox, or even one of the local black bears.  Much to high off the ground to be a deer.  Apply the brakes, hard.  Large dark brown form, very tall, clearly now a moose – agitated, irritated movements of its head – its dinner foraging was being disturbed.  Lights now more fully on it … the thing is enormous, well over 7 feet tall and with antlers that seem to spread out to 5-6 feet or maybe more.  How can it possibly get between the trees? 

We are coming back from Betsy’s 7th lobster dinner at Pleasant Cove on the northern edge of the Cape Breton National Park.  It is about 9:30 and pitch dark.  We have spent the day traveling around the northern half of the park from one (guidebook language) jaw dropping view of cliffs and the Atlantic to another.  Dark blue waters, giant granite cliffs, sparkling white sand beaches and rolling , long white waves were constant companions.  On the edges of the park border, private lands still hosted small art shops, quirky restaurants, and little farmsteads … just making life possible for the 3 warm summer months.  Yellow ribbons on the general store fence posts marked the snows depth this past winter – about 5 feet.  Foxgloves, Roses and Dalhias were growing in every garden, along with lettuce, and cool weather veggies.

We had crossed from Cheticamp to the north and then the east of the Park earlier in the day.  It involved 3 elevation changes from sea level to about 2000 feet and back down.  The center of the park is a large high plateau of massive granite, about 500 millions years old formed when Europe and North America were pushing up against each other – one of the oldest exposed stable rocks on earth they say (along with New Found Land).  The nearly flat top is one massive bog of slowly formed soil, frequent fog, tiny fir trees that may be several hundred years old and amazing flora.  We went on one short “bog walk” where a boardwalk kept us off the moss and out of the water. Plaques helped us understand what we were seeing.  We found 5 different species of orchids (blooming), water lilies, many small flowers, wild rosemary, and three types of insect eating carnivorous plants – some whose slippery sides cause the bugs to slide down to the mouth; some who curl sticky tendrils around unsuspecting insects who stop to eat at faux flowers.  It was amazing what variety survived at these latitudes, at these heights and with the long cold winters.

We were very close to this same bog when the little orange eyes appeared that night.  Just a half-mile further down the road two distinct shapes emerged in the headlights – a cow moose and her calf … both grazing on the tender road-side grass; and just a mile further on another cow moose.  We felt lucky to have had a late dinner and be heading back just at this prime grazing time.  We drove extra slowly and carefully the rest of the 50 miles or so back to camp as moose are really hard to see with their chocolate brown fur that does not reflect the lights well.

The sky was clear and we were far away from lights of towns so when we looked up just before entering the trailer we could see the Milky Way much more clearly and brightly than we had in years. And, then we had another very good sleep in the cool, clean air, knowing that our Washington DC friends and relatives were suffering through yet another sticky, hot, code-orange night of poor air quality.

What to do with Julien?

Adopt him, ransom him, abandon him?

Breakfast in the clear morning sun was spent watching the fancy RV rigs leave the camp and then a handsome, slightly tattooed young man came up and asked if we had seen a certain rig.  He had been in the lavatory building and his parents had left without him! Julien was 26, upset, and flabbergasted that his Mum and Dad had not noticed that he was not in the back of their RV.  Blandishments of coffee and food did not help – he had run the mile or so to the park gates but they had already left there.  An offer of a cell phone to call was accepted but it went straight to voicemail… who has their cell phone on while traveling in a national park? 

We packed and hooked up for departure while Julien stewed and then relaxed a bit.  My advice was that he use this as an opportunity to secure something he wanted when they were reunited – clothing, gifts, vacations, etc.  But he was having none of it…  Another cell phone call, this time Mom answered and from 20 feet away we could hear her surprised exclamations and lots of Canadian French exchanges with Julien.  30 minutes later, just as I finished the dishes, he was reunited with them….Hopefully not to be abandoned again on this vacation.

We headed south again, stopping at a Center for Masques – a local tradition used during Lent when the community visits each other “in mask” and guessing of identities is followed by gingerbread and butterscotch sauce.  Maggie and I walked the little port of Grand Etang (pics of Maggie) and could see that while meager, life now was considerably better than it had been a century ago.  This part of the island, including Cheticamp where we were yesterday, only got it first road built in 1947 – until then it was a miserable 14 hour horseback ride to Inverness, or a wet, steamship ride (very occasional) down off the island.  The upper communities of Cape Breton were really isolated, though long-settled, and the local museum was full of things that were very familiar to me from visiting Grandad’s house in Moscow, Idaho – the difference was that Grandad’s tools, the rugs, furniture, stoves, etc. reflected life at the beginning of the 20^th century – here it was mid-20^th century.

The middle of the day was spent at the Alexander Graham Bell center – now a part of Canada’s national park system, in Baddeck. 

Betsy wants to add her voice to the blog so I am stopping now and will try to post this … from Fortress Louisbourg on CapeBreton’s far east coast.

July 26

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stands like harper hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.

So begins “Evangeline, An Acadian Tale”, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, writing about the separated French Acadian young lovers, torn apart on their wedding day by British troops seizing French Acadia to turn it into New Scotland. The British scattered the Acadians (the original settlers from 1604 for much of the Maritime provinces and Maine), and displaced them by forcibly removing and splitting families, sending them to the winds – Europe, New England, and to the west.. Evangeline, separated from her husband-to-be, wandered New England for the rest of her life, finding her fiancée on this death bed in her old age.

The French and the British have been settling, fighting, and moving each other on these shores for most of the 17th and 18th centuries and gradually the “displaced” drift back – today large parts of the English speaking provinces still proudly display their Acadian heritage and flag, and speak a dialect of French. Even on PEI we found more French radio stations than English, and the Cape Bretons islanders are definitely of Acadian descent – albeit with interesting mixes. From the moment we crossed the man-made causeway onto what used to be Cape Breton Island (see pics), it looked like little Scotland – with every name, road and store being “Mac” something… The causeway, by the way, is 10 million tons of the mountain nearby shifted down into the sea to form today’s roadway – the pictures show both clearly.

So we motored along, drinking in (figuratively) the Celtic flavors of Inverness, Ingonish, and other towns, roads and shoppes of New Scotland, until suddenly we crossed into the Acadian territory – then the roads were marked Chemin McDougal, Rue McDonald, and there were other inescapable signs of Acadian-Scots.

But how did we get here….. leaving Cavendish National Park on PEI we stopped at the little village of St Peter’s by the sea, where in 1607 French settlers put up their first cabins (pics) and begin hauling in the cod. Some 150 years later, the new emplaced Scottish Catholic pastor found the people, including his 200 Scottish immigrants living in dire poverty. He banded them together, started building a white wooden church (pics) that is still active and beautiful, and then built the rugged, sandstone block Farmer’s Bank (picture)– the first Credit Union in North America, and “mutuality” helped life to improve.

We went further east, to a lovely provincial campground at RedPoint, had a great barbecued meal, quiet evening and the next morning stopped at the nearby Singing Sands – listened to our feel make the sand sing (squeak is more like it!), then called in at the East Point lighthouse (1783?) – (picture). And then headed back south to catch the Wood Island Ferry to New Scotland Province (pics at Ferry and on-board).


The trip back across the Confederation Bridge would have been a $70 toll (you pay only getting off the island), and it would have added 200 miles to the journey, so a $92 ferry-ride seemed like a good buy and we came out ahead taking gas into account (about $5.25/gallon here), and saved about 4 hours in the process. We debarked in Pictou, where the “Hector” (a ship, now present as a replica) had brought 250 Scottish indentured laborers in about 1730 for the Philadelphia Company to form the settlement required by the company’s land grant from the King. They could not find Philly residents willing to relocate (?!), so they sent some oily-tongued recruiters off to cold and poor Scotland with tales of wonder – just like today’s real estate men I guess!

Back to NS, proper, we over-nighted near St George’s point, nice campground right by the sea, and then headed off after a good sleep-in yesterday morning.

After crossing the causeway, and heading into Scot and then Acadian territory, we came to Glenmore, the only single malt whiskey distillery in Canada, started in 1997 and selling their first product in 2007 (10 year aged whiskey). We did not do the tour or sample the product ($80/bottle for the 10 year; $150 for the 15 year-old “reserve” – OK, 14 year old!). But, they did have a great restaurant and live Celtic fiddle/piano music – so I had Cod Cakes and a great Schooner Ale (pic) from Halifax and Liz a spinach salad with extras.

We wandered up the coast, mailing a book about a moose to Julia (Scott/Leona’s daughter), and then entered Cape Breton Nat’l park, putting down the anchor at Cheticamp campgrounds, just across the river from Cheticamp village. The pretty little village (maybe 3000 people, had a nice church (1897?), 4 hair salons, one car wash/laundrette, a couple museums, 3 service stations, about 8 restaurants, and a french bakery). The camp is gorgeous grass and birch trees at the base of the 1000 foot beginnings of the highlands.

We chose the Acadian cooperative restaurant for dinner – (pictures) – where, I am not kidding, the best dish was the blood pudding (pork roast, shredded, cooked in blood and seasoned with Allspice and cloves). Scott Frank, look closely at the picture of the whipped butter container! There may be a territorial move possible for you!

Tonight will be more traditional lobster fare (#6 I think, for Liz – it was lobsta-roll #4 for lunch). After dinner we repaired to the Riverview (literally) Pub where we spent a couple of hours listening to more Celtic music. The building floor was shaking with all of the people (lots of locals) tapping their feet. With the help of the Internet and Skype we called Kim and Rich (in Mexico) and Kim got to hear a bit. The connection with Rich was not so good so we were reduced to texts, but he was enjoying beautiful weather and relaxing with his new Wife and step daughter.

This seems like a good time to explain that just before we left he called from Vancouver and said that he and Monika had decided to marry since there was no longer any immigration-related reasons standing in the way (his living in Canada again) and they would take their planned vacation in Baja, Mexico as honeymoon. They organized a dress, flowers, ceremony, etc. and he sent on a few pictures – Kim, you have these…. Can you add them to the blog??).

Monika and he will plan a later ceremony for families (hers in Poland; us in the US – where? We have no idea?). Domenika is Monika’s 12 year old daughter and Rich can enjoy learning how teens think! We only have been able to speak with them by phone last Christmas but they seem very nice and Rich has been happy and relaxed for the first time in years. Domenika, you have my permission as a step-grandfather to occasionally show Rich what teenage girls are like growing up… he did the teen boy thing for us!!! (But be good of course!)

Tomorrow will be a grand circuit of the Cabot Trail clear around the Cape Breton park – we are ready for moose, whales and seals – it will be an 8 hour trip so tomorrow’s edition will likely be delayed. As the road is very steep, VERY curvey, and there are 74 scenic view points, we are leaving the trailer here as a base camp and will return here – using much less gas, letting the Volvo ride more comfortably, and easing my driving tension considerably when Liz says, on a sharp curve, “Stop! Here! – I want to photograph that!.

Onward!

Prince Edward Island Days

The crows are calling incessantly! Someone has finished their breakfast, and the crows think it the remains are for them. This is the morning routine at the Cavendish branch of Canada's national Park on Prince Edward Island.

Our first day here was spent just resting, sleeping, reading, napping and all of the things in between. Maggie and I did a long walk on the beach, our only fully sunny day, and covered a couple of miles, finally reaching the bloated carcass of a very large dead seal. It was pretty smelly downwind and the amusing thing was to see how Maggie wanted to immediately roll the smell off of herself on the sandy beach. A picture of the seal will be included if it came out.

Movie of the photos for this entry:
http://youtu.be/Y5eWNui3O7A

That evening I drove a couple of miles down the road to the port of New London and bought fresh Atlantic salmon from the fisherman there, and then stopped at a small farmhouse selling fresh organic vegetables and bought both arugula and mixed greens and some truly “new” potatoes which had just been dug that morning and required quite a bit of scrubbing to get the sandy soil off. Betsy lounged, Maggie napped and I enjoyed cooking a delicious salmon steak on the barbecue–even my toughest critics admitted it was absolutely delicious.
While cooking that I also popped a freshly made loaf of apple, raisin, bran bread into the over for baking – for breakfast. It worked! Over dinner we watched a DVD of old Bob Newhart TV films about the Inn in Vermont – he is still funny.



We set off the next morning (Thursday) to do some sightseeing and as it was Betsy's choice–we stopped at each art gallery along the way, at the various small villages, and the shops. She gave the local artisans only a C grade saying she was a bit disappointed in both quality and execution. The shops were more interesting with lots of unusual things, like Prince Edward Island sweaters, the Prince Edward Island Preserves factory which sold lemon and ginger marmalade with amaretto, and so on.

We wandered West and South as far as Summerside the second largest town on the island, and in the province, about the size of Vienna–we checked out the waterfront, the restaurants and since it was then starting to rain headed for Charlottetown, the capital. It is a big city, about twice the size of Vienna at 40,000 people. It has some pleasant tree-lined streets, the University of New Brunswick, some large strip malls, and a pleasant old town with some old brick buildings. There was a nice waterfront with some commercial tourist development, a small fishing port and a place for larger vessel. Near the waterfront there was a kind of historic district and as it was threatening to rain we stopped to have dinner in one of the recommended pub restaurants. Liz and I both ordered lobster linguine which was delicious.

It was raining cats and Maggies when we came out so it was a very wet drive back over the rolling green hills. At times we thought we were lost in Ireland. For some reason there is a local radio station in French that plays extremely good jazz choices so I enjoyed listening to that on the drive back. We got back to the campground to find we had left the towels out to dry, and the heavens had opened in the meantime so they were truly wet now. We felt sorry for those of you living South of the border in your near hundred degree heat as here it was a pleasant 72°, again.

We had a good night sleep with rain falling steadily overnight, and awoke to find a nearly dry morning, with lots of puddles on the ground. A quiet breakfast, before the crows descended, led to a long walk on the beach for all three of us and the waves were in marked contrast to the gentle ripples of the day before. The rainstorm overnight had whipped up some weather out to sea (Gulf of St. Lawrence) that was making it seem more like we were on the ocean by both sound and sight.

We had to move campsite to the one next door because our reservation in number 64 was only for three nights whereas we had number 65 for two more nights. It took us about 45 min. and wasn't too bad. Then we headed off for some more sightseeing and stumbled upon a very unusual place called strangely, the Dunes. It was run by very gay Potter and his partner and they had assembled several modern wood sided buildings of striking architecture full of unusual things, mainly from Asia. There was a huge garden full of statuary from all across Southeast Asia, lots of imported furniture, striking artwork, loads of pottery, a restaurant which was so busy we couldn't get into it without an hour's wait and the gardens surrounding it were full of gorgeous flowers. Photos will appear. We trundle back down the road a mile or so to a family restaurant and Liz had her fish and chips for the first time.
We then headed over to the other part of Cavendish national Park–to the east - called Stanley, which is a long barrier dunes Island and there is also an old estate called Dalvay, which was the home of one of Canada's early oil barons at the turn of the 19th century. It is now a hotel operated by the national Parks of Canada and it was there that Prince William and Duchess Kate stayed a couple of weeks ago. See the photos. You can apparently stay there and the food is reputed to be very good. They still serve "high tea" at 4 PM every afternoon.

The road took us to nearby St. Ann's village, where our intended destination was St. Ann's Catholic Church–noted in this part of the island for hosting its daily church lobster supper. It was truly in a church baseme. There was live music, and you had the choice of fish, scallops, lobster, or steak and chicken. It was preceded by a bowl of chowder, a bucket of muscles, a Caesar salad, the main course, and then your choice of pies–lemon meringue, apple, blueberry, or rhubarb crisp or chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream. It is served daily except for Sundays. A good money raiser for the church as it was packed with tourists from all over Canada and a few US licensed cars.

The Canadians are good travelers–we find ourselves surrounded by campers who are from New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Québec and other provinces. There are few Americans, at least in the campgrounds. Even in the tourism sites we see few US plates. Everyone is remarking on the heat in the states while we enjoy 72 to 75° temperatures here. When we got back last night after the church basement supper it was actually rather chilly as it was still drizzling. We got to try out the furnace to take the chill off the inside of the camper–it worked very well and within 2 min. we were toasty warm and the sense of dampness had left. Probably the furnace will get much more of a workout when we get to Newfoundland.

The sun has broken through now this morning, it is perfect weather and we may spend some time on the beach, then head for the tourism center to load this blog and upload some pictures–I think I have figured out how to do it–and then do some more sightseeing. Hope you are all avoiding the GREAT HEATof 2011.

Day 2 July 16 and onwards. (written on July 19)

The second day was a little easier as we pulled out of Connecticut and headed across Massachusetts, New Hampshire and into Maine. The state of New Hampshire, all 20 miles of it, was a heavy traffic jam of people headed toward the Maine coastline. Freeport Maine was not far and before long we were pulling into Blueberry Pond campground. It was a relatively short day of about 200 miles after our 405 mile day one. We unhooked and it felt completely different to drive the Volvo without the trailer behind. Needless to say we headed for Freeport, got there in time for a concert at the L.L. Bean headquarters store but couldn't go because there was no parking within a long-distance, and huge parking lots were completely full. We headed to the south end of town and Betsy got to enjoy her first lobster dinner! I had a great dish of mussels with Dijon mustard and a salty ham cooked in a white wine broth, preceded by a bowl of seafood chowder. Absolutely great!

Kim, I'm thinking of trying to find some way to add a little lobster symbol to someplace on the blog for each lobster that mom eats on this trip, last night (July 19) was lobster number two. See if you can find the lobster symbol and help me figure out how to put it onto the blog.



Day 3 (7/17) was a relatively late start (about 10) and we headed north through Maine–a long ways north! The roads got less and less heavily traveled and pretty soon we were the only car, and pretty soon it was a long, long way between exits. I-95 was good, our average speed remained high at our maximum 55 miles an hour that we are willing to pull the r-Pod behind us, and by late afternoon, about 4 PM we were crossing the border into Canada. All three of us, mom, me, and Maggie had our passports examined and were given clear passage into the Dominion. We then stopped at the visitor center and discussed possible campsites ahead of us for that evening, settling on one called Sunset Bay on the St. John River. It was only a few miles further on so we would not be too tired.

The St. John River turns out to be beautiful, wide, very clean looking, slow-moving and actually looks like a big, big lake that runs several hundred miles. Sunset Cove Campground turned out to be just that, positioned to see the sunset, ( the weather has remained good this whole time,) and it was almost empty. We had a wonderful large grassy and treed area all to ourselves and could hook up with water and power at minimal effort. We had stopped at the store for supplies and that night we got out the barbecue for the first time and mom grilled a delicious T-bone steak to perfection, fixed fresh yellow corn and fresh asparagus. Not a hardship!

July 20. A good sleep, breakfast and we experienced making our first tank dump from the trailer. The dump process was uneventful, thank goodness, with the help of the campground owner who kindly observed and coached as this Virginian from south of his border fumbled through it.

We then backtracked a mile or two to go to the little town of Nanticik, or something close to that, on the other side of the river. Why? Because it was the home of the worlds largest axe! This tool was proudly displayed next to the village ice arena on a lovely flowered hill, sandwiched between a grassy sports field and the community beach, boat dock, and swimming area on the river. Pictures will appear on the blog. Social comments about Betsy's posture after three days of trailering are welcome.

Next destination was Moncton. While warnings about Moose being on the highway had accompanied all of our journey through Maine, these were pale in comparison to the signage here in Canada. See the pictures! En route to Moncton, we detoured into the provincial capital of Fredericton and spent a few nice hours walking around the quaint old town streets, visiting the parliament building and reading about local Canadian history. A sandwich in the town square was accompanied by free Wi-Fi in the same place and we had a Skype conversation with Kim, got off a couple of e-mails from the iPhones and otherwise re-communicated with the collective (“you know, the Borg”).

As we headed again toward Monkton the highway was beautiful, wide, smooth, and empty. The next signage we came to was for Salisbury and I woke Betsy to tell her we were near it. This is where some of her ancestors on her paternal grandmother's side came from. About 1760 the Constantine family, being loyal to the King and rather disturbed by the revolutionary tendencies brewing in New England (Boston and Rhode Island) at that time apparently decided leave and to head for safer, royal digs. They moved north to what was then called English Canada, now the province of New Brunswick. They settled specifically in the area of Moncton and Salisbury, where they farmed and multiplied until about 1898, when one Annie Elizabeth migrated back to New York, where she meant a Henry Carey, married him, and eventually gave birth to Betsy's father.

At any rate, Betsy wanted to get off the freeway and see her "one-quarter homeland". Entering the town there was a prominent sign announcing Salisbury as the home of silver foxes. Family lore had always carried this part of the tale but it turns out to be true (a town of fox raisers). We drove into the small town (maybe 3000 population) and looked for a town hall, or Police Station, to no avail. The library was closed. I stopped into a fast food eatery and asked the only occupant, someone slightly older than me, if he was from around here. I explained our interest and he said "Constantine, yes there are some of them here. Come on, follow me and I'll take you down to see Eugene he might know about the family history.”

So by a 6 PM we had met Eugene (see photo) who is about 47 or 48 (Rich/Kim's generation of the family) and earns his living by removing trees and doing stumpage. He had a large garage, lots of heavy equipment, and a tool shop to die for, all next door to a very nice house with a pleasant yard and lots of grass. Eugene said his parents were still alive (88 years old) and he hadn't seen them for a few days so why not follow him over and they might know something more. 5 min. later we were being introduced to Paul Constantine and his wife. (See photo) Paul got out some family history in handwritten form that clearly showed a link back to Betsy's great-grandfather father Zarah and his own,Young Constantine. Zarah and Young Constantine were brothers, who also happened to married two sisters. Young died early, after three children, as did Zarah's first wife, also after three. It was natural then that Zarah would marry Young’s widow, Elizabeth, and together they would have seven or eight more children. Zarah and Elizabeth had Annie Elizabeth, mentioned in the paragraph above who immigrated back to New York. Eventually even Elizabeth, when Zarah passed away in 1905, also immigrated back to New York about 1920. For anyone not thoroughly confused at this point, it means that Paul, who we meant, and Betsy both have the same great grandmother, the twice married Elizabeth–and this is true for you too Sunny! Rich and Kim for you it is great, great.

By now it was getting late and we had to head on to Moncton. It was only a few miles, but already 830pm by the time we arrived. We had not had time to buy supplies, and I was too tired to unhook the trailer to go out searching for a restaurant, so we bought a can of spaghetti sauce at the campground store and combined it with noodles, and salad goodies. It was enough and I had a good sleep but Betsy tossed and turned apparently still wrestling with the ancestral complexities.

This was our first experience with one of the “super" campgrounds of several hundred spaces. Many of these were occupied by large vehicles, placed there for the season, some of them accompanied by quite fantastical decks, awnings, statuary, flowers, and even fountains. I cannot understand why anybody would go to such a place for more than a day or two, let alone a season as it was basically just a large grassy field with electric and water services. But there was a water park and the town of Moncton has several attractions for families with small children so that might explain it.

July 19. The next morning we headed back to Salisbury and spent a couple of hours visiting the potential cemeteries that Eugene had told us about where we might find the family grave markers. We did find some evidence of offspring of Zarah in two of these, one Catholic and the other Baptist. But we could not find his grave marker (1905) nor that of his father William, died 1865. A couple of the gravestones helped to fill out the family tree a bit further and Betsy found it both exciting and mellowing to have visited the sites. The countryside here is beautiful rolling, with open farms (both dairy and rape seed - canola oil) and reminded us of parts of central Switzerland except the architecture was not nearly as pretty.

By noon we were on our way further east and about 3:30 we were crossing the 16 mile long Confederation Bridge which joins New Brunswick province to Prince Edward Island province. The bridge is named for the role that Prince Edward Island played in hosting the conference in 1864 that forged the Confederation of Canada.

PEI is utterly unpronounceable when done the way the locals do it! But it is beautiful with a very manicured, agricultural face of rolling farmland, fir trees, often planted to form a windbreak around the farmhouse of the charming maritime architecture with steep roofs, lots of gables, and beautiful rolling highways. Within an hour we were on the northeast coast of the island viewing the Gulf of St. Lawrence and pulling into the first national Park of Canada, the Cavendish section of the PEI national Park. We registered, paid our fees, bought annual passes to the national Parks of Canada (because there are several more ahead of us and they are expensive) and found our way to site number 64 which we had selected and reserved on the Internet several weeks ago. It is one row back from the tenting sites which abut the beach area and nestled in amongst for trees with lots of wild land around. We had to evict a couple of squatters - large Brown Hares- before I could try out my backing skills and I managed to get the trailer into the spot, around the fir trees and leveled on only the sixth try!

We unhooked and immediately went for a walk to see the beach - pictures will be on the blog. It is spectacular and beautiful, the 75° weather blue sky and gentle breeze did not hurt. Exchanging a couple of texts with Kim and our neighbors the Sweeneys, told us that weather in Washington remained 97°, with 100 expected today (20th) and was the normal miserable Washington latter half of July. We will enjoy the temperate climate for you all!

July 20. we had a great sleep, and Betsy did not get up until 10:30, declaring she felt much better! Maggie and I laid around, chased rabbits, and erected the outdoor awning on the iPod to give us some shade and provide a place for sitting later tonight. Pictures on the blog. Today will be a day just resting and we can poke around the island for the next several days, using just the car–while I have become much more skilled at driving the trailer and much less nervous about it, it still is always something you have to think about.

The Volvo has worked well for trailering–there's plenty of power at 300 hp, and 350 pounds of torque. When you plug the trailer in, the computer automatically changes the shift points and adjust the stability control functions empowering an additional trailer stability control option which has made driving on uneven surfaces and where there will are crosswinds very easy. It has had an impact on our gas mileage–normally 22 to 23. This has now dropped to about 14 over the last 1100 miles. We limit ourselves to 55 miles an hour and the self adjusting cruise control functions well even with the trailer behind it, slowing automatically when we come up on traffic and speeding up again when it moves ahead. My main duty is to steer and remember to allow extra room on all the corners! I did install a second battery on the trailer so we've had plenty of power if parked without electricity, the fridge keeps everything nicely cold running on LPG, and the water supply, and toilet functions have all worked without problem. The water heater responds quickly and we've enjoyed a couple of hot showers and probably will use the rear dishwashing sink and it's coiled hose as a warm outdoor shower when we come back from the sea this afternoon, to swish off the salt.

The big sink in back is much more friendly to washing up functions than the little one inside and the two burner cooktop inside is fine for sautéing, fixing veggies, and boiling things. The barbecue hooks up in only three or 4 min. and plugs into the back of the trailer on the LPG gas line and seems to do a great job in the couple of roasting opportunities we've offered to it. Tonight I will do fresh caught salmon fillets on it. Now time to go walk on the beach! And maybe take a swim in the reputedly warm waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

Launch day & senior moments

Friday finally came! We got up at six, started doing the final loading and our 6:30 AM departure came and went. We did finally get away – at 10 o'clock and then finally left Abby Oak Drive at 10:30 after a half an hour safety check because I was not sure if the brake controller and this the weight distributing hitch were working correctly . The little trailer pulled by the big black Volvo trundled slowly down the road and on to Washington's congested pre-weekend highways.
Nervous I was, as Yoda would say. But we made it along the beltway and headed toward Baltimore and around Baltimore's beltway because we could not use the harbor tunnel with the LPG on board.
Travel at 55 miles an hour was pleasant and uneventful until we reached the first Maryland toll plaza – where cars are usually five dollars. My jaw dropped when that third axle behind this cost us a total of $15. Onward we went, until the next toll plaza and the first senior moment appeared.
Since the sign said four dollars for cars, I was expecting maybe $12 with the trailer. So I got out $15 and handed it to the toll lady, asking her if this was the last toll booth in Maryland? She looked at me said six dollars, Sir, and quizzically looking at me said this is Delaware state. (a low tax state by reputation!)
New Jerseypassed swiftly by until we got to about New Brunswick, when an hour-long traffic jam substantially slowed our already tardy progress. By now it was two in the afternoon and clearly would be 4. pm. by the time we got to our planned route of the George Washington bridge across to New York City, followed by the infamous Cross Bronx Expressway (an open war-zone in the good old days).
Both Betsy & Prudence thought crossing by the northerly Tappan Zee bridge far up the Hudson river would be a better choice. This we did! Then we spent an extra 45 min. on small town roads trying to find our way to the Saw Mill River Parkway.
Senior moment number two! Onto the sawmill river parkway where at the entry it said passenger cars only, we went! And we enjoyed several miles beautiful green curving roadway, where the trailer tracked nicely behind the car and we were enjoying the drive. How rude it was for the young lady police officer to turn on her red lights and siren and pull us over just a few miles down the road! Sir! this road is reserved for passenger cars, she said. You mean that doesn't include passenger cars with trailers? No sir . But just continue onward on this ramp and you'll be able to find your way to the interstate, she said , with a smile reserved for those too old to quite understand modern laws.
Senior moment number three! We were driving happily along interstate 84 headed across Connecticut toward whatever is in eastern Connecticut and thought we were about 25 miles from our reserved campsite. The phone in the car rang and as I said hello a lady introduced yourself as being the camp site manager and asked if we were getting close. Yes we said, we're only about 25 miles away and should be there soon. She said, where are you and we replied New Town. She didn't seem to understand that, so we tried it with the local accent - Nuuuuton. The reply was, oh you are a long way away yet that's about 75 miles from here. To make a story short I had entered wrong campsite data into the GPS and ours was on the other end of the state - about an hour and a half away – we thanked her profusely for calling, and Betsy was kind enough not to say any of the umpteen things she could've said about my mental state, memory, organizational ability and general mental state.
At 9:30 pm we pulled in for our first night - 405 miles from home, and after 11 hours.
The trusty Volvo did great towing; the trusty new r-pod did well being towed. We heated chicken stew in the microwave and fell to sleep listening to the owls of Connecticut asking whoooo we were? Not too bad.....