On The Road

As Betty & I drive from our campsite at Whycocomagh Provincial Park to Baddeck, Nova Scotia, I can’t help but think back to an interesting encounter in the early 1990’s.  David Milgaard had recently been released from Manitoba’s Stony Mountain Penitentiary, after serving 23 years in federal prison for a murder that he did not commit. The John Howard Society of Canada was holding its Annual Meeting in Baddeck, and I arranged for David to be flown in as guest speaker.

Donald Marshall Jr. had similarly been wrongfully convicted of murder, with a high profile 1990 royal commission producing 82 recommendations for fundamental changes to the justice process. It turned out that Donald, who was originally from the Membertou Reserve in Sydney, Nova Scotia, was living just down the road from Baddeck.  David and Donald had never met, but each was familiar with the other’s case due to national – and some international – attention.

Donald (known as Junior to his family and friends) graciously agreed to pick up David and me at our hotel in Baddeck, and drive us back to his home on St. Patrick’s Channel. That night Donald’s family gathered at his home to recognize his brother’s birthday, and we were invited to stay for a traditional Mi’kmaq celebration. David and I ended up spending the night, with Donald and David sharing many heavy conversations about their injustice experiences.  It was a most unique encounter, and I have always been glad to have played a role in their meeting, and to have shared the many learnings from their life stories.

It has now been a quarter century since that get-together, but my thoughts go back to that time as we journey the TransCanada Highway from Whycocomagh to Baddeck. With the help of the Association In Defense of the Wrongly Convicted, Donald and David played a significant role in addressing the plight of those in prison for crimes they did not commit. Donald passed away in 2009, and David continues to encourage others from his home in Calgary, Alberta. A big “miigwetch” to them both!

They say John Cabot discovered Cape Breton Island in June 1497, but I am here to record that Betty, Graham, Charlie & Gavin discovered the island in August 2018. This is a brief pictorial rendering of what we found yesterday.

Ok, that was yesterday. Most of our future troop movements are a secret (even to us), but we’ll keep you posted if you have the necessary security clearance to receive our updates.

Cheers!

As Betty & I continue our overlandish odyssey, we are struck by how beautiful and diverse Canada is! There are so many grand iconic symbols in our country, from west to east, north to south. Each has a story to tell that contributes to the amazing, elaborate fabric of our nation.  This week we visited one of the east coast’s iconic regions: The Cabot Trail at the tip of Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton Island.  Words and pictures alone do not do justice to what we saw and experienced. At some point I hope that all of our family and friends can make the journey to this breathtaking region. In the meantime, here are some pics taken along the way – many from a moving Smart car, as the narrow trail would have needed a continuous roadside pull-off to capture all the beautiful vistas.

Our first stop after leaving PEI was at a Boondockers Welcome home on the south shore of the Northumberland Strait, in another new province: Nova Scotia. Our host was away at the time, but was gracious enough to allow us to stay in her driveway and sit at her patio by the water, while she was gone.

We expected to find a serviced

campsite on arrival at Baddeck, a centrally located town on Cape Breton Island. But when Betty & I stopped at the Welcome Centre on the way into Nova Scotia, the staff member warned us that we might not find accommodation without a reservation. She called the Baddeck area campgrounds for us, and sure enough, they were full. In the end, she found unserviced spots for us in Whycocomagh Provincial Park, near the start of the Cabot Trail. We spent 2 nights in the first, and are now in the second scenic spot for 3 nights.

From our campground we set out on a counterclockwise loop around the Trail, placing all of our scenic lookouts on the right-hand side. Fortunately, we heeded the warning to take our Smart, and leave the Boy at our campsite. BTW, this move saved us about $175. in gas costs. While we saw a few motorhomes on the trail, most appeared to be laboring on the steep, twisty inclines. We saw

one struggling diesel pusher, with its tow vehicle disconnected and following behind with hazard lights activated. Very few pull-offs could accommodate a larger motorhome, and the narrow roadways, with little or no paved margins, would have contributed to a not-so-pleasant white-knuckle drive.

In the seven hours we took to make the loop, Betty & I took about 300 pictures. The approx. 18 pictures in this post only provide a brief taste of this spectacular landscape. We hope all can take the time to visit this iconic corner of our beautiful tapestry.  Enjoy the Trail!

Cheers!

This pictorial post is intended to capture some – but not all – of the essential elements of Prince Edward Island. I am hoping to add to it before we leave.

Naïve and uniformed. Those are the qualities I attribute to myself as I think about preparing a post to describe Charlottetown, the capital city of the province of Prince Edward Island. Betty & I have only been here a matter of a few hours, so how is it possible for me to accurately and legitimately assess the pulse of this place?  Of course, it is not, so I should just fold up my laptop and not further clutter the www with my simplistic characterizations.

Or not… If you end up reading this post, you will know which way I went. LOL.

My first impression is that size matters, and Charlottetown appears to be right-sized. The streets and sidewalks are busy with people, but not to the point where you can’t find a parking spot, or have to wait in long lines for any activity (except maybe ordering Cows ice cream. LOL). At the extremes, there are cities whose cores have died – you could shoot a cannon down the deserted streets and not hit anyone. Then there are cities that have become so bloated that every artery is a traffic jam, and every transaction requires a monotonous wait for others. Charlottetown is in a very pleasant space between those two extremes.

Personal safety is not simply a factor of size, but many of the desolate city cores seem to have been abandoned to dispossessed street gangs. And many of the oversized cities appear overrun with impatient people who become easily irritated by their neighbours.  It’s ironic that anonymity is more prevalent in larger urban areas. At both extremes, we seem to see a much greater police presence. I had to chuckle to myself that, while I did pass 2 RCMP detachments in the few hours of visiting the suburbs and the active core, I didn’t actually see one police car, or officer walking the beat. Some people might question their level of personal safety if there aren’t visible armed officers to protect them, but I think not on PEI.

In my last post I referred to the qualities of kindness and generosity as apparent locally inherent characteristics. That sense is sustained in this city, from easy lane merges on the highways to polite rotations at 4 way stops. At a local PEI liquor store, I asked the checkout clerk about local wineries. He and the clerk next to him gave me a quick rundown of where they are located, but he seemed

apologetic that he couldn’t tell me more. I almost felt he was about to say: “Come over to my place for supper tonight, and I’ll call my nephew, Bob. He has a good friend that works at one of the wineries, and he can tell you all about it.” That didn’t happen, but if I had lingered long enough, it wouldn’t have surprised me if it had! LOL.

In his important criminal justice work, entitled “The Lucifer Effect – Understanding How Good People Turn Evil, Stanford Professor Philip Zimbardo noted:

“Dehumanization is one of the central processes in the transformation of

ordinary, normal people into indifferent or even wanton perpetrators of

evil. Dehumanization is like a cortical cataract that clouds one’s thinking

and fosters the perception that other people are less than human. It

makes some people come to see those others as enemies deserving of

torment, torture, and annihilation.”

Ok, maybe that’s a little too heavy for this blog. When I served on the Federal Justice Minister’s Advisory Committee on Crime Prevention and Community Safety, we noted that block parties are an effective tool for preventing crime by building healthy neighbourhood networks. Charlottetown appears to have those networks in spades!

During our stay in the neighbouring town of Cornwall, we have been graciously welcomed by our Boondockers Welcome hosts Kevin & Ellie. They live in an 1830’s era farmhouse in the centre of town, on a beautifully landscaped property that provides a great home-base for us. Last night Ellie took Betty to yoga at a scenic spot by the

water in Argyle Shore Provincial Park, and it was free! Kevin shared some of his travel experiences with us, and we have a sense that there are many more stories to be told.

In a province with an overall population of around 145,000, it feels like people know and respect each other with a genuine sense of caring. Naïve and uniformed. That is a legitimate critique of this post. We are off to the Confederation Centre of the Arts tonight to see a local production of Jesus Christ Superstar, and are scheduled to leave Charlottetown tomorrow. It is too short a visit to make a more accurate assessment. So I guess we’ll just have to come back!!!

Cheers!

After a quiet, peaceful stay at John & Donna’s Boondockers Welcome site near Kouchibouguac National Park (you have to ask the locals how to pronounce it) we drove down the picturesque New Brunswick coast to Bouctouche, where we expected to get our fill of scallops. The annual scallop festival was last weekend in Bouctouche, but we figured there would still be some left over if we arrived on Monday. We figured wrong…

There was not a scallop to be had, so instead the local fish market stocked us up with crab, lobster, and seafood lasagna. I guess we didn’t come away too badly after all. LOL

We continued on down the coastal road with Shediac, New Brunswick, as our destination for the next couple of days. Our large, full service site is in the popular Parlee Beach Provincial Park, where we were eligible for a senior’s discount. Ain’t it great being old!

It’s likely been at least 20 years

since I was in Shediac – the Lobster Capital of the World! – and I remember stopping at a canteen on the wharf for a lobster supper. The cook passed the lobster out through the open window, and I unceremoniously ate it at a picnic table overlooking the harbor.  I was hoping to share a similar experience with Betty, but it seems the vendor has been replaced by a series of

full-blown restaurants. While they offered attractive choices of inside or outside dining, in the end we opted to stop at a local fish market, and picked up some cooked lobster for dinner.

We took the lobster back to our campsite, where we could shower off after splattering ourselves in lobster goop. You can see by the pic that we bought three: one for Betty, one for Gavin, and one for me. Ok, in the end Betty & I helped Gavin eat his, as

his eyes were bigger than his stomach. LOL.  Since we didn’t have the delicate tools on hand for removing the tasty morsels from the crustaceans’ extremities, we resorted to smacking the claws with my hammer, and cutting the shells with a pair of tin snips. It wouldn’t have been an attractive sight in a restaurant, but MacGyver would have been proud! LOL

Tomorrow we head across the Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island, where church basement lobster suppers became popular. Betty, Gavin, and I are looking forward to at least a few more crustacean delicacies before we leave the Maritimes. But we know if other locations run out of seafood, we can always head back to Shediac – Lobster Central!

Cheers!

Tempus Fugit (time flies) – Regardless of my longstanding desire to travel through time to that idyllic little quiet childhood village that greeted us warmly when my family immigrated to Canada in 1956, it appears that time does march on, and it is not possible – yet – to go back in time.

There were many warning signs along the way that Douglastown, New Brunswick, had changed in the past 60 years. Despite returning on a few occasions, it has been at least 15 years since I set foot in the place.  Certainly changes were noticeable on prior visits, but none as dramatic as the current unexpected experience.

On entering the province, we stopped at a tourist information centre in Campbellton, and received an extensive package of promotional material, just about my former hometown!

Of course, Douglastown per se, doesn’t exist anymore. It was consumed in the amalgamation of Newcastle, Chatham, and Douglastown (and Nordin and possibly other adjacent communities, if I were to do the proper research) into the new City of Miramichi. Also in 1967 it was forever changed by the addition of the Centennial Bridge, spanning the mighty Miramichi River to link Douglastown and Chatham. Back in the day, when we lived there, summer travel was by ferry, and winter travel by ice road. I believe, in our first year in Canada, my dad won the recognition of being the last car across the ice before breakup. In his case it was not because he was a risk-taker, but because someone told him it was safe, and he believed them, despite the cracking sounds every few feet! LOL.

Another warning sign came when I googled Douglastown street view, as we planned our overlandish odyssey. There on the front lawn of the manse, the first home we occupied in Canada, was a “for sale” sign.  Oh, oh!  But regardless of whether St. Mark’s United Church still owned and occupied the home next door, Betty & my plans always took us to Douglastown in time for

church on Sunday. That was our touchstone, our contact point for reconnecting with a long-lost church family.  On prior visits, I was always welcomed warmly by members of the congregation who remembered my dad, mom, brother and me, despite having been gone so many years.

Maybe townsfolk remembered my parents because, in our first year, my mom was constantly telling people how homely they were! Something got lost in translation, because she thought she was telling people they made her feel right at home with them, and they thought she was saying something else. LOL.

In any event, my family experienced a warm maritime welcome, with many “firsts” occurring in the community. For me, I learned to skate on the Miramichi at a cleared rink, just down from our home. The path down provided my first tobogganing experience, and the deep snow gave endless outdoor exercise. That lane is now called McKnight Lane – I’m sure after Mrs. McKnight, the store owner across the street from the church, but to me it is Memory Lane. When I think about it, there were too many reminisces and great experiences to reflect on in this simple blog post, so I’d better save them for another day…

Back to the future: 2018. The first school I attended has been demolished, and a sign warns not to trespass on private property. The manse has, indeed, been sold, and we met the tenant of what had been a far more attractive house.  But

the big change: auugghh! The first church my father served as Minister in Canada is no more! It is now an ice cream parlour in front, and the “Clay Café” in back. The steeple is gone, and the building transformed inside and out to make it almost unrecognizable.

The quiet little village is no more, with the road in front of our home containing a high volume of traffic. Back in the day, we were allowed to wander freely in the community, as long as we were home for supper. Now, even adults are at risk crossing the busy road! Down the street are all the national and international chains found everywhere else on the continent: Walmart, Staples, Winners, McDonalds – the long list of fast food and retail chain stores that make it indistinguishable.

OK, that’s enough moaning about stuff I didn’t expect. We stayed at an unexpectedly beautiful Boondockerswelcome site in Lower Newcastle, camped right next to the Miramichi. And we took a very pleasant boat tour up and down the mighty river. We met the man who has been hosting a web site in honour of a local artist who was a friend of my dad, back in the day.  And best of all, we reconnected with my best chum from back in the day, Graham, who was a great friend to this Graham, the newcomer.

I could be disconcerted by all the unexpected changes that have occurred in this beautiful area of New Brunswick, but as an eternal optimist I’ll just continue to keep my eyes open for that special DeLorean that can transport me back to an idyllic age. LOL.

Cheers!

When we left our campsite near Gaspé, Betty & I had no idea how far we would travel that day. The road leading to Land’s End had been quite twisty and steep, and we weren’t sure if we would experience more of the same on the south shore of the Gaspé Peninsula. As it turned out, the terrain became calmer, and so did our nerves.

We took the time to rest at a roadside stop in Chandler, QC, with Charlie and Gavin both enjoying the sea and the sand. Our hoped for destination was Carleton-sur-Mer, Quebec, but the campground turned out to be more popular than we expected, so we motored on.

As it happened, we were happy to spend the night on the south bank, where the Restigouche River empties into the Bay of Chaleur. Campbellton, New Brunswick, was our first stop in this new province, and we shared a great conversation on the shore with Doreen & Frank from Cobourg, Ontario, who were on their way for an rv visit to Newfoundland.

From Campbellton we headed along the Bay of Chaleur to the Acadian Peninsula, stopping for a great seafood lunch by the wharf at Grande-Anse.  We then spent a couple of enjoyable nights at Colibre sur mer in Caraquet, New Brunswick, a pretty little city in the heart of New Brunswick’s Acadian population. We took the time to drive to the tip of the Acadian Isles, at Ile Miscou, for an ice cream cone by their famous lighthouse.

The Caraquet campground turned out to be a peaceful stop for a nice stroll along the waterfront while we watched the sun go down over the Bay of Chaleur; a calm day in a new province…

Cheers!