Claustrophobic? Afraid Of Drowning? How About A Trip To A Sea Cave?

Saturday August 16, 2014

Well, we have been looking at the sea caves from our campsite and today is the day we will venture into them.  At high tide, they are under 32 feet of water.  (I want to take a moment right now to thank my French readers, as I am flattered because I am a shameless Francophile.  Now I need to apologize because I don't know what 32 feet equals in meters.  They stopped teaching metrics here in the 1970's when our government realized we were not going to convert.  We are a stubborn people.)

Receding High Tide

We decide to pack up first and then head out to breakfast.  We park the RV awkwardly in front of an old Grange Hall and head into Fiori's, famished.  The coffee is amazing and the breakfast burrito is so enormous it defeats Charlie, which is not easy.  Alas the pancakes do not stand a chance against the appetite of a 17 year old boy.  Mary orders yogurt and fruit.  Please try not to dislike her.  I eat every bite of my huevos rancheros and Rob virtuously leaves two bites of his French toast.

Now it's time for our "adventure."  Have I mentioned I'm claustrophobic and have an intense fear of drowning?  And we're clear that these are caves that are completely under water a lot of the time?  We drive to the entrance of the park which is on Mac's Beach, if our multi-colored map is to be believed.  There's a stream to be crossed which looks pretty benign until you stand and watch one hapless victim after another slip and fall onto the rocks.  Hmmm.  

Rob, ever intrepid, takes Charlie's hand and helps him across.  He comes back for Mary and immediately takes a nice hard fall into the icy water.  He gets up smiling, though.  I would have been bawling my eyes out.  Which is why it takes a fair amount of convincing to get me to cross.  By the way, we are all wearing horrible footwear choices.  Maybe a little research might have been good on this one.  Anyway, we all make it across and wait for Peter who is wearing awesome new kicks.  Not a speck of dirt on them.  He does not want to come.  A woman materializes out of nowhere to let us know that there is a path further up that goes over a storm drain.  Peter is off to find it.  We do some exploring.

That's not a miner's lantern...it's the GoPro!  Pretty chic, eh?

The caves are pretty cool, but they are, you know, caves and so once we poke around a bit and discover no pirate booty or sea monsters, we are kind of done.

Mighty Charlie has conquered the caves.

Peter, still searching for that elusive land path...

We finally discover the "easy" way back and use the outdoor hose feature of the RV to rinse off all the grit from our ruined shoes.  Grateful to be on dry land and in the safety of the RV, we head off to Bethel, ME.

Rob is still driving.  Every day he says, "Maybe tomorrow you might want to give driving a try."  I say, "Sure."  But I never do!  He's such a good sport about it.  We stop for one last picture of the harbor at low tide.  So cool.

We are meant to be in Bethel for a big family dinner.  Reservations are at 6:00.  No problemo we assure the inlaws.  Oh, there is problemo.  Do I have to say it?  If you've been reading this blog up to now, you probably saw this coming 3 sentences ago.  GOOGLE MAPS.  According to GM, this trip should take about five hours.  HAH!  First of all, we have to follow a windy, narrow route that hugs the coastline.  Point A to point B are not that far as the crow flies, but we are not crows.  We are a lumbering behemoth.  Then, we get stopped at the border.  If you've seen the movie, "We Are The Millers," you will have a pretty good idea of the scene.  I'd like to point out that they practically waved us through the check point to get into Canada.  Oh Canada.  The U.S. Border guards are on their A-game today.

We are pulled over and questioned:  Do you have anything to declare?  (Yes, this is taking entirely too long)  Do you have any alcohol, tobacco, or firearms?  (Does gin count?  No?  That's what we thought)  How about fruits, vegetables or plants? (No, unless you count all the apples, grapes, carrots, and kale in our fridge!)  Our hope is that they will send us on our way.  The clock is ticking.  Next thing you know, Barney Fife is in our RV, rummaging through the cabinets and fridge.  In transit, everything shifts, so every cabinet he opens spills out on top of him.  I am trying so hard not to laugh.  He opens the fridge and confiscates our illegal food, probably so he can enjoy it later.  Doesn't that just say something about Americans?  You can bring the Doritos but not the celery.  We hate vegetables here.  I'm not sure by what act of God he doesn't open the freezer (where all normal people stash their gin), but we are spared and he lets us off with a warning.  

We're back on the road again, but it's slow going.  I'm on the phone with my sister-in-law who is pleading the case for changing the reservation.  Nothing doing.  Fine, we say, we'll get something on our own and then meet up with everyone later.  Well, that's no good either.  Stress, anyone?  We finally make it in to Bethel around 6:30.  This is fine with me because that's cocktail hour and I'm ready.  As it turns out, the reservation was graciously moved and we are greeted with hugs, kisses, and cousins descending on the RV likes the invasion of Normandy.  They jump on the beds and open the fridge and for some reason, they ALL have to use the bathroom.  

My adorable nieces, Stina and Lizzie enjoy the master bedroom.

Beautiful niece Sarah...glad her parents didn't drag her on an RV oddessey.

It's all novel to them, but to us, we are looking forward to real beds and showers, living space that's bigger than 6' x 4', and PRIVACY.  Also, nice clothes:

Mary hates this picture...sorry, Mare.

We will spend a week in Bethel, Maine before heading south for our last night at Aunt Sue and Uncle Bert's farm.  Then we bid adieu to our Great Big Wonder and resume our lives as a stationary family.  There will be talk of a trip to Florida for Christmas break, but the fact that it will be in an RV is a deal breaker.  

Thank you all for reading!  It was fun to write and I hope I have inspired you all to give it a try at least once.  A picture is truly worth a thousand words:

Fi-diddle-de-dee....the RV life for me!

This Is How Horror Movies Start

Friday August 15, 2015

I suppose you are wondering about the title of this post.  It does NOT in any way refer to St. Martins, New Brunswick or Century Farm campground.  These are charming places and we are very happy to explore the waterfront of our campsite as well as the adorable town in which it's located.

Our view

We spend the first day checking out the town and laying in some provisions from the tiny general store.  They make their own sausage, so of course we have to try those.  Also, vegetables because you know, Twizzlers.  We buy some firewood on the way back from the campground next door and have our lunch of sandwiches.  Mary has one of her Magic Bullet smoothies again.  I don't know how she does it.  After that, the boys putter around a bit while Rob does some work (that thing that's paying for all this adventure).  Mary and I decide to walk to St. Martins Harbour where, we are told, there will be shopping which has been in short supply this trip.  Our campground hosts, Byard and Linda Moran, supply us with a map:

If there is one thing I learned on this trip about campground hosts it's that they LOVE maps and sharpies.  Just look at all those colors!  Anyway, what looks like it will be a pretty good hike turns out to take just about 20 minutes.  On the way there, we pass beautiful old summer cottages, several of which are now B&Bs.  We also come upon this interesting covered bridge.

If you can see the purple blob toward the top of the map, that is our destination.  It's Harbour Park and there is a faux lighthouse with plexiglass windows and a treacherous staircase to the top.  The effect is a little like being in a strange attic.  It's dusty and filled with old photos of people we don't know.  On the way down, we make the mistake of engaging in chit chat with the girl behind the information desk.  I'm thinking she doesn't see too many visitors.  As the sun begins to set and the breeze turns chillier, she decides to engage us in a thorough examination of what we are planning to do and see.  As we are leaving tomorrow after a quick tour of the sea caves, we can't really tell her much.  HUGE MISTAKE.  She starts adding colors to our map with a crayon, highlighting her faves. She thrusts brochures we already have into our hands.  We take them; she is scary.

You can never have too many brochures...

Okay, here's the horror movie part.  As we are trying to leave, she calls us back one more time to tell us about the one thing we "absolutely, positively have to do."  There is a place called Anvil Rock where there's a real lighthouse and "the BEST beach ever."  Having been to the Grenadine Islands, I doubt this, but she is on a roll.  She tells us, "You have to climb over some slippery rocks to get there, and you must leave before dark because once the tide rolls in you'll be stranded for the night."  Ummm...no thank you?  We thank her and pry ourselves away.  As we are leaving, Mary, who is prone to scary scenarios, supposes that if we went, we would likely run into our enthusiastic tour guide wielding an axe and laughing maniacally.  They always fall for it!  Ha Ha Ha Ha! 

We head back to the RV where the boys have made a roaring campfire.  The previously serene campground has been replaced by a raucous, packed RV party.  It's Friday and the weekenders have arrived.  I'm reminded of those scenes in movies when the circus comes to town and sets up their camp.  What is fascinating to me is that they all seem to know each other.  We must look like outliers to them: this quiet, white bread family of five, with our foldable camp chairs and '40s era big band playing on our speakers.  I pour myself a martini and Rob cracks a beer and we soak in the goings on around us.

After our dinner of delightful homemade sausages, bacon drippings-roasted potatoes (if you said 'ew', don't knock it till you try it) and a big salad, we huddle around the campfire for s'mores.  The younger two retire fairly quickly because the weather has turned downright cold.  See your breath cold.  The 17 year old waits it out till us old folks head inside as well; he has a prowl in mind, we think.  Sure enough, he disappears for a while and we go to bed.  Oh to be young and anticipating adventure around every corner!  He returns just in time to say goodnight.  We are not sure if he's smiling because he had some fun or because tomorrow is our last day.  The kids are all kind of RV'd out at this point, but they've been great sports.

We didn't even make them stand together.  Surely this St. Martins is a land of miracles.

So Long Haligonians!

Thursday August 14, 2014

SO LONG HALIGONIANS!

Well, it's our final day in Halifax.  The day dawns chilly and gray.  We are so happy we chose yesterday as our beach day.  The weather's so different today, it could be from another season.  After a little walk around to secure some souvenirs and possibly some giftys, we are hungry for lunch.  Earlier in the day, we lured everyone from the RV and one of my ridiculous breakfasts with the promise of a hearty lunch.  By the time we hike around the impossibly steep streets of the city, the chill wind biting our noses, everyone is quite ready for some comfort food.  And where better to find that than a traditional Irish pub?

Inside, we are greeted with a big smile and a gorgeous Irish lilt.  As we gather around the big old wooden table, Charlie is handed a children's placemat (with a menu printed on it just for the wee folk) and a cup of crayons.  From the look on his face, they might just as well have brought him a high chair and a bib.  He is incredulous.  I share my menu with him before he can mount one of his signature diatribes against our poor waiter.  Sodas are brought in due time and all is forgotten.  The salad I was going to order suddenly seems ridiculous.  So I order this instead:

Fried calamari with french fries and cole slaw...

It is every bit as yummy as it looks.  Mary does order a salad and I pause to admire her self-restraint, but only briefly because, well, look at that picture.

Anyway, after a lunch like this, we can't possibly want dessert...or can we?  Cue demented laugh.  OF COURSE we have dessert.  After all, we will be sitting in the RV for the next five hours and that takes a lot of energy.  There is brownie.  There is chocolate.  There is ice cream.  There is regret.  But not much.

Rob, Mary, Charlie, and Peter

After that, we waddle back to the Breaking Bad car and head back to Dartmouth to begin breaking down the RV for the long ride to our next and last destination before we hit Bethel, ME for a week long celebration of my mother and father-in-law's fiftieth wedding anniversary.  Google Maps, true to form, have us arriving around 5 o'clock.  Real life gets us there closer to 7.  

Check in at Century Farm Campground

This is a stupid angle.  We have a view of the water that's fantastic.

On our way into St. Johns, there's a roadside stand selling lobster rolls and chowdah.  While my clan cowers in the RV (it's raining and chilly) I procure our dinner.  There are two Frenchmen waiting for their food and I pass the time trying to understand what they are saying, but alas, Canadian French is very different from the language I'm used to.  The food takes an inexplicably long time to prepare, considering it's already been cooked and only needs to be bundled for transport.  Two other things offer diversion from the wait:  a precocious little boy and his trucks, which I get a full description of, including the names of the drivers; a collection of 8 track tapes that are for sale.  And yes, there is a Partridge Family one.  I ask the proprietor about them and she says she does have people stopping by occasionally, looking for one.  Maybe for something to do before the key party at the disco?

The food is really tasty, but mine will wait while I mix up a proper martini.  Rob's given up the hard stuff for the trip, and is going in for local beers.  This is why I can fit more of the lobster roll into my tummy:  beer takes up room!

After a bit of cleaning up and arranging our stuff, we head to bed.  Tomorrow we will check out St. Martin's and the Fundy Trail.

The Fundy Trail

Life's A Beach

Wednesday August 13 , 2014

LIFE'S A BEACH

So today we are up early.  We all love the beach and can't wait to get there on this gloriously warm, sunny day.  Up to this point, it has been mostly sunny but quite chilly but somehow today it is perfect sand between the toes weather.  Rob goes to pick up the rental car, as we are not crazy enough to lumber around the narrow country roads to the beach in our behemoth.  Rob returns with a you-know-what-eating grin on his face.  Our car is an exact replica of the one on Breaking Bad.  I have to be told this by my husband and son because I can't watch that show; I'm too much of a lover for that kind of violence.

Walter White Skrzypczak

It's a pleasure to ride in something so compact for a change.  The winding roads meander through fishing villages that are quite pretty.  I'd like to tell you about the conversation we have in the car, but both teens have their headphones in and Charlie has his head out of the window like the family dog as he struggles with carsickness.  We are glad his head is out of the window.  We decide to stop and procure a picnic lunch at a very shady-looking gas/convenience store.  For two intelligent beings, we often make surprisingly bad decisions.  It takes almost forty minutes for our order to be filled.  In the meantime, we watch a parade of 'regulars' march in and out, food in hand.  I was not feeling the love.  But then...I found a liquor section in the back!  We are out of gin (I KNOW!) in the RV and so I pick that up, as well as some local wines, just for fun.  Finally, our orders are done and we head off, fish and chips in hand.  Also salad because we are going to be in swimsuits and salad makes you skinny...NOT!

We arrive at Crystal Crescent Beach around noon.  It is a short walk from the parking lot (past the outhouse) and onto a white sand beach, surrounded by scrub pine and huge rock formations.  There are a few people there already and more making the same schlepp as us.  The water is Caribbean blue.  "Is it warm?"  Charlie wants to know.  Well, what do you think?  After poking our toes in and ascertaining that we are very far north of warm, we decide to eat.  

Is Peter aware of this impending doom?

Apparently not.

Do not be fooled by the color of this water.

Fortified, we decide that we must take the plunge.  Note to Mom:  we do not wait 30 minutes.  I stop at the edge, watching Charlie and Rob go bravely forward.  It's not the cold that has me though.  There are red jelly fish and lots of them.  I stand and stare.  Then, something amazing happens.  A young girl picks one out of the water, flip-flops it back and forth in her hands a few times, then casually throws it back in.  Hmmm.  I surmise that these red jelly fish do not sting.  Okay.  Deep breath and then...oh wait.  I have the waterproof case on the GoPro.  It's named (adorably) the Floaty Bac.  By the time I retrieve it, Rob's out of the water and Mary's going in.  I run and plunge, as that's the only way to do cold water, then decide to test out the camera's underwater capabilities.

My own Little Mermaid.

Pretty cool, huh?  It also did video, but this platform doesn't seem to support that but if you go to a sink right now and splash around a bit, you'll get the full effect.

After our swim, the slugs tuck in for a nap in the sun while Mary and I decide to go for a hike to explore the other two beaches in the park.  On our way to the third one, we meet a petite blonde lady in a killer bikini.  She's gotta be at least sixty.  You go girl!  She stops us to ask where we are going.  Good thing.  It turns out the next beach is a nude beach.  We don't want to know the country that intimately, so we thank her and turn back, receiving odd stares from those heading toward us.  Crisis averted.  Later in the afternoon, Peter disappears for quite some time.  I wonder if he found that third beach?  

On the way home, we stop at a market and pick up fresh haddock.  The freshest, as it comes right from the Bay of Fundy.  I grill it with some lemon and butter and we eat like kings.  It's actually sweet!  After dinner, we have s'mores by the campfire and then waddle into the RV.  Tomorrow we are having lunch and a bit of shopping in Halifax and then heading to our penultimate destination:  St. Johns, New Brunswick.

The smile says it all.

Yes, Honey, Coffee IS That Important.

Tuesday August 12, 2014

So, we got up a little late today.  Rob has some work to do and Mary and I are feeling the effects of sitting in the RV and eating...EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.  So we decide to go for a walk around the campground.  As I said before, Shubie campground is located in Dartmouth.  You literally drive through a suburban neighborhood, filled with Brady Bunch type houses, into a cul-de-sac and that's where this thing is.

Inside, there are two lakes connected by a canal.  The canal is in bad disrepair, but there is a pretty trail that leads by it and there are informational signs along the way.  At the other end of the canal is a lake with houses and boats bobbling around.  There are lots of dogs being put through their paces by owners who no doubt realize that a tired dog makes for a happy campsite.

While we are gone, Rob finds out the bus schedule into Halifax.  He tells us they pretty much leave every twenty minutes, so we head up there, passing a man who looks exactly like a Leprechaun.  We spend the rest of the walk speculating as to where his pot of gold is and what we could do with it.  Number 1 answer:  get a hotel room.  Anyway, as it turns out, the buses leave not every twenty minutes, but at twenty past the hour.  Harumph.  You know, there is even less to do at a bus stop than than you might think.  Charlie recounts the entire plot of two YouTube videos, with dialogue.  It was every bit as entertaining as you might imagine.

Needless to say, we do not get into Halifax until close to three.

 By the time we get off the ferry and find our way up the hill toward town, it's coffee time.  Yes, that's actually a designated time of day for Mary and me.  We're jonesing bad.  Siri says there's a cafe on the way, so we stop there, which requires incredible patience on the part of my history loving hubby.  He can't wait to get to that old fort.  The coffee is amazing, which makes up for the indifferent service of the Frenchman behind the counter.  The boys load up on pastries and so we sit for a few minutes, which is all it takes for them to inhale all 2,000 calories in front of them.

Rob leads us on a run up the vertical street to the Citadel.  I'm surprised no one throws up.  He's a little testy with us until we get there and find out it closes an hour later than he thought.  I have to admit, it's a very interesting place with plenty of exhibits that are informative and child-friendly.  Outside, there are spectacular views of Halifax and the surrounding water.

Inside, there is a GIFT SHOP!!!  I love gift shops and so do the kids.  Here are some photos of us trying on silly hats:

I really should have bought that one.  I think it would make Red Zone duty much more interesting.

We also make a stop at a real record store so we can demonstrate to the kids why they are called 'albums' when they all come in digital form.  My father-in-law loves Nana Mouskouri.  He also thinks I look like her.  So I make him a montage of the surprisingly complete collection at the store. 

For me, it is all roses and sunshine.

After all that history, we are hungry.  We decide to eat in a place called The Five Fishermen.  It has awesome history.  At one point it was a morgue!

Pretty spooky, eh?

Anyway, it also has awesome food and mediocre martinis.  I think martinis are strictly an american thing.  Also, the glass has a lipstick stain on it (ewww) and then when I unroll my napkin, it has one as well.  Was I being haunted by the ghost of some glamorous Titanic casualty?  From the reaction of our waiter, I gather these things happen with some frequency.  All that aside, we have a wonderful dinner.

Charlie and me...

We cab it 'home' to our waiting RV.  It's pretty late and tomorrow we are going to the beach!

Sorry to leave you hanging!

Hi all you wonderful readers!  I apologize for not entering the remaining posts yet.  I personally enjoy blogs more when there are pictures.  Unfortunately, my laptop died recently and that's where all my pix of the trip live.  I will finish my story when I can figure out how to access them.  Please check back soon if you want to hear the rest!  And as always, thank you so much for reading!

Monday, August 11, 2014

When I was a little girl, my father, a generally mild-mannered man, occasionally totally lost it with my sister, Elaine and me.  It was in those moments that he inevitably threatened to kick us "all the way to Halifax."  I guess in his Navy days he had at some point anchored at the port there and in his mind it remained a symbol of a place far-flung enough to exile naughty children to.

A Halifax brochure.  The port is in the upper right photo.

Anyway, today, I am very excited because I am finally going to set foot on that fabled ground.  But first, we have to get there.  Let's see...Google Maps says it will take about three hours.  So, using our newly developed RV logarithm, that means we should be there by Wednesday.  But first, my husband declares he needs coffee before we can do anything, so we stop at a little general store on the way out of town.  Have I mentioned that Eastport, Me. is an amazing place?  Well aside from being beautiful and aside from an apparent law that everything must be delicious, it also seems that chivalry is mandated there.  As Rob fills up our gas tank, I head into the store with Mary.  From the other side of the RV, I hear a little cry of "get donuts, too."  Really?  Oh, alright.  Now, picture this scene happening anywhere in our vicinity:  one man approaches the door, but steps back to allow us to go ahead of him; from inside the store, another man sweeps the door open and steps back to allow us to pass through; at checkout, the man in front of us insists we go first.  Is this Disneyworld?  I half-expect little bluebirds to come out of nowhere to carry our coffee and donuts back to the RV.  In our neck of the woods I have literally had men cut in front of me and let the door slam in my face.

Back on the road, we pass the spot where we are exactly halfway between the North Pole and the Equator.  There's a sign and a bench.  I want to stop for a picture, but we really can't waste any time if we want to get to Nova Scotia before it's too dark.  We are already a day late, having found it difficult to leave the beauty of the Seaview.    

A little bit about where we are going and why I feel slightly apprehensive about the next campground.  We will be staying in a town called Dartmouth, which is a suburb of Halifax.  The campground is in a city park on Lake Charles.  In other words, it's a bit like pulling up to the Kennedy Onassis Reservoir in Central Park and setting up camp.  I read reviews on Trip Advisor, as well as Good Sam (an RV resource) that were quite a mixed bag.  I think one either loves it or hates it.  My thinking was that everything is within walking distance or accessible by bus, so we would not have to maneuver the beast around quaint Halifaxian street.  Also that there would be much to do outside the campground, so we could treat it like a cheap hotel room in a nice city.  Just for sleeping.

That's where we're headed.

Of course we are running a little low on necessities, so we decide to look for a Walmart once we clear the Canadian border.  Why wait?  Well, we're not quite clear on what we can and can't carry over the border.  I would hate to start our Canadian adventure out with a record.  My handy app confirms that Canadians are just as crazy for giant boxes of cereal and cheap decor as Americans and my map lights up like a Christmas tree.  As we approach Dartmouth, we decide to stop at the next location we find which is...ten miles ago.  So we stop at a grocery store which is very luxe.  It reminds me of a Whole Foods in its set up and also the word 'ORGANIC' everywhere.  Also everywhere:  photos of Jamie Oliver's grinning puss.  His products are in every aisle.  I'm surprised it's not called Oliver's Kingdom.  One problem is they don't carry wine.  I  KNOW!  We are almost out and cocktail hour is looming in the near distance.  I ask the checkout clerk for the nearest liquor store and she looks baffled.  Clearly she has never driven 900 miles in an RV with three kids.  No worry.  I'll find one.  It's one of my superpowers.

Our steadfast GPS guides us smoothly toward our destination.  He is confident.  He is reassuring.  He is wrong.  We pull up the street our campground is supposed to be on and it turns out to be a tiny dead end.  The children fall silent.  We all come to know at the same time:  we will have to back out.  But we are not just backing out onto a quiet street.  It's a two-lane, very busy street at rush hour, and did I mention it's on a curve?  Well, there's only one thing left to do.  I get out and try to stop traffic with my bare hands.  This is not one of my superpowers.  After jumping back to the curb and out of the way of speeding cars, one finally stops.  I wave and grin like an idiot as Rob backs this crazy 32 foot behemoth out.  Cars coming from the other direction stop, and onlookers get in on it, as well.  I can practically hear the sweat dripping from my brave husband's head.  When we finally get into our lane and on our way, there is much horn beeping and waving from our 'helpers'.  What can we say?  We like to spread good will.

We do pass a wine store on our way to the campground, but by now, we just want to get there and get out of this crazy vehicle before we cause anymore trouble.  At any rate, I feel wine may not be strong enough tonight.  We check in and are given our WiFi passwords, which Rob and I immediately dismiss.  One hasn't worked yet.  Here's what our site looks like:

Pretty nice, huh?

We all hop out and set up camp, a well-oiled machine now.  The kids retrieve items from under the RV.  I set up the kitchen and bathroom.  Rob hooks us up and starts a fire.  Once we are settled, I make a nice cold gin and lime and Rob cracks open a beer.  He chats up the German couple next to us while I make sausage and peppers on my little stove.  We try to eat dinner at the picnic table, but for the first time in our trip, we encounter mosquitos and so we retreat indoors.  However, after dinner, it's time for s'mores and there is no mosquito big enough to keep Charlie from that kind of gooey goodness.  At least by the fire, they don't really bother you.  Also, I found this amazing natural repellent that smells like vanilla and citrus.  It's called Skeedattle and you can get it on Amazon.  And no, I don't get anything for saying that.  Just wanted to share.

Magic campfire.

Well, tomorrow we are going to explore Halifax and the Citadel.  And this guy:

He really seems to love his job...