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