Single Step

I don’t know about you but when it’s hot, my energy seems to evaporate and so I have not written. Until today, that is and it’s still hot – even hotter I think, but I couldn’t let another day go by without checking in with you.

Last Saturday we left Saint John, New Brunswick and made our way mostly south and a little bit west to Freeport, Maine. I know it sounds cheesy but I can’t get enough of that LL Bean. Their flagship store is there along with a number of other well know retail establishments, of which I did not darken the door. We spent a couple of hours hangin’ with the Bean and I managed to find stuff I like and stuff that fit me. As a bonus feature, we also found a few replacement items for my man: shorts and jeans. I have been throwing out clothes as I go. The good thing about me (smiling here) is that I tend to wear my clothes out. A friend of mine only goes clothes shopping once a year and buys all she needs then. That sounded like a great idea so that’s exactly what I did. I highly recommend this strategy.

Needless to say, the only photos I took of Maine are of the store. Amanda will be most disappointed in me.

Next day we headed for Boston, crossing two state lines and braving city traffic Gord managed to find an apartment for a real steal in a quiet neighbourhood close to all the action. That’s where we bunked two nights while we walked our feet off exploring this historical beauty. I hardly know where to begin when describing the city.

As for Boston’s claims to fame, and there are many: the infamous Boston Tea Party and start of the American Revolution, site of Harvard and Cambridge Universities, home of John F. Kennedy, site of Boston Marathon, home to the Red Sox, Celtics, and Patriots as well as the swan boats of the Boston Commons (I was pretty excited about that one!) and inspiration for Robert McCloskey’s children’s book, Make Way for Ducklings. These are some of the sites we saw.

Today we drove mostly west from Boston to Intercourse, Pennsylvania and through New York without stopping. We were sure Jane was trying to take revenge for all Gord’s nasty comments to her over these past two months when she directed us along the Atlantic coast and into Yonkers then the Bronx. Thankfully, she redirected us over the George Washington Bridge and into New Jersey before we found ourselves stranded on a one way street amidst shaking fists and colourful taxi-driver metaphors at the cornerstone of the Empire State Building. Our view of that towering structure was (safely) from the Jersey side. We crossed 5 state lines in as many hours before we reached our destination.

Apparently, Intercourse was renamed in 1814. Its previous name was Cross Keys, named for an old tavern. The original village was founded in 1754 so it’s been around awhile. Three popular explanations are touted for the change: 1.) it was the name of a racetrack called “Entercourse” and the name evolved over time, 2.) the site was a crossroads of the King’s Highway and Delaware Highway 3.) its meaning came from the filial fellowship the people in the area experienced with one another as they worked and socialized together.

Whatever the reason, it’s located in Lancaster County and boasts the oldest Amish community in the US. My heritage is Mennonite and so my interest in all things Anabaptist is personal. It was news to me that our last name, Smoker, is a common Amish name and so when I reserved our campsite under our surname, the owner didn’t even blink – and that’s unusual.

As you likely know, the Amish and Mennonite women are renowned for their quilting, and that’s another very good reason to make Intercourse a stop. You can imagine where we spent the later part of the day, can’t you? In a quilt store, just in case you need clarification. It stands to reason that our little grandbaby will be well supplied with adorable homemade flannel receiving blankets as a direct result of our visit.

My entry today is entirely focused on family. That’s because we have three special events in three days.

Happy 87th birthday, Dad Smoker! We hope your day is wonderful and you stay cool while indulging in cake, phone calls from loved ones and maybe even eating your famous homemade soup – though you may want to experiment with a chilled cucumber soup on this summer day. We send lots of love and look forward to a special birthday dinner when we get back.

Happy 1st Anniversary, Brendan and Andrea! We are remembering the lovely day we spent in Summerland last year at this time witnessing your vows and celebrating with you! We hope you are having a great time in the Okanagan, swimming and enjoying the break from work-filled lives back home. We love you and continue to pray for a marriage of true joy and delight for you.

Happy Birthday, Dad Bakes! We hope this day is filled with all the things you love to do best. We wish you happiness and sunshine on your special day and a lovely time with the people you love best. Sending love and hugs your way on your day.

From the city of Boston, we toast you all!

Two months ago today we boarded the BC ferry from Duke Point to Tsawwassen and made our way east in order to explore this magnificent country of ours. 12,500 km later we turn our eyes and Stella’s nose west having completed our goal of touching the Atlantic the same way we did the Pacific months ago at the beginning of things. I would love to wax eloquent about our trip thus far, offering bits of wisdom or poignant illuminations, sharing what has inspired or sickened us and then vividly articulate what it all means. Sorry to disappoint but it’s too soon; I will need time to process and reflect.

Let me say, however, that we feel changed: the way we listen to national news, our political views and interest on federal land issues, on provincial and national park issues, to name a few.

People ask us about the highlights. It’s so difficult to say when every day brings something new and unexpected. Some days it’s the people we meet, on others it’s the landscape or food or a bit of intriguing information.

How can we really say?

We do know this. Our nation is worth fighting for and so we honour those who have. Our nation possesses grandness and beauty beyond our imagination and we applaud those who are dedicated to restoring and preserving her. Our nation has a great responsibility to the global community and we acknowledge those who work hard to ensure that continues.

We are ever more aware that we have a share in these things too.

The south coast of Nova Scotia is the most “driven on” ocean-lined land of the Maritime Provinces, apparently, and it’s easy to see why. Quaint fishing villages, including Peggy’s Cove, beckon visitors to come explore artisan wares, lighthouses and the untamable North Atlantic. In one such village lives an art quilter named Laurie Swim. I don’t feel right about drawing attention to her unusual last name, appropriate since her family fished these waters at one time, and especially given that my surname invites wise cracks on a regular basis.

Back to Laurie. We stumbled upon her studio in Lunenburg not far from Peggy’s Cove. There are a number of quilters in the area but the magnetic draw to Laurie’s work is how she quilts and where. Her thread painting technique, by which the thread and stitches add texture, creates fabric landscapes from her sketches. A holograph image of her son infused within the belly of a fabric fish, reflections on the surface of the sea and leaves rustling in the salt air. We parted ways agreeing to pursue a means by which she might come to our Island and teach me and others something of her quilt art world. Check her out at www.laurieswim.com

Next we headed for Digby, which is known as the Scallop Capital of the World. We truly have had our fill of seafood and Digby’s sautéed scallops over a bed of spinach helped me put to rest my crustacean cravings.

The three hour ferry ride took us from Digby to New Brunswick’s shore side city of Saint John. The fog hung thick and we could hardly see one another or Saint John for that matter so we drove north to Fredericton, tried to visit the House of Legislature but it was closed to visitors. Our new friends, John and Anna, encouraged us to visit as many as we could and it’s been great fun comparing the provincial capitals. We managed a tour of the Christ Church Cathedral, with its glittering stained glass and BC Douglas Fir ceiling. Late afternoon we drove back south and enjoyed the cool of the sea air upon our approach to Saint John. Indian food for dinner, laundry, internet and to bed.

There are a few incidents in our history where large numbers of people faced public humiliation, were forced from their homes, and treated with more contempt than the common rat. The Acadians are one such group. They came from the Loire Valley in France to “pastoral paradise” or Arcadia in the land that was to be named Nova Scotia (Latin for New Scotland). Theirs was a largely agrarian society with strong ties to the Catholic Church and did I mention they were French? The King of England demanded signed allegiance from them when Nova Scotia came under British rule at the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht. Long story short, the Acadians stalled, England felt its suspicions justified, the Acadians acquiesced too late, the English forced 14,000 aboard ships and launched them into who knew where. Many ships sunk, entire families perished and the rest landed on foreign shores among unwelcoming strangers.

Some settled in the US south and are ancestors to present day Cajuns. Some landed in the Caribbean, the Dominican Republic or France. Others found homes in the coastal Maritimes or hid out until the wind of political climate changed, which it eventually did. When the Acadians were invited to resettle on Canadian soil, they came home to find someone had been sleeping in their bed. Most of the farming land that they had previously owned no longer belonged to them so they opted for a livelihood of fishing and settled along the shores of Cape Breton Island, the French Shore of Newfoundland, the east coast of New Brunswick and various parts of Nova Scotia. Today about 18% of the Maritime population is Acadian although few speak French.

Of those who remain, a proud Acadian heritage is evident. It seems they identify themselves by displaying a large brass star on the front face or side of their homes and by flying an Acadian flag.

I have wished to meet an Acadian, to express my regrets, and to say what it means to me that their forefathers and mothers returned, stuck it out and continue to have a place in the mosaic of our Canadian landscape. I wish to convey my convictions around the celebration of cultural diversity and the tremendous opportunity we Canadians have to live differently without fracturing community. I wish I could say all that to my fellow Canadian Acadian and have it really mean something.

“To be of a peaceable spirit brings peace along with it.” Thomas Watson

If you visit a national park in Canada you are required to buy a park permit. At the same time we bought ours, we purchased a National Historic Site Pass which has paid for itself many times over. It came as a surprise to me that I would be flashing that card with frequency on Cape Breton Island. Within a three hour drive we were able to take in two of these worthy sites: Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site and Louisbourg National Historic Site.

In my humble opinion, there should be a third site designed as nationally historic within the same geographic area. Glace Bay is home to the Cape Breton Miner’s Museum, where a retired miner led us through a retired coalmine and helped us imagine and appreciate the significance of coal in Canada’s early days.

The first site we visited was hometown to the inventor of the telephone. Alec Bell made notoriety first by continuing where his father left off with developing and implementing Visible Language. The Bell patriarch deciphered positions of the organs of the mouth in order to aid deaf students in creating sound based on those positions rather than on auditory recognition. Alec took the written code and applied it to hand-to-hand communication with such students as Helen Keller and Mabel Hubbard, the latter of whom became his wife. The story of his life as well as the remarkable woman he married are presented in an interactive display along with his hundreds of other inventions. He was a Renaissance man in the truest sense.

In the afternoon, we made our way along the coast to the Gaelic hamlet of Glace Bay where coal mining was once a booming industry right alongside cod fishing. I was the only one of 15 tourists to stand tall in the timbered mines as we made our way along the dank corridors trying to conjure up images of horses, canaries and men working 12 hour shifts, 6 miles out under the Atlantic Ocean floor.

When mines on Cape Breton closed in the 1960’s, thousands face unemployment. The population dropped from 12,000 to the mere hundreds and that’s when a forward-thinking miner took his proposal to the federal government. He solicited an original idea by which miners would be hired to learn a new trade and reconstruct the French fort of Louisbourg on the Island’s eastern shore. Not only did the proposal gain favour and miners find retraining and employment, the site now attracts thousands of visitors every summer. Local children can attend a working type camp at the fort, dress in period costume and experience 17^th century history first-hand. If you are in the area, be sure to stop in.

You may have noticed that I did not make reference to Canada Day in my posts. Here we are on a trip across our glorious homeland and not one mention of her birthday. How could I be so remiss?

I could tell you that every day is Canada day to us, which it is.

I could recall for you the coinciding events that miraculously led to confederation, and they are.

I could regale you with colourful and dramatic narrative of heroes, rogues, explorers and statesmen who lent themselves to the great history of this land, and there are many.

But I will tell you the truth. I forgot.

It was a long driving day to Port-Aux-Basque where we planned to catch the morning ferry to Nova Scotia. The campsite owner encouraged us to take in the festivities (live music and fireworks) in this tiny outport so off we went. Live music consisted of the village children taking turns at karaoke in the bandstand, which was quite delightful and reminded me of homeschool concerts in days gone by. The fireworks were too late for us so we headed back to our site and slept the rest of Canada Day away.

I hope you know that my love for land and country is felt no less because of my oversight.

We wish you Happy belated Birthday, Canada!

Today I met Julie. She is a Montreal native who is cycling to L’Anse Aux Meadows, which you will remember is at the northern most tip of Newfoundland. Then she plans to ship her bike home from there and hike to Maine. If you think that is amazing, and it is, wait.

Julie’s first long range cycling tour took her from Seattle to Montreal in 4 months, zigzagging as far south as LA and as far north as Jasper. Her employment with a Seattle-based corporation came to a decided end when she realized there were things she wanted to accomplish and places she needed to see. Julie packed her bike at 1 a.m. on the day of her departure and never looked back.

This time around, things are a little different. She has a plan: to cycle to St. Anthony and lay claim to the title of being the first person to hike the newly developed Appalachian Trail from, you guessed it, Newfoundland to Maine. Her trek has a formal component: to log the journey for the purpose of writing a guide book. She has a sponsor (or two): a Quebec based clothing company plus a freeze-dried food company. She is well-prepared: her bike weighs a mere 90 lbs. compared to 150 lbs last time around. She sets limits: Julie rides about 150 km a day starting at sunrise and packing it in at about 2 p.m. We asked her about close calls and she indicated that she would rather be slow than sorry.

I try not to let my amazement overwhelm her, but it takes effort and I wonder how such an idea came to this remarkable young woman and what it was that gave her the courage to take the first step. What seems impossible to me is quite possible and even probable to her. What a wonder!

Julie, thank you for inspiring us and so many others. We pray you will know only prevailing tail winds and, of course, safe passage.

It is a village of sorts with no streets, or electricity, or running water. The way in and out is by boat and that only when the icy bay thaws and flows with summer’s heat. Three or four spindly black spruce shelters stand next to one another and daylight and salt air seep through the cracks. Every morning the chinks are re-stuffed with moss that has blown away in the night. The sod roofs provide surprising warmth and protection against the persistent wind of the Atlantic. There is the thick odour of urine in the air from the sheep that are kept hemmed in by a twisted twig fence and shelter in a similar structure to the folks who live here on what the sea and land provides.

This is Random Passage. Author Bernice Morgan weaves a tale that captures early settlement life as it takes place in an outpost on the island’s rocky shores. The novel is internationally acclaimed and has been made into a TV mini-series. Every child who has gone through the Newfoundland school system in the past 8 years knows the story well. Trinity Bight is just north of St. John’s and home to 12 small coastal communities; one such community is Bonaventure and host to the set used in the film. We visited there, enjoyed our lively tour guide and his storytelling as well as the stunning scenery. The novel itself is rich in history, language, and intrigue, just the thing if one wants to truly immerse oneself in old Newfoundland. I picked up a copy and cannot put it down.

As random passages go, we began our journey west today.