Land's end in the Bay of Fundy
Tiny Brier Island a major stopover for migrating seabirds, shorebirds, waterfowl and hawks
By Dave Cooper, The Edmonton JournalJanuary 13, 2009
The fog is thick and the winds are brisk, not a great day for whale watching. But here I am clutching the damp rail of a temporarily converted lobster boat as it plows through two-metre swells. Suddenly, skipper Roy Graham shuts off the big diesel for a few minutes.
"Just listen," says guide Penny Graham. "We can't see them, but we might hear them and get closer."
A dozen pair of ears tune in for the whoosh of a humpback blowing, or exhaling, as it breaks the surface. Since whales will often move in one direction, we could follow and hopefully get close enough to see something through the fog. But the wind drowns out any whales that might be in this prime area off Brier Island, reputed as the best place to see them in the Maritimes.
It's not great today. When there's fog and no wind you can hear the humpbacks. The wind is not a problem when you can see the giants breach.
But we were warned. Roy and Penny have been doing this longer than most, filling in time between lobster seasons by taking out whale-watchers. There are now more than a dozen firms from the city of Digby right out along the spectacular 73-kilometre spit called the Digby Neck to Long Island and Brier Island.
Two hours earlier, Penny had stood on deck and described the weather as marginal. We were told we'd be lucky to see anything, but since many folks just had the one day on the island, it was a four-and-a-half hour boat ride now, or try again tomorrow.
And the forecast for tomorrow was more of the same.
"Anyone want to get off now? Once the boat leaves the dock, we're not turning back," said Penny.
After a few hours on the heaving sea, a few green-faced landlubbers had wished they'd taken that advice.
As the wind picked up, many hoped the fog would blow off. Penny laughed. "Nope, this is a soueaster." Translation: The wind was just bringing in more fog from the Atlantic, which seems to have limitless fog to share with Nova Scotia.
Penny scanned the sea for "fluke prints," areas of foam where a whale has smashed its tail into to sea. Nothing.
She inhaled deeply. "I smell them." The boat stopped again. "When they're feeding you can't miss that smell."
The distinctive odour of herring is often a great way to track the whales, But alas, not today. On we went through the fog, hoping that something would pop up within 50 metres of the boat.
And suddenly, something did. "There," she yelled. Everyone bolted for the rail to see what looked like a giant porpoise arc through the sea on a parallel course.
"It's just a minke."
The smaller whale doesn't have the reputation for playfulness of the humpback, but on a day like this any whale will do.
The sleek, dark back and dorsal fin appeared a couple more times, and then so did an orange zodiac craft. "That's Tiverton. They've come to see our whale. Nobody is seeing anything today," said Penny.
As we docked at Brier Island, Penny handed everyone a complementary pass. "Sorry about today. Come back and ride for free next time."
At the end of a spectacular formation of volcanic rock, Brier looks out into the Bay of Fundy with a rugged face of 40-metre cliffs that reminds many of the Giants Causeway in Ireland. On neighbouring Long Island, a popular stopping spot is Balancing Rock, a sliver of basalt that seems to stand alone.
Brier's southern point trails off into the sea, leaving the bar of Green Island and Gull Rock, a graveyard for unfortunate ships caught in the powerful tides of Fundy and St. Mary's Bay.
Losses were so great that the first lighthouse was erected in 1809, with two more in later decades. The locals were not above scavenging materials from wrecks. A lumber ship that was smashed on the rocks in 1908 yielded enough wood to build the community hall.
At just five kilometres long, Brier is a tiny island rich in history. Three hours from the U.S., it was a major rum-running base during Prohibition. Special low-profile, fast boats were built on the island to evade the authorities. (During a Nova Scotia liquor strike, the flow was reversed, admits one resident. "We loaded up in Maine.")
In the mid-1800s, the village of Westport was a major port for the trade of salted cod to the Caribbean, bringing back molasses and rum which were then taken to England.
The seafaring roots run deep. The village was the boyhood home of Joshua Slocum, who sailed alone around the world in his 37-foot sloop the Spray between 1895 and 1898, a feat until then thought impossible.
Once home to a fleet of sailing vessels, the harbour today is the base for an important lobster fishery from November through April. But you won't find lobster on the menu at Lavena's Catch Cafe, a quaint spot near the ferry ramp in Freeport, a few minutes across Grand Passage from Brier.
Judged one of the best places to eat in Nova Scotia, it's also inexpensive and a hit with locals and tourists. The haddock and scallops are locally caught and fresh each day.
Our bed-and-breakfast in a restored 1830 home was just a short walk to the ferry, which runs hourly.
On the other end, our server advised us it would be leaving right on time. "Well, my stepfather is the captain."
Because of its location on the Atlantic Flyway and at the gateway to the Bay of Fundy, and the great tides which have created a rich ecosystem, Brier is a major stopover for migrating seabirds, shorebirds, waterfowl and hawks. The Big Pond lowlands and Whipple Point are protected areas.
While the whole Digby Neck is spectacular, it is not beach country -- with one exception. At the hamlet of Sandy Cove, a short unmarked road leads to the secluded Sandy Cove Beach, a popular place in the summer when the sun is shining and the water temperature tolerable. That wasn't the case in late September.
We found several spectacular white sand beaches west of Halifax on the southwest coast. But the water temperature was a chilly 10C.
IF YOU GO:
- FLIGHTS: WestJet and Air Canada offer daily direct flights to Halifax. Digby is 235-kilometre drive through the beautiful Annapolis Valley. Digby Neck is a narrow ribbon of land between the Bay of Fundy and St. Mary's Bay. There is a two-minute ferry across Petite Passage to Long Island, and a five minute ferry from the end of Long Island to Brier Island. ($4 per car for each ferry. No charge for return trip.)
- Accommodation: Bay of Fundy Inn, a restored 1830 home now run as a bed-and-breakfast. $75 night for two. (1-800-239-2189). Owners also run Mariner Cruises Whale and Seabird Tours. A tour of up to five hours on the water costs about $48 per person, $40 for seniors and students, $26 for children. Website: www.novascotiawhalewatching.ca
- There is also a lodge, hostel and motel on Brier, as well as other whale watching firms. Order the free Doer's and Dreamers' guide from the province.
Website: www.novascotia.com
- The Grahams say around Brier Island, finback whales, minke whales and harbour porpoises are the first to arrive in the spring. In June, the humpbacks begin to return; by late June they are abundant, and white-sided dolphins are often seen. By mid-July all five species are commonly sighted and usually remain until late fall.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Ah...Good Nova Scotian Fish Products-in Maine
Sullivan Harbor Farms Overview
When Joel Frantzman decided to produce the best smoked fish, he attended a preeminent smoking course in Aberdeen, Scotland. He visited a number of small, high-end Scottish smoke houses that produce the best smoked salmon and other fish. He then returned home to Hancock Village, Maine, armed with the knowledge and determination to make his mark on the smoked fish marketplace. He has succeeded!
Smoking fish and seafood in small batches, using old world methods and “fanatical attention to detail,” Sullivan Harbor Farms sells superior smoked fish products. It’s not just because the smoked salmon is special (it’s lovely with a deeper smoke than most), because one can usually find a decent supply of that popular food in major cities.
It’s the other treats, including smoked shrimp and smoked scallops, that add up to major excitement for food lovers seeking new flavors and experiences. The seafood are dry cured and smoked in small kilns with natural hardwood smoke in a state-of-the-art facility. Time-honored techniques meet the best in modern equipment, and you’ll taste it!
Scallops and shrimp are refrigerator-packed with a shelf life of two weeks. Photo by Evan Dempsey | THE NIBBLE.
The day boat scallops come from Digby Neck in Nova Scotia, Canada, and the small, sweet shrimp from the Gulf of Maine. All of the salmon comes from Ocean Legacy, a small salmon farm in the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia. Clear bay water propelled by 25 foot tides sluice through the salmon pens, enabling the growth of muscular fish without the need for hormones. Low fish density (uncrowded pens) mean no antibiotics. The result: healthy fish particularly high in Omega 3s.
Locally farmed salmon were once Maine’s top seafood export after lobster. The cost of environmental monitoring and other issues caused the industry to decline over the past decade. But a handful of artisan seafood smokehouses exist, and are now getting farmed Atlantic salmon from Maine’s neighbor to the northeast, Nova Scotia.
When Joel Frantzman decided to produce the best smoked fish, he attended a preeminent smoking course in Aberdeen, Scotland. He visited a number of small, high-end Scottish smoke houses that produce the best smoked salmon and other fish. He then returned home to Hancock Village, Maine, armed with the knowledge and determination to make his mark on the smoked fish marketplace. He has succeeded!
Smoking fish and seafood in small batches, using old world methods and “fanatical attention to detail,” Sullivan Harbor Farms sells superior smoked fish products. It’s not just because the smoked salmon is special (it’s lovely with a deeper smoke than most), because one can usually find a decent supply of that popular food in major cities.
It’s the other treats, including smoked shrimp and smoked scallops, that add up to major excitement for food lovers seeking new flavors and experiences. The seafood are dry cured and smoked in small kilns with natural hardwood smoke in a state-of-the-art facility. Time-honored techniques meet the best in modern equipment, and you’ll taste it!
Scallops and shrimp are refrigerator-packed with a shelf life of two weeks. Photo by Evan Dempsey | THE NIBBLE.
The day boat scallops come from Digby Neck in Nova Scotia, Canada, and the small, sweet shrimp from the Gulf of Maine. All of the salmon comes from Ocean Legacy, a small salmon farm in the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia. Clear bay water propelled by 25 foot tides sluice through the salmon pens, enabling the growth of muscular fish without the need for hormones. Low fish density (uncrowded pens) mean no antibiotics. The result: healthy fish particularly high in Omega 3s.
Locally farmed salmon were once Maine’s top seafood export after lobster. The cost of environmental monitoring and other issues caused the industry to decline over the past decade. But a handful of artisan seafood smokehouses exist, and are now getting farmed Atlantic salmon from Maine’s neighbor to the northeast, Nova Scotia.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Nova Scotia has Roseate Terns
Roseate tern decline perplexes researchers
Photos
The roseate tern is considered a federally endangered species.
By Rich Eldred
The Cape Codder
Posted Feb 22, 2010 @ 06:14 AM
CAPE COD —
Piping plovers get all the publicity but Cape Cod’s shoreline is even more important to the federally endangered roseate tern. Perhaps the terns need a new agent.
“Almost all the North American roseate tern population spends a couple of months on Cape Cod and the Islands at a handful of these important sites,” observed Becky Harris, director of Mass Audubon’s Coastal Waterbird Program at Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary in Barnstable.
Harris has been directing at three-year $70,000 project monitoring roseate terns through the summers on the Cape.
“Roseate terns are at the highest level of endangerment and there’s been about a 30 percent decline in population the last 10 years and people don’t know why,” she said. “If we can figure out what’s happening during this period of decline, that’s our ultimate goal.”
The population peaked at 4,310 pairs in North America in 2000 and fell to 3,320 by 2006. Harris employs a field staff of seven, scattered over the Cape and Islands, to monitor the terns.
The birds are feeding and hanging out (staging). Roseate terns breed primarily in Buzzards Bay on Bird Island (in Marion), Ram Island (Mattapoisett) and Penikese Island. It’s estimated 1,100 pairs breed on Bird Island and 450 plus on Ram’s, about half the total Northeastern population. Another 1,250 or so pairs nest on Great Gull Island off Long Island, N.Y. They generally nest alongside larger colonies of common terns and prefer islands to avoid predators such as coyotes, raccoons and skunks. Their summertime concentration around Cape Cod, however, makes them vulnerable to events such as Hurricane Bob.
Once the chicks can fly they depart the island, usually in late July, and like any other tourist, visit Cape Cod.
“They show up first in Falmouth, at Black Beach-Sippewissett Marsh, then spread out to Outer Cape sites through September,” Harris explained. “Plymouth Beach is a regular spot, Chapin Beach and off Crowes Pasture in Dennis (is another). The most heavily used area was Nauset Marsh, Coast Guard Beach and Hatches Harbor. There were up to 15,000 to 20,000 total terns, including common terns. Wood End (in Provincetown) was used spottily.”
They still can’t feed themselves so the adults forage and bring back fish, usually sand lances, for the chicks.
The task of the field researchers was to sift through massive tern flocks and count and identify the roseate terns via their leg bands. Needless to say, that required sharp vital eyes and a powerful scope.
“We had old scopes that weren’t up to the job,” Harris conceded. “We ended up getting really good Zeiss 80 power scopes. Zeiss helped out with the scopes.”
Identifying the birds isn’t easy. Researchers spend six to eight hours a day staring through the scope, waiting for the birds to flash a leg and give them a good view.
“Sometimes up to two-thirds of them in a flock are roseate terns, maybe 1,500 to 2,000 are banded. So you can get a lot of observations staring through a flock. It takes a lot of practice,” Harris said. “You can get exhausted by the end of the day but I certainly miss it.”
Chicks are banded after they hatch, adults at different migratory sites.
“There are six different colored bands on the adults and you can identify who the individual is,” Harris said. “They also identify as many fledglings as they can. They have only metal bands. If you can get close enough with the scope and have good focus, you can read their numbers.”
The numbers are like a zip code.
“If you can read the sequence, you can see a bird came from, say, Great Gull Island, N.Y.,” Harris explained. “We have identified a fledgling from every breeding colony in the Northeast where more than five chicks were banded. We’ve identified 15 to 20 percent of all the chicks banded this year. So we can pretty much confirm they are all coming here.”
Harris was especially impressed that birds from Connecticut and New York fly north to the Cape before flying south for the winter.
All told, 2,722 chicks were banded in 2009, and 413 were confirmed visiting the Cape, representing 11 colonies from Nova Scotia (in which case 13 of 14 banded birds showed up) to New York.
“We can’t identify every chick because the bands have to be read at a distance,” Harris conceded. “As far as the adults, the color banding has been going on for five years, and at the Buzzards Bay colony nearly 2,100 adults (75 percent) have been banded. That gives us a chance to learn about their movements.”
One thing noticed was that birds spent several days on a beach, disappeared for several more, then returned. A handful of roseate terns have been tagged with geo-locaters and those birds have flown as far as Bermuda, most likely foraging, before returning to Cape Cod.
“We’re thinking there may be more pelagic birds than we’re seeing,” Harris said. “It’s a hard thing to figure out where they are.”
The chicks also don’t return the next summer.
“Banding enabled people to tell that chicks raised here, took two to three years before returning to breed and the return rate was low. So something is happening between South America and here. They’re not coming back in high enough numbers to keep the population growing,” Harris said.
The terns winter in Brazil and Argentina and little research has been done there.
Another observation was that the males did most of the feeding, which could lead to greater mortality as they foraged.
“They are expending a lot more energy feeding the chicks,” Harris said.
Photos
The roseate tern is considered a federally endangered species.
By Rich Eldred
The Cape Codder
Posted Feb 22, 2010 @ 06:14 AM
CAPE COD —
Piping plovers get all the publicity but Cape Cod’s shoreline is even more important to the federally endangered roseate tern. Perhaps the terns need a new agent.
“Almost all the North American roseate tern population spends a couple of months on Cape Cod and the Islands at a handful of these important sites,” observed Becky Harris, director of Mass Audubon’s Coastal Waterbird Program at Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary in Barnstable.
Harris has been directing at three-year $70,000 project monitoring roseate terns through the summers on the Cape.
“Roseate terns are at the highest level of endangerment and there’s been about a 30 percent decline in population the last 10 years and people don’t know why,” she said. “If we can figure out what’s happening during this period of decline, that’s our ultimate goal.”
The population peaked at 4,310 pairs in North America in 2000 and fell to 3,320 by 2006. Harris employs a field staff of seven, scattered over the Cape and Islands, to monitor the terns.
The birds are feeding and hanging out (staging). Roseate terns breed primarily in Buzzards Bay on Bird Island (in Marion), Ram Island (Mattapoisett) and Penikese Island. It’s estimated 1,100 pairs breed on Bird Island and 450 plus on Ram’s, about half the total Northeastern population. Another 1,250 or so pairs nest on Great Gull Island off Long Island, N.Y. They generally nest alongside larger colonies of common terns and prefer islands to avoid predators such as coyotes, raccoons and skunks. Their summertime concentration around Cape Cod, however, makes them vulnerable to events such as Hurricane Bob.
Once the chicks can fly they depart the island, usually in late July, and like any other tourist, visit Cape Cod.
“They show up first in Falmouth, at Black Beach-Sippewissett Marsh, then spread out to Outer Cape sites through September,” Harris explained. “Plymouth Beach is a regular spot, Chapin Beach and off Crowes Pasture in Dennis (is another). The most heavily used area was Nauset Marsh, Coast Guard Beach and Hatches Harbor. There were up to 15,000 to 20,000 total terns, including common terns. Wood End (in Provincetown) was used spottily.”
They still can’t feed themselves so the adults forage and bring back fish, usually sand lances, for the chicks.
The task of the field researchers was to sift through massive tern flocks and count and identify the roseate terns via their leg bands. Needless to say, that required sharp vital eyes and a powerful scope.
“We had old scopes that weren’t up to the job,” Harris conceded. “We ended up getting really good Zeiss 80 power scopes. Zeiss helped out with the scopes.”
Identifying the birds isn’t easy. Researchers spend six to eight hours a day staring through the scope, waiting for the birds to flash a leg and give them a good view.
“Sometimes up to two-thirds of them in a flock are roseate terns, maybe 1,500 to 2,000 are banded. So you can get a lot of observations staring through a flock. It takes a lot of practice,” Harris said. “You can get exhausted by the end of the day but I certainly miss it.”
Chicks are banded after they hatch, adults at different migratory sites.
“There are six different colored bands on the adults and you can identify who the individual is,” Harris said. “They also identify as many fledglings as they can. They have only metal bands. If you can get close enough with the scope and have good focus, you can read their numbers.”
The numbers are like a zip code.
“If you can read the sequence, you can see a bird came from, say, Great Gull Island, N.Y.,” Harris explained. “We have identified a fledgling from every breeding colony in the Northeast where more than five chicks were banded. We’ve identified 15 to 20 percent of all the chicks banded this year. So we can pretty much confirm they are all coming here.”
Harris was especially impressed that birds from Connecticut and New York fly north to the Cape before flying south for the winter.
All told, 2,722 chicks were banded in 2009, and 413 were confirmed visiting the Cape, representing 11 colonies from Nova Scotia (in which case 13 of 14 banded birds showed up) to New York.
“We can’t identify every chick because the bands have to be read at a distance,” Harris conceded. “As far as the adults, the color banding has been going on for five years, and at the Buzzards Bay colony nearly 2,100 adults (75 percent) have been banded. That gives us a chance to learn about their movements.”
One thing noticed was that birds spent several days on a beach, disappeared for several more, then returned. A handful of roseate terns have been tagged with geo-locaters and those birds have flown as far as Bermuda, most likely foraging, before returning to Cape Cod.
“We’re thinking there may be more pelagic birds than we’re seeing,” Harris said. “It’s a hard thing to figure out where they are.”
The chicks also don’t return the next summer.
“Banding enabled people to tell that chicks raised here, took two to three years before returning to breed and the return rate was low. So something is happening between South America and here. They’re not coming back in high enough numbers to keep the population growing,” Harris said.
The terns winter in Brazil and Argentina and little research has been done there.
Another observation was that the males did most of the feeding, which could lead to greater mortality as they foraged.
“They are expending a lot more energy feeding the chicks,” Harris said.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Somebody Else Loves Canada and Digby Neck
This is by somebody who lives in Louisiana, who has a website at: butterbeansblues.com
Canadian at Heart
The far away softness of a morning train whistle intruded into my dream, faint but persistent, like a memory just out of reach and still out of focus. The curtains fluttered in the early ocean breeze and I could hear seagulls arguing over scraps, the throaty hum of a boat engine leaving the breakwater, and the steady rhythm of an axe splitting firewood. These were the sounds of summer, of home and growing up, of comfort in knowing where I was and belonging.
Outside the small motel cabin, the sun was breaking through and burning off the fog, revealing a bright blue sky littered with hazy clouds. I imagined I could feel the day beginning to warm, nearly sense the dew evaporating on the grass and the chilly ground heating up. The train whistle sounded again, closer this time, and from the other side of the trees I could just make out the silhouette of a locomotive as it slowly wound its way from The Valley, keeping to its schedule as it always had. You could plan a life around the Canadian Pacific, my grandmother had often told me, And you'd never be late.
It was late August and there hadn't been much traffic on the road from Yarmouth. The familiar villages were now behind me - Church Point, Bear River, Weymouth - I had taken my time driving, having no particular timetable to keep to and suspecting that it might be years if not a lifetime before I would find myself on these roads again. I had breakfast in Digby, watching the scallop boats come and go with the tides, then slowly headed down Highway 217, "The Digby Neck" as it was commonly known. I was thinking of how many times I had made this trip, through Gulliver's Cove and Little River, and Sandy Cove and finally to the extraordinary hairpin turn at East Ferry, where the road unexpectedly ended at the very edge of the ocean and more than one carelessly overconfident driver had plunged over the guard rail and been taken by an unforgiving tide. After one particularly spectacular night time crash, I remembered Uncle Shad telling Nana that it was a miracle anyone ever survived - Them whats lived to tell the tale, don't, he said grimly, It'd be temptin' fate to brag and it don't make no sense to try and outrun your own timetable.
Across the passage, Tiverton sat in the afternoon sun, a picture postcard of a tiny fishing village. Bait shacks lined the coastline and a dozen or so dories rocked on the whitecaps. A Nova Scotian flag waved from the old post office building and a small circle of old men mended nets on the end of the wharf. After Tiverton, there would be Central Grove at the halfway mark, two or three houses and a lily pond and you were past it, and then I would be on the top of the hill that overlooked Freeport - green and blue and sparkling from the square to The Point - a picture I can still see if I close my eyes and wish hard enough. The small white church on the left, just below the cemetery, the cove at high tide, Curt's candy store by the schoolhouse, the baseball field. The road stretched out like a shimmering ribbon, down for a ways, then flat for a ways - past McIntyre's and the dance hall, past where the post office used to be, then gradually rising up toward the sun and around a gentle, downward curve to where I could see the Sullivan's house and the remains of Willie Foot's, Uncle Len's pale green gingerbreaded one, and at the very foot of the hill, down a steep gravel driveway with a strawberry field on one side, what was once Nana's beloved summer house. It sat, almost untouched by time, just as I remembered, overgrown with high grass except for the shortcut path which led from the top of the driveway to the front road. Knowing that a new generation of villagers still cut through to save the long hike around the curve made me glad - Nana had always fussed about this minor trespassing but never with much conviction or heart. John Sullivan's boat was gone, replaced with a shiny aluminum storage shed, strangely out of place in the weeds and debris. There was not a remnant of the canteen and the ferry slip looked to be new. Sparrow's old house still stood but appeared empty and badly neglected while wildflowers grew in place of Old Hat's chicken wired garden.
Despite my citizenship, I will always be a Canadian in my heart.
Canadian at Heart
The far away softness of a morning train whistle intruded into my dream, faint but persistent, like a memory just out of reach and still out of focus. The curtains fluttered in the early ocean breeze and I could hear seagulls arguing over scraps, the throaty hum of a boat engine leaving the breakwater, and the steady rhythm of an axe splitting firewood. These were the sounds of summer, of home and growing up, of comfort in knowing where I was and belonging.
Outside the small motel cabin, the sun was breaking through and burning off the fog, revealing a bright blue sky littered with hazy clouds. I imagined I could feel the day beginning to warm, nearly sense the dew evaporating on the grass and the chilly ground heating up. The train whistle sounded again, closer this time, and from the other side of the trees I could just make out the silhouette of a locomotive as it slowly wound its way from The Valley, keeping to its schedule as it always had. You could plan a life around the Canadian Pacific, my grandmother had often told me, And you'd never be late.
It was late August and there hadn't been much traffic on the road from Yarmouth. The familiar villages were now behind me - Church Point, Bear River, Weymouth - I had taken my time driving, having no particular timetable to keep to and suspecting that it might be years if not a lifetime before I would find myself on these roads again. I had breakfast in Digby, watching the scallop boats come and go with the tides, then slowly headed down Highway 217, "The Digby Neck" as it was commonly known. I was thinking of how many times I had made this trip, through Gulliver's Cove and Little River, and Sandy Cove and finally to the extraordinary hairpin turn at East Ferry, where the road unexpectedly ended at the very edge of the ocean and more than one carelessly overconfident driver had plunged over the guard rail and been taken by an unforgiving tide. After one particularly spectacular night time crash, I remembered Uncle Shad telling Nana that it was a miracle anyone ever survived - Them whats lived to tell the tale, don't, he said grimly, It'd be temptin' fate to brag and it don't make no sense to try and outrun your own timetable.
Across the passage, Tiverton sat in the afternoon sun, a picture postcard of a tiny fishing village. Bait shacks lined the coastline and a dozen or so dories rocked on the whitecaps. A Nova Scotian flag waved from the old post office building and a small circle of old men mended nets on the end of the wharf. After Tiverton, there would be Central Grove at the halfway mark, two or three houses and a lily pond and you were past it, and then I would be on the top of the hill that overlooked Freeport - green and blue and sparkling from the square to The Point - a picture I can still see if I close my eyes and wish hard enough. The small white church on the left, just below the cemetery, the cove at high tide, Curt's candy store by the schoolhouse, the baseball field. The road stretched out like a shimmering ribbon, down for a ways, then flat for a ways - past McIntyre's and the dance hall, past where the post office used to be, then gradually rising up toward the sun and around a gentle, downward curve to where I could see the Sullivan's house and the remains of Willie Foot's, Uncle Len's pale green gingerbreaded one, and at the very foot of the hill, down a steep gravel driveway with a strawberry field on one side, what was once Nana's beloved summer house. It sat, almost untouched by time, just as I remembered, overgrown with high grass except for the shortcut path which led from the top of the driveway to the front road. Knowing that a new generation of villagers still cut through to save the long hike around the curve made me glad - Nana had always fussed about this minor trespassing but never with much conviction or heart. John Sullivan's boat was gone, replaced with a shiny aluminum storage shed, strangely out of place in the weeds and debris. There was not a remnant of the canteen and the ferry slip looked to be new. Sparrow's old house still stood but appeared empty and badly neglected while wildflowers grew in place of Old Hat's chicken wired garden.
Despite my citizenship, I will always be a Canadian in my heart.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Travel destinations: Digby Neck, Nova Scotia
by Frances Stanford writing to or for Helium Destination Guides
Digby Neck, Nova Scotia, is the perfect vacation destination to choose if you are looking to enjoy the great outdoors. The ferry from Saint John docks in this location and it is just off Route 101 – the main highway through the Annapolis Valley. There are a few accommodations to choose from, one of which is the luxurious Digby Pines Golf Resort and Spa. You can also choose the rustic cabins of Brier Island Lodge, one of the best eco-tourism accommodations in this area. There are also cottages for rent at daily and weekly rates.
Mountain bikers will truly enjoy Brier Island, which you can access by means of a ferry from Digby Neck. There are two dirt roads on the island, which measures only 4 by 1.5 miles. You can even rent a bike if you forget to bring your own.
Long Island is the favoured destination for hikers in the Digby Neck area. There are several hikes through woodlands that take you out along the coast to enjoy the panoramic vistas of both the Bay of Fundy and St. Mary’s Bay. You will have to make sure you wear suitable footwear as you will traverse bogs, swamps and marshes. If you wish you can even climb down one of the steep cliffs to the water’s edge at Balancing Rock where there are 169 steps down the sheer bluff.
Digby Neck is the perfect location to enjoy whale watching at any time of the year. These giant creatures feed on the tiny marine life that comes into the Bay of Fundy with the tides. There are several tour companies operating in the area with whom you can book a cruise to take you farther out into the bay to watch the whales frolicking in the ocean.
Birdwatchers will likely want to spend a great deal of time in the marshes of Seawall where many different species of birds can be found from spring until fall each year. The entire area is completely unspoiled by the tourist industry and offers an exciting chance to get to see the wildlife and flora of the area in its natural setting.
Many artists have found the perfect scenery for great paintings and it is not uncommon to see people with easels set up in the most unlikely venues. Even if you don`t paint, the photos you take of your visit to this area will bring back memories time after time.
Learn more about this author, Frances Stanford.
by Frances Stanford writing to or for Helium Destination Guides
Digby Neck, Nova Scotia, is the perfect vacation destination to choose if you are looking to enjoy the great outdoors. The ferry from Saint John docks in this location and it is just off Route 101 – the main highway through the Annapolis Valley. There are a few accommodations to choose from, one of which is the luxurious Digby Pines Golf Resort and Spa. You can also choose the rustic cabins of Brier Island Lodge, one of the best eco-tourism accommodations in this area. There are also cottages for rent at daily and weekly rates.
Mountain bikers will truly enjoy Brier Island, which you can access by means of a ferry from Digby Neck. There are two dirt roads on the island, which measures only 4 by 1.5 miles. You can even rent a bike if you forget to bring your own.
Long Island is the favoured destination for hikers in the Digby Neck area. There are several hikes through woodlands that take you out along the coast to enjoy the panoramic vistas of both the Bay of Fundy and St. Mary’s Bay. You will have to make sure you wear suitable footwear as you will traverse bogs, swamps and marshes. If you wish you can even climb down one of the steep cliffs to the water’s edge at Balancing Rock where there are 169 steps down the sheer bluff.
Digby Neck is the perfect location to enjoy whale watching at any time of the year. These giant creatures feed on the tiny marine life that comes into the Bay of Fundy with the tides. There are several tour companies operating in the area with whom you can book a cruise to take you farther out into the bay to watch the whales frolicking in the ocean.
Birdwatchers will likely want to spend a great deal of time in the marshes of Seawall where many different species of birds can be found from spring until fall each year. The entire area is completely unspoiled by the tourist industry and offers an exciting chance to get to see the wildlife and flora of the area in its natural setting.
Many artists have found the perfect scenery for great paintings and it is not uncommon to see people with easels set up in the most unlikely venues. Even if you don`t paint, the photos you take of your visit to this area will bring back memories time after time.
Learn more about this author, Frances Stanford.
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