Back to Reality

August 20, 2016

We pulled into the Pioneer Trails office around noon.  Since we had never taken a group photo we spent some time trying to find the right spot for that.  We probably all look a little travel weary but the group picture was taken and preserved for posterity.

One way I  know I had a good vacation is if I have a hard time returning to real life.  This one is hard.  I must admit the sad truth.  I could easily become a self-indulgent, non-productive member of society given the chance.  It's time to give myself a figurative kick in the rear and get on with life. A life that is filled with good things, albeit less carbs and more exercise.

On the plus side it's wonderful to be with my grandkids again.  And their parents. The most spectacular sights on the planet do not compare to having sweet babies squeezing my neck.  One particular four-year-old with blonde ringlets and shining blue eyes, informed me that she had "missed me terrible!"

During our last few miles together David Lee led us in some songs.  Oh Lord My God, Amazing Grace, Blest Be The Tie That Binds, among others.  He read aloud a poem he wrote which made us laugh and brought a few tears to our eyes as well.  He graciously gave me permission to include it on this blog:

This coach with eight wheels it rolls down the highway,

  Its loaded with Stutzmans, all cousins they say,

While scattered among them you also will find

  Some folks who are dear friends of all the Stutz kind.

The men at the wheel would be Junior and Dave,

  To turn that big wheel they must really be brave.

Sometimes they forget that its time for Rest Stop,

  Until some fair ladies are ready to pop!

Then traffic slows down to just barely a crawl,

  Till some folks now dearly desire a stall!

So finally a Rest area breaks into view,

  And everyone knew what they needed to do.

The sign on the door said that this one is closed,

  But on a side building a sign was exposed;

It said do not urinate on our stone wall,

  The camera will see if you go there at all.

So finally we found that long row of outhouses;

  To use them, some ladies just held shut their noses.

Then Cadillac Mountain was almost a fright,

  The fog was so thick, but a beautiful sight. 

The raindrops were wet and the wind in a hurry;

  It sent us all back to the coach in a scurry.

McDonalds one morning, twas time for some chow;

  With potty break too, we all made it somehow.

I placed my food order while standing in line,

  Two muffins egg sausage with cheese sounds just fine.

We opened our sacks and were ready to bite,

  But where were the eggs, they were nowhere in sight!

To fix our food order its back to the counter;

  Not one time but twice I went back there to hound her:

Third time is a charm I have heard some folk say;

  Those muffins with eggs finally turned out okay.

One lady took off with the TV remote,

  And thought it would work like the phone in her tote.

But TV remotes do not work well at all,

  When ladies are trying to make a phone call.

Remote was then placed back into the motel;

  So that piece of mischief, it ended real well.

We should all return what we never should take;

  Its good that we fix the mistakes that we make.

We stopped at the Magical Mountain one day,

  The gal in the Gift Shop was there heard to say;

My cell phone, it must have decided to run;

  To lose a good phone, it is really no fun.

Our TV remote lady had picked it up,

  But took it right back to that gal in the shop.

So phone and remote were all safely returned,

  And our dear gal's honor was very well earned.

One guy bought some lobster traps to take along;

  Next morning those three traps just lay there alone,

Stashed under the coach they were all high and dry;

  Its then those traps' owner was heard to reply,

I'll have to return them right back to that jerk,

  I caught not one lobster, they really don't work!

In souvenir shop the next day there he bought,

  Some red rubber lobsters, now in his traps caught.

I think that we all had a very good time,

  While riding along on this Green Country line.

From home Buckeye State to the north shores of Maine,

  Then into Canadians' fair land we came.

A three hour cruise on the Bay of Fundy,

  Took us across to the coast town of Digby.

At Peggy's Cove we found a beautiful sight;

  Before we departed the sun said Goodnight.

Our Scottish guide there in the town Halifax,

  Told stories and many historical facts.

The kilt that he wore, well, it gave him no guilt;

  Don't call it a skirt, he said, You may get kilt.

The mountains in Highlands great Park were so tall;

  The picnic right there was enjoyed by us all.

The ferry ride north to that beautiful Isle

  Where our guide Elizabeth shared with a smile.

The town of Charlotte there she showed us with glee,

  At evening the musical, 'Anne with an E'.

The Island of Edward the Prince was so grand,

  But then it was on to the New Brunswick land.

The U.S.and Holmes County then was our goal,

  The sharing and singing enjoyed by us all.

Such beautiful scenes and the sights that we saw;

  It caused us to many times gaze at in awe.

These cousins, it seems that they always have fun,

  We love these dear folks and their friends, everyone.

So thanks to Green country for doing this tour;

  I'm sure that we all want to do it some more.

Now may I yet share just a bit of advice,

  Lets keep our knees down and our eyes to the skies.

Our LORD will soon come back to take us away,

  Up to that Great Homeland, forever we'll stay.

                                      For my cousins and friends,

                                                 David Lee Stutzman

 

 

And now the count-down until next time.

    

Winding Down

August 19, 2016

Amish Country Pennyslvania

Today was to be a driving day.  We pulled out of the hotel in South Portland, Maine around 7:30 AM, for the final leg of our journey.

Paul had been asked to do the devotional this morning and he talked about how much God loves us and that we are all as important to him as someone we might think of as much greater than ourselves.  Someone like Billy Graham, for example.  After he had finished talking and prayed he was called back up to the microphone and asked to share his personal story.  Many of those aboard had heard bits and pieces of what life had been like growing up in the dysfunction of his family and they wanted to hear more. 

An hour later people were still asking questions.  It was good for Paul, I think, to talk about the journey he’s been on.  He’s able now to talk about it without rancor; the bitterness and pain has long since gone, leaving in its place sober acknowledgement that life isn’t great sometimes but that it is as good as you determine to make it.  As he has often said, “You can’t help what’s been done to you but you can help what you do about it.”

We ate lunch at a Cracker Barrel in New York State.  It seems warmer here than in Maine, and the weather is beautiful. Back on the bus many of us either napped or read our books or both.  Until the back end of the bus erupted again.  It seems the back seats are where all the craziness happens.  General merriment and much laughing soon had everyone on the bus awake again.  Several people walked back to investigate and before long they were joining the party too.

We entered Pennsylvania in the early evening.  When traffic slowed to a crawl Dave and JR decided taking a secondary road might be advantageous. What could have been a much longer trip turned into a ten-minute detour through lush farmlands bordered by Amish farms. And we saw our first buggy since leaving home almost two weeks ago.

One of the best things about traveling on a bus, especially with people you know, is all the conversations that happen while you’re cruising down the highway.  Moving freely about at will, sitting for a time with this person or that, hearing their stories, learning about their lives – it all adds up to a wonderful time with memories formed and new relationships started. 

We are staying at the Comfort Inn in Clearfield, Pennsylvania tonight.  It is situated high on a hill overlooking all the typical fast food places one usually finds on an interstate exit.  We parked in one of those eatery’s parking lots and dispersed for a quick supper at whichever place appealed to each of us.  After a full meal and milkshake at Arby’s I decided to walk up the hill to the hotel rather than climb on the bus and getting hauled up.  Five or six others joined me.  It felt good to get a little exercise.  I’ve been packing on the pounds and getting lazy these past few weeks. It's shocking how quickly one can become addicted to self-indulgence. It’s a good thing this fun is drawing to a close before I lose all desire to be productive ever again.

After everyone was settled into the hotel for the night, Dave called a meeting to discuss possibilities for the next Stutzman Cousins Vacation.  Even though Paul and I are not Stutzmans, we have been very fortunate to be a part of two of their extended trips.  I’m already looking forward to the next time away with this group, wherever that may take me.

Border Crossings

August 18, 2016

We left our hotel in Saint John, New Brunswick, this morning around 8:00.  Verna spoke about her appreciation for the welcome and care she feels from everyone on the bus.  It’s not difficult; she is much-loved by us all. Her sense of humor and sunny disposition with the occasional spice of sarcasm makes her enjoyable company.

We reached the border in short order. Everyone seemed subdued and we all wished we’d be finished with the crossing. I’ve had easy interactions and rough interactions with border guards.  As a rule, entry into the U.S. is more difficult than entry into Canada. Paul being the naturally friendly and outgoing sort sometimes says things that are unappreciated by the people who decide whether he gets in or out of the country.  We, on the bus, encouraged him not to speak unless absolutely necessary and then with one-word answers.  He took all our ribbing in stride and agreed with us.

The first place we found to cross was not a place that takes buses so one of the guards crawled aboard and stayed there until Dave had driven through, turned the bus around and back into Canada.  Then we drove a few miles to the crossing meant for us.  Sometimes they gather all the passports, take them inside, and, after doing whatever it is they do in there, wave us through.  More often than not they make us fill out a form, after which we all get off the bus, are asked a few questions, and then curtly told to leave.

Today was different.  The first guy had the typical “I have all the power and you have none” attitude.  He snapped at Dave, telling him to turn to the right then getting testy when he did.  We were told to all get off the bus and file into the building.  No cell phones or other electronics allowed.  Once we were all in line like a bunch of convicts waiting for our turn in the showers, the atmosphere changed. One of the three men interviewing us looked and sounded like he’d be more at home on the Tonight Show.  He was friendly, telling us with all joviality to “step right up, step right up!”  He then asked a question or two and motioned people to the bench along the wall.  The guard that interviewed Paul and I was less jolly but still friendly, none of them showing the hostility we’ve come to expect from border guards.

After we’d all been interviewed we were motioned out the back door by Friendly Guard.  He cracked jokes, welcomed us back home, made favorable comments about the OSU Buckeyes, and told us they’re glad to have us back.  It was disconcerting.  And scarier than if he’d been a jerk.  I saw water-boarding potential in his eyes.

After we were back on the road, the mood lightened and everyone was talking and laughing again.  I enjoy visiting Canada.  But I love the USA.  It has a whole different feel. It’s home.  I’m guessing Canadians feel the same about their homeland.

"water heater" in Roosevelt Cottage

Hubbard Cottage Dining Room

Roosevelt Cottage playroom

After driving a few hours we stopped at Roosevelt Campobello International Park on Campobello Island in New Brunswick’s Bay of Fundy. The summer home of Franklin Roosevelt from the time he was one year old, the island remains a beautiful setting to this day.  Considered an international park, U.S. history preserved on Canadian soil, we were surprised to find that we’d have to do the whole customs thing all over again.  This time the guard checked us all out individually on the bus, comparing our passport photos to our faces.  I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted that he recognized me from my picture. He asked a question or two along the way.  It took a long time.  We spent less than two hours there, touring the Roosevelt cottage (with eighteen bedrooms and six bathrooms, cottage might be a misnomer) and the Hubbard Cottage, both of which are set up much like they were when Roosevelt lived there. 

Roosevelt was only thirty-nine when he contracted polio and after being almost totally helpless for five weeks, was finally carried off the island and taken to New Yord where he worked to regain his health.  He recovered in large part but was never fully without physical disability again.  Proving that one can do whatever one is determined enough to pursue, he was elected President of the United States.  He served longer than any other president: twelve years.  He was elected to a fourth term but died before he could serve more than a few weeks of it.  After his presidency the law was changed to prevent anyone from serving more than two terms.

 

Antique Blueberry Sorter

Then it was back to customs again.  The tedious rigmarole of getting on and off the island must surely have a negative impact on its tourism, I would think. What exactly do they expect a tour bus full of senior citizens to do in the two hours they are roaming around on the 2800 acre island? After showing our passports once again to yet another customs official we were finally free and back in the states again, headed toward our noon meal at Helen’s Restaurant in Machias, Maine.

 

Situated beside a body of water, whether a lake or yet another bay I could not say, the restaurant was an attractively decorated building.  In addition to the many tables inside, a balcony was visible outside through a wall of windows; there were more tables situated there, each with its own colorful umbrella keeping the hot sun at bay. It was lovely. I love to eat outside.

The hostess was efficiently seating our crew, four to six at a time at various tables inside.  I looked covetously at the veranda and said to no one in particular, “I wish we could eat out there.”  Wouldn’t you know when it came down to the last eight of us, she took us outside!  It probably thrilled me far more than the situation warranted, but I do love to eat outside!

The day was perfect weather-wise.  The food was amazing.  I ordered their soup special: seafood chowder.  Large chunks of mild white fish in a milky, buttery broth, seasoned to perfection.  Helen’s is also known for her home-made pies.  We all ordered our slices before our meals, for fear they’d run out.  I enjoyed the best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted and Paul was

equally impressed with his blueberry pie. This is blueberry country and the wild Maine blueberries are superior to other blueberries, or so I’m told. 

After lunch we drove to a local blueberry farm.  The owner said he has forty-five acres of wild blueberries.  As he explained it, 85% of the plant is underground and needs to rest every other year, during which time they are pruned or burned to stimulate healthy growth.  He told us he harvests half and rests half each growing season. And he stressed that these were not planted but are wild blueberries.  An important distinction, I take it. We watched the sorting of the berries on conveyor belts and heard about how mechanical gathering devices are more gentle on the plants than manual picking would be.  Everyone so inclined bought boxes of fresh berries and stored them in the large coolers under the bus.

 The rest of the day was spent driving south. A brief stop for supper at a truck stop and then back to a hotel we stayed at last Tuesday in South Portland, Maine, when this adventure was just beginning.  We each found a small bag of chocolate covered blueberries in our rooms; they were yummy.  But then I’ve never had anything covered in chocolate that wasn’t.

Tides and Bridges

August 17, 2016

We left early today.  On the road by 7:30. Merv did the devotional and talked about the greatness of God. We sang “Oh Lord My God” and then Dave read an account of how the moon literally scrubs the earth clean; without it we would all die.  I’ll let you research that for yourself.  What an amazing creator we have!

The rain was steady with no signs that it was planning to let up anytime soon.  We reached the Confederation Bridge which is, at nine miles, the longest continuing marine span in the world. I quickly sent a message to my kids back home to watch for us on the live cam.  Jaimee’ saw us and managed to get a photo. She sent it to us and I posted it to Facebook.  This all happened in the span of a few minutes.  Pretty incredible.  New Brunswick to Ohio to New Brunswick to Cyberspace.

Another hour or two of traveling brought us to Magnetic Hill in Moncton, Nova Scotia. We drove down the hill, turned around, put the bus in neutral, and coasted back up the hill.  Whether it’s an optical illusion or an actual magnetic pull up an actual hill, I couldn’t say. I will be researching the story a bit more when I have internet service again.

After coasting up the hill we de-boarded at the gift shop and restaurant nearby.  To reach the buildings we had to cross a covered bridge.  The sign said it was 12 feet and 3 inches tall.  Same as the bus we are on.  It’s not an air-conditioner kind of day but we’d still like to keep the one on the roof just in case we need it.  Dave stepped out into the rain to check things out.  He told JR, who was behind the wheel, to lower the bus as much as possible, a nice feature used when people are getting on and off.  With the bus lowered and Dave watching from outside, we made it across with everything intact.  These two guys have displayed impressive skill more than once on this trip.

I’ve had plenty of embarrassing experiences in my life thus far.  Today was no exception. I made my way to the restaurant for some coffee and snacks to take with me.  After visiting with the nice lady behind the counter I bought a piece of the homemade butterscotch pie that she assured me was very good, planning to eat it later when we were on the road again.  After shopping at the gift shop I boarded the bus to check on one of my fellow passengers who had hurt her foot earlier;  last evening her husband dropped a large suitcase it.  Yes, it was an accident.  We had filled an ice-bag in the restaurant and she was doing fine, with her leg elevated and propped up with pillows. 

When we were all boarded some time later, Dave told us all that the lady in the restaurant was missing her cell phone.  He pointed out to everyone that I HAD pilfered the TV remote at an earlier stay on this very trip and maybe they should frisk me to see if I was the guilty party again.  I had my phone in my hand so I laughed with everyone else.  Then I got nervous.  I ransacked my purse and was relieved to find there was no extra phone there.  I checked my raincoat pockets.  Only my phone found there. And then, as the bus was pulling out, I patted my rear pockets.

“Stop!” I pretty much screamed. “OH MY WORD!  I have her phone!!”  JR brought the bus to a stop and I ran into the restaurant where a very relieved woman was happy to see her missing phone.  I was so humiliated, I told her I didn’t want to get back on the bus since I knew they’d never let me live it down.  I’m not traveling with people who forget things like this very fast.  “Can I just stay here?!” I asked, practically whining. I could feel the heat in my face which I assumed was probably bright red.

She and her companions laughed heartily and told me I was welcome to move in.  Then I walked back out in the rain to face the people on the bus with all their best jokes ready and waiting.  I had been pretty pleased that I am the youngest person on board.  One of them pointed this out to me and asked me how I’m going to function when I’m their age.  I often wonder the same thing myself.

Then Irene told us what happened to her at the same stop.  She had headed for the bathrooms as soon as she got off the bus.  She opened the door indicating public washrooms and came face to face with five or six men.  She screamed and backed out the door as fast as she could. 

“No no, wait!” they told her.   “This is the right place.  Come on in!” It was a hallway leading to both bathrooms. 

Paul said, “I heard someone scream but didn’t know what was happening!”  Everyone on the bus was laughing heartily by this time. Our unsympathetic fellow-travelers were all wishing for videos of the both of us. Both of us shocked and startled and humiliated. It’s a good thing we both have a sense of humor in our possession.

Speaking of bathrooms - I was somewhat incredulous at a sign I saw in one of them today. If I tried standing or squatting on the toilet I would surely end up in a full body cast. 

At low tide as pictured in info center.

During our visit today.

We toured Hopewell Rocks and learned about the incredible power of the incoming tides.  Some years ago attempts were made to harness the power of the mighty Atlantic with a turbine built to last ten years.  Nine days later it was useless.  Millions of dollars spent and still this particular site has not managed to tame the tides.

We spent much of the afternoon on a curving bumpy road that was touted to us as a great scenic way to get to Saint John.  Curving and bumpy do not equal scenic.  We bounced along for what seemed like a long time finally reaching the city where we were hoping to see more tidal action.  The Saint John River empties into the Bay of Fundy through a narrow gorge. At high tide the flow of water causes the current to temporarily reverse its flow at what is known hereabouts as the Reversing Falls.  It took us awhile to find it but eventually, with Marge’s help in finding the microscopic signs, we pulled up in front of an information center beside the river. 

There were beautiful walkways to the water’s edge and a wall of windows at the back edge of the info center for those who preferred the overlook view.  It was beautiful to see, the churning currents swirling in circles, foaming over rocks, the river displaying its power.

Our next stop was a nearby shopping mall where we scattered at the food court foraging for supper, then to the hotel for another fun night of games.  Hand and Foot and Black Seven.  Lots of trash talk from people who are usually all politeness and warmth.  These evenings are some of the best moments of the trip.  

Oh. . .and. . . Magnetic Hill is an optical illusion.  But as one blogger said, an illusion that still appears real after you realize it's an illusion is the best kind.

Avonlea and Green Gables

August 16^th, 2016

When we were told to take the tunnel under the road to the main building of the hotel for breakfast I pictured a dungeon-like passage with iron sconces holding tar torches against the damp rock walls. Maybe even a few spiders crawling into dark corners and one or two rats skittering about. Listening to Anne-With-An-E last night running free with her imaginings jump-started mine into indulging a few fancies of its own. Never one to willingly enter anything underground, especially when eight-legged creatures and rodents are involved, I opted to run across the road up-top.  When I saw the actual passageway after eating, I ventured to brave it on the way back.  No spiders nor rats either, I’m happy to report.

Today we toured with our guide Elizabeth.  Cal gave a short meditation before we left the hotel and Elizabeth enthusiastically led us in a spontaneous rendition of “This Is The Day.” We learned a great deal from Elizabeth, the first being that Charlottetown is the birthplace of Canada. New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia, also known as the Maritime Provinces, held a meeting of elected officials over 150 years ago to discuss combining the three provinces.  Representatives came to present their ideas of forming a much larger union, a country.  It was the beginning of Canada.

We stopped for a photo op of the Harbor; the cannons still in place are reminders of the dangers faced by early inhabitants of the Islands.  We passed by the House where the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge stayed during a recent visit.  Elizabeth shared a wealth of historical knowledge as Dave slowly cruised the streets.  I enjoyed it thoroughly.  The locals were very polite although they likely found us annoying at times.  Who, us? Annoying?  Well, yes.

Oats, wheat, and barley are grown on PEI and an experimental farm, started in 1949, continues to research in an ongoing effort to provide the best possible crops for the provinces.  Somewhat like our own OARDC, I imagine. There are fifteen hundred farms on PEI with the number one export, potatoes.  All of the Burger King French fries in Canada and the U.S. are supplied by PEI potatoes. Fourteen of the dairy operations are totally automated with robots doing the milking.  The jersey cows wander about at will inside the barns and are milked whenever they wish to be.  Pampered and fed with precisely measured and optimal foods, they aren’t all that far removed from the harems of kings. (My commentary, not the tour guide’s.) PEI has three wind farms with around seventy turbines and, according to Elisabeth, these have been much help with power needs.

The high iron oxide content in the soil makes it red, not blood dripping from murdered and tortured souls, as Anne Shirley imagined.

The Amish came to the Island about a year ago.   Since they wish to remain separate from any government programs they have found a way to sooth their religious angst regarding Canada’s universal health care.  The amount of money spent by the government for their health care is given to a charity of their choosing.  Or so Elizabeth says.

We drove through rolling farmland, planted with potatoes, barley, corn, wheat, and Paul thought he saw some hemp.  Beautiful scenery that reminded me of Lancaster’s Big Valley, spread out on both sides of the highway.  Unlike Lancaster though, we caught glimpses of the ocean on both sides as well.

Cow’s Creamery was our next stop.  I was anticipating this one the most after having sampled their ice-cream aboard the ferry yesterday.  Mooey Gooey is my favorite so far.  But there are many more flavors to sample so who’s to say it will remain thus?!  Fun Fact Number One:  This creamery is known world-wide, except in Holmes County Ohio, it seems.  They are known for their pun-filled t-shirts that use popular culture as their inspiration.  Of course I had to buy a couple of squishy cows, stuffed, not real, for the littlest granddaughters back home.

A quick walk to the Anne of Green Gables Chocolate Store and my wallet was lighter when I left.  Chocolate covered lobsters and cow chips for the oldest granddaughters.

We spent almost an hour at the Prince Edward Island Preserve Company where owner Bruce climbed aboard and welcomed us.  Fun Fact Number Two:  What’s a jitterbug?  A Scotsman who doesn’t want to pay to use the toilet.

We sampled delectable, home-made jams, jellies, and spreads of all kinds.  My personal favorites: Lime Curd and Apple Cinnamon Curd.  Yes I bought some for whichever of my family members please me the most after I get home.

Lunch at Chez Yvonne in Cavendish provided the opportunity to try mussels.  If one can ignore how disgusting they look, eating them is doable.  Actually not bad at all.

On the way to Cavendish Beach we learned a lot about Lucy Maude Montgomery who authored the books that awakened my own imagination as I read them, much like the heroine in her stories.  I felt a bit giddy with anticipation at seeing Avonlea and Green Gables.  I was very surprised to find not a rock-strewn shoreline as I had thought I would at Cavendish Beach, but a sandy stretch of land filled with sunbathers and swimmers.  I stuck my toes in and shivered.  No self-respecting Floridian would ever immerse themselves in such frigid waters.  But people from the far north have no such inhibitions.

There is a large population of Japanese on the island, Elizabeth told us.  Fun Fact Number Three: credit goes to a missionary who had Anne of Green Gables, the book, with her in Japan.  Eventually the book was translated into Japanese and many of them came to PEI to see where all this fictional stuff took place.  I’m oversimplifying but it all led to many Japanese people moving to the island. Frequently they travel here to be married in the same house where Lucy Maude Montgomery was married. They try to recreate things as they were in the books, even going so far as hiring girls to be Anne in their weddings.  Life, as they say, really is stranger than fiction.

And finally, Green Gables and Avonlea!  The village is all for tourists.  But then why shouldn’t it be.  It’s not like a fictional character actually needs a place to live.  But I feel kind of like LM Montgomery.  When asked if Anne was real she would hesitate and feel like she had committed violence against her heroine when she said “no.”

Touring Green Gables was much more satisfying.  The house belonged to an aunt and uncle of Montgomery’s and she spent many hours there growing up. It is likely she found much inspiration for her stories there.  We hiked the lovely Haunted Wood and Lover’s Lane.  In the house I saw the pantry where Anne’s mouse found its romantic end in the plum sauce. Anne’s bedroom looked exactly as I imagined it, minus the tree outside her window. Yes, again I’m confusing fact and fiction. I was delighted to discover that there are still a number of Montgomery’s books I haven’t read.  I promptly bought two of them. I’m looking forward to many hours of enjoyment.

Back on the road again with more information about the island from Elizabeth. Fun Fact Number Four: Spreading manure is called nutrient distribution.

Fun Fact Number Five:  The tartan of our guide’s skirt is symbolic.  I was unable to hear of what.

Six hundred souls inhabit the small town of Rustico, near the tourist village of Avonlea.  Beaches line both sides of the highway.  Bait Shacks, weathered and faded red are still used regularly.  Tourist shops sprout up like weeds to mar the landscape. otherwise steeped in a rich history of the seafaring people who live there.  Although I found the stores an eyesore I rushed right in with all the other tourists to buy things we do not need for the grandkids back home.

And our final stop of the day before heading back to the hotel: Fisherman’s Wharf for a much-anticipated lobster supper.  The place was packed with diners, most of them wearing lobster bibs and piling their plates high at the food bars stretched from end-to-end along one side of the building.  Heaping plates of mussels, salads, hot foods, desserts, all consumed with gusto.  My lobster was mighty fine.  Elizabeth said she eats all of hers except the shell.  I, however, drew the line at eating the body.  It looked a little too much like yesterday’s food, post-rejection by my stomach.  I will stick with the claws and tail, thank-you.

We waddled into our hotel and were delighted to find a lovely place.  Our rooms opened into an indoor courtyard of sorts.  It resembled a lane with street lamps and all.  Chairs, sofas, and tables were grouped about, perfect for quiet conversation and we made full use of them before drifting into the dining area to play a few card games before turning in.

A very full day.  A very fine one.

August 15: Prince Edward Island

August 15, 2016

We left Baddeck at 7:00 this morning, the Inn still sleeping, except for those of us on the bus.  We who couldn’t get started without coffee found some at a convenience store around the corner.  They didn’t open until 7:00 but the cashier had pity on us.  Early mornings demand some caffeine, especially when it’s cool, foggy, and damp.

An hour or so down the road we stopped at McDonalds for a quick bite or two and then it was back on the bus and onward to the Caribou-Wood Islands Ferry Service for our short ride to Prince Edward Island.  I almost expected to see Anne and Gilbert cruising by in their open buggy on our arrival.

Since we were about a half hour early to the ferry landing most of us exited to either use the porta-johns or stretch our legs. Someone mentioned that there were still some cold cuts left over from yesterday’s picnic, stowed under the bus in an ice-cooler.  So several of us made sandwiches and doled them out, along with the remaining blueberry cake and potato salad.  That’s our Amish heritage coming through: waste not, want not, and all that. 

The vehicles were finally packed in with very little space between them.  We all stayed on the bus until it was parked below decks, then we exited and found whichever spot appealed to us for the half hour trip to the island.  The sky was grey and stormy behind us and blue overhead, more billowing dark clouds beyond them.  The wind was chilly but not unpleasant.  I wandered around on the various decks before finally returning inside when rain advanced toward us from beyond the small patch of blue. 

I had never heard of Cows Creamery before this trip but it seems to be all the rage up here.  Since there was an outlet on board I joined the others in the long line and waited my turn.  I was not disappointed.  The ice-cream was delicious.  Someone told me we would be visiting the actual creamery tomorrow.  Sounds good to me.

Below decks two women were singing folk/celtic songs; they sounded a bit like Alison Krauss. Behind a table a man was handing out free coffee samples for the beans he was selling. Of course I had some.The air was festive and I was anticipating what I believed would be my favorite part of the trip: PEI.

We reached the island in due course and made our way to Charlottetown for an hour to shop.  There were plenty of places to leave our money along a quaint and charming street in the center of town.  I bought a watch and one or two other things I didn’t need. Anne of Green Gables Chocolate Company is another popular local franchise.  With plenty of mouthwatering things to choose from I soon had a bag full of treats to take along.  It is doubtful whether any of these things will survive the journey home; I’m already digging into them at random.  The fox plops are my favorite: potato chips dipped in chocolate. Or heart-attack-on-a-stick.  Whichever.

After we arrived at the hotel a few blocks up the street from the shopping area I discovered my newly acquired watch did not work so I walked back down and exchanged it.  I've notice that people here are very considerate of pedestrians. When I was patiently waiting to dart across, even though there was not crosswalk, a passing car stopped to let me illegally get to the other side.  Only once did I witness any road rage.  Several days ago I heard a man screaming at several walkers that "THERE IS A CROSSWALK.  USE IT!" or something like that.  The puzzling thing was, they were.  Maybe their left foot got outside the lines.  Maybe he had a problem.

We ate supper before leaving for the Charlottetown Arts Center and I once-again chose the pan-fried haddock.  And once-again, it was delicious.  We made it to the theater in good time for the musical of Anne of Green Gables.  Lucy Maud Montgomery made many hours of my childhood more pleasant when she wrote her endearing stories about the fictional red-head and her idyllic town of Avonlea.  I read the books so many times I had many lines from the play memorized.  I’m not sure what it is about the stories that appeals to so many people.  But appeal to them, it does.  The musical was not a disappointment.

And The Rains Fell on Cape Breton

August 14, 2016

After breakfast together in the Victorian dining room of the Inn’s restaurant we gathered whatever we might need for the day and boarded the bus, setting out for the Cabot Trail.  I sank into my seat anticipating fresh adventures.  Stowing my backpack, I tucked my phone behind the seat in front of me only to find that I had the TV remote in my hand instead.  Hopefully the maid wasn’t planning to watch reality shows while she cleaned our room.

Adin gave a short meditation as we rode up the winding, scenic highway after which we all sang a few songs.  Singing “How Great Thou Art” while seeing the majestic evidence of His incredible creation passing by outside the windows lends a profundity to the words beyond that found inside a building.

We meandered through hills, valleys, and mountains, although the mountains barely qualified as such when compared with the towering, snow-covered peaks of the Canadian Rockies.  But they were still ear-popping as the bus slowly climbed upward.  For many miles there were few trees except for small pines, water visible on both sides of the highway.  A scattering of homes rested on bluffs overlooking the rocky cliffs that fell straight into the water below, no sandy beaches in sight. Road signs held names impossible to pronounce: Nyanza, Whycocoma, Hautes-Terres-du-Cap-Breton.   Okay, so I'd like to see them pronounce Gnadenhutten. 

Our first bathroom break was at the park visitor's center.  I was one of the first off the bus and made my way quickly to the washrooms behind the main building.  As soon as I saw the urinal I knew I had made the wrong choice.  I did an about-face and rushed outside only to meet one of the men who had been behind me on my exit from the bus.  Neither of us had looked at the door signs very closely. When I took one door he automatically took the other.  It didn't take him long to realize his mistake either.  We both laughed and switched rooms without a word. First the TV remote and now this. I'm beginning to think I need a personal escort.

We stopped for a hike at Cape Breton Park only to find that the trails were closed with signs proclaiming them too great a risk for fire hazards.  Ironic, since it’s been raining steadily all day and everything is sopping wet.  We returned to the enclosed pavilion to find a sumptuous picnic lunch spread out for us.  Irene and several others had fixed ham, turkey, and cheese sandwiches, fresh fruit, potato salad, chips, carrot cake, blueberry cake, and cookies.  There was more than what we needed so Dave hollered out the door to a few campers straggling by and invited them in.  Several mothers with their children in tow, one of them from Quebec, one from somewhere undetermined, came in looking mightily appreciative.  A young man and woman from Montreal were biking through and ate their fill, likely very happy to have found our picnic in the middle of nowhere. I had to think of Paul Stutzman and how pleased he would have been with some unexpected calories during his various journeys across the globe.  The way these two were eating I supposed they felt the same. The leftover chips and cookies were sent with the children who didn’t need any persuasion to relieve us of them.

Full of food and feeling satisfied in spite of our thwarted hiking plans we set off up the mountain once again, on the bus. The rain continued and we returned to the Inn, each going our own way for supper.  We ended up at Wong’s Family Restaurant and it turned out to be the Wong Decision.  Sorry.  Couldn’t help myself.  Bland and pretty much tasteless, it was.  First less than satisfactory meal I’ve had on this trip though, so that’s pretty good, I’d say.

Paul disappeared with his cards in hand again.  I decided not to follow.  The Inn had no good place for everyone to congregate so the die-hards met in one of the rooms and hunched over tiny tables they pilfered from various locations.  The rest of us relaxed and went to bed.  Paul informed me the next day his luck had still not changed.  The man is a is either a sucker for punishment or stubborn. Or both.

Day Six: Truro and Baddeck

August 13, 2016

The day dawned beautiful and clear, the air cooler, the humidity low.  We left the hotel around 8:30.  Paul and Ruth Hershberger did the devotional as we drove.  Persevering during difficult times was the subject and they shared their personal stories about times that were impossible to understand, talking about how God’s faithfulness came through.  I enjoy hearing people’s own stories – I always get more out of what’s being said when real life is present.

Afterward Gloria spoke about Nickle Mines, where she and her husband live, and updated us on some of the happenings in the years since the tragic shooting there.  The world moves on but the people whose lives have been forever changed by the unimaginable actions of one troubled man must continue to live with the consequences of his actions.  Forgiveness when there is no closure, no end to the difficult days, is an ongoing decision, one day at a time.

Our first stop was at the Truro Farmer’s Market where Old Colony Mennonites sell fresh vegetables displayed like artwork. There were also baked goods, as well as rum, beer, cheese and jelly. We were told by our tour guide several days ago that Nova Scotia gives much credit to rum and beer for its very existence because of the army's use of both to bribe young men into service for their country. Although I'm fairly certain this is no longer practiced, I did notice rum and beer are frequently for sale in most tourist traps we browsed. Being a fan of neither beverage, I bought a wedge of mild Swiss Gouda and a loaf of crusty beer bread.  Since this combination called for some fine wine, I snagged a jar of Merlot Wine Jelly.  We all sampled some later, on the bus, cruising on down the road. 

We tried to see the tidal bore outside of Truro but missed it by minutes.  I had no clue what a tidal bore was; I learned it was the moon’s gravitational pull causing the rising tides from the Bay of Fundy to force the Salmon River into a backward flow twice a day.  I’ve added a link to a video on utube by someone who got there in time to see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWumonz87rA

We ate lunch at Jungle Jim’s in Truro, a place similar to Red Robin back home, without the big franchise feel.  The food was delicious and arrived quickly but, most importantly, was served by friendly people who appeared to enjoy their jobs, and did not suggest we go elsewhere.  Yes, I'm still feeling the burn from our experience several days ago.

The Lynwood Inn in Baddeck, Nova Scotia awaited our early evening arrival.  Beautifully situated overlooking a corner of the town, the water peeking through the trees beyond, the Inn also featured a restaurant with large verandas and multilevel decks on two sides.  Even though it was cool in the evening air many of us opted to eat outside, soaking in the beauty around us.  A solitary musician serenaded us during dinner, singing songs from our era. I would have described the man singing as "an older man" until I realized he was our age. (When did we get old?) Hence all the songs he sang being familiar to us. Paul couldn't help himself: he was singing along between bites. After stuffing myself with pan-fried haddock, I joined several others for a walk to a small ice-cream establishment a few blocks away.

I turned in early; too much food and a poor night’s sleep last night and I was ready for bed before the sun was completely gone.  Paul left in search of a card game with his Rook cards in one hand and his score pad in the other.  I was sound asleep long before he came back, moaning about his severe trouncing.

Day Five: The Titanic, The Citadel, and The Whales.

August 12, 2016

Today we toured the city of Halifax.  I learned many things I did not know this morning.  Allen, our tour guide instructed us that we are never to call the kilt he was wearing a skirt.  "Because," he said, "if you call it a skirt you will be kilt."

Did you know that of the 1500 people lost when the Titanic went down only 338 bodies were ever recovered?  Of those, 209 are buried in Halifax, in three separate cemeteries, according to their assumed religious persuasions.  Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, segregated even in death.  I wonder what they did if they found themselves in the same place on the other side.

Allen, told us about the recovery mission.  “There was no rescue,” he informed us.  “The water temperature was so frigid, people did not drown.  They died of hypothermia.” According to him, the movie depicting Leonardo DiCaprio clinging to a piece of floating debris, his lifeless, frozen body eventually pried loose by the woman he loved to sink to the bottom, was probably fairly accurate. I found it interesting that the grass in front of the grave of a man marked as J. Dawson was completely worn off from people who believe that he and the fictional Jack in the movie are one and the same, although they have nothing whatsoever to do with each other.

 Although Halifax is six hundred miles from where the disaster occurred, it was from there that crews went out to find and bring back as many as they could.  Only those kept afloat by their life jackets were found; once anyone had sunk to the bottom they were far too deeply submerged for anyone to bring them home. There was only one exception: a child estimated at two years old, found floating alone, with no life jacket, was brought back by the sea-hardened sailors who found him. The crew of the Mackay Bennett, were so moved they paid for a funeral and a special gravestone for the unidentified, unclaimed child.  To this day people leave coins, stuffed animals, and other signs of their visit at the grave. The little boy was not identified until 2011 when DNA proved his true age at nineteen months, and his name was added to the stone.

We saw the large cylindrical marker engraved with names of people killed in “The Halifax Explosion.”  In December of 1917 two ships collided in Halifax Harbor. One ship moved on from the minor impact; the other caught fire.  The Mont-Blanc was loaded with munitions, unknown to the residents watching the burning ship floundering in the water mere feet from their homes.  The Explosion that rocked the town killed 1700 people, injured 9000 more and damaged or destroyed 12,000 buildings.  It was the largest man-made explosion prior to the atomic bomb.

We spent time at the Public Gardens, a place of beauty filled with plants from every country the British conquered.  As Allen reminded us, “The sun never sets on the British Empire.”  And back in the day in an effort to show the people back home the unique botanical treasures from their latest conquests, foliage was brought back and planted.  On a side note: the hydrangeas here are a beautiful deep blue, most likely from the highly acidic soil.

Allen took us next to the Citadel, a star-shaped masonry fort built in 1828 but not completed until 28 years later.  We watched the firing of the canon, repeated every day at noon.  Allen told us about the G7 Summit held nearby in 1995 with President Bill Clinton and other world leaders present.  No one thought to mention the canon-firing tradition to those attending.  When the explosion rocked the area they thought they were under attack. There’s probably something wrong with me that I found that humorous.

Allen pointed out the area between the Citadel walls and the harbor, now filled with tall buildings, roadways, and bustling city life. Once it was home to four thousand soldiers and their tents, each of them given a gallon of beer every day to motivate their service to their country.  "That’s a Canadian gallon," Allen pointed out to us, "which is almost forty ounces more than a U.S. gallon. It’s a good thing the Citadel was never attacked,” since most likely the soldiers would have been too inebriated to launch a proper defense.  

Prisoners of war were confined inside the citadel, in tiny cells without attention paid to their comfort, religion, or personal preferences. One could say they were treated like. . .well. . .like the enemy. Novel idea.

We watched the changing of the guard and discussed possibilities for getting the expressionless, motionless, humorless guard standing stiff-backed at attention, to lose his composure, even just for a second or two.  In the end we took pity and restrained ourselves.  Being an obnoxious tourist is fun but even we have our limits.

Then it was off to eat lunch and do some whale watching.  The seafood here is amazing.  Probably because it was swimming in the ocean a few hours ago.    Eating it beside that ocean makes it taste all the better.  Paul decided to forego the boat ride since he’s been known to succumb to seasickness in the past.  Two and a half hours is a long time when one is losing one's lunch over the side.  So he stayed behind, ate ice-cream, and went to visit the Titanic Museum nearby. He reported his satisfaction to us later.

We were fortunate in our search for marine life.  We saw several whales, along with seals and porpoises. And there was a small island with nothing but a small house, an old lighthouse, and, according to our talkative boat guide, a plague of garter snakes.

Our cruise was pleasant in spite of the rain that eventually caught up with us and in spite of the annoying and very loud tour guide who came with the boat. (I wished Allen and his kilt would have been on board instead.) Even so, I learned plenty from him as well.  The crew pulled in a lobster trap which yielded several large specimens.  The one I got to hold was guessed to be fourteen years old because he weighed in at over two pounds and they grow at a rate of one pound every two years. They all had to be returned to the water though, since the season doesn’t begin until November.

We opted to return to the hotel early and fend for ourselves for supper.  Everyone who was so inclined gathered later to play cards.  I decided to do laundry and some writing.  And I have a maple donut that needs eating.