Life with Yourgogirl

Memories of Braemar

2012-02-13T14:51:00.001-04:00

Marcia Richardson is giving a talk at the Yarmouth County Museum this Wednesday night on Braemar Lodge. Her grandfather, followed by her father, owned and operated the business in its early years... the golden years. The family spent many memorable summers on the property, working to create a world-class resort.

I spent two wonderful summers there working as a desk clerk, then as an assistant manager, for Ken and Wretha Demone. They bought the property from Marcia's father. Through a lucky stroke of luck I was given a Palomino by a family in town at the start of the second summer. The Demones owned the Braemar Farm nearby and their daughter Geana and I would ride our horses into the water in front of the lodge. We'd slide off and hold onto their tail, pulling ourself back onto their back when their feet began to touch bottom again. The tourists loved it.

It was heartbreaking to hear the news of the main lodge fire on June 2, 1981. It was the end of the Braemar era but so many memories live on. The place employed dozens over its history and each person has their own nostalgic story.

Lost in a hotel

2012-02-07T13:46:00.003-04:00

We're following a steady beep, beep, beep, down the hall, into the elevator, and out onto another floor.
A member of the Yarmouth County Ground Search & Rescue team brandishes a receiver above his head, turning it slowly, zoning in on the signal.

The item we're searching for is about the size of an old-fashioned watch. This Personal Locator Unit (PLU) is hidden somewhere in the Rodd Grand Hotel to represent a lost Autistic child or Alzheimer patient, someone who would be wearing this signal-emitting device on a bracelet.

I'm receiving a demonstration connected with Project Lifesaver, a new program administered by the YCGSR that has the potential to cut search times dramatically.

The bracelets cost $300 each, and the VON changes the battery monthly for an additional $25 charge. As a YCGSR volunteer, and the mother of two Autistic children, Ann Harrington is happy to see the program implemented in the region.

“Their lives arepriceless,” she said, sharing a story about her daughter Kate.

“When she was five, sheslipped out of the house at 5:30 a.m. when everyone was sleeping, despite havingaudible alarms on the doors and windows. She was gone during a March Break snowstormfor four hours and was found very hypothermic. If we had this she would havebeen found right away,” she said.

Below, there be Sea Monsters

2012-01-24T15:25:00.001-04:00

The Yarmouth County Museum & Archives has a great exhibit on for January, February and March, with FREE admission.

Check out the Sea Monsters, a fascinating show featuring goose fish masks, accounts from ancient mariners, shark jaws, seahorses, viper fish and much more.

This museum has always been a favorite of mine, with the perfectly preserved stagecoaches in the Educational Wing, a must-see.

I want my boy to have a Dog

2012-01-19T21:19:00.000-04:00

A friend's forwarded email with a beautiful powerpoint show on dogs jiggled my memory recently. I carried the following poem in my wallet for nearly two decades. When Chas was born, I made sure it came true.

A Boy and a Dog

by Marty Hale

I want my boy to have a dog,

Or maybe two or three...
He'll learn from them much easier
Than he would learn from me.
A dog will show him how to love
And bear no grudge or hate;
I'm not so good at that myself
But dogs will do it straight.
I want my boy to have a dog
To be his pal and friend,
So he may learn that friendship
Is faithful to the end.

There never yet has been a dog
Who learned to double-cross,
Nor catered to you when you won
Then dropped you when you lost.

Coyote Callousness

2012-01-16T09:45:00.001-04:00

A coyote hunter made a really stupid move recently when he dumped three skinned bodies in a Regent Street brook. A friend on Facebook notified me of what had happened and I arrived at the same time as the RCMP.

The sight was alarming when viewed from the road. The carcasses looked exactly like greyhounds and the front paws had been hacked off. Another hunter on the scene hauled the remains out of the water and laid them in the tall grass. The crows immediately began circling.The story and photos, when published on our website, were viewed thousands of times and national media picked up the story.

The Best of 2011

2012-01-09T15:45:00.002-04:00

It's that time of year again... when we reporters delve into the albums from the past 12 months to pick our favorites. Tina and I have been saying how we should each be making iPhoto books from these. It's a project worth pursuing when time allows. Here's a link to my faves.

Several hundred marched down Main Street to the ferry terminal on April 7 in support of bringing back ferry service to Yarmouth

Great Crepes

2012-01-05T12:00:00.000-04:00

The Yarmouth Farmers' Community Market has been going gangbusters since it opened last June in a new location. The stone barn on Hawthorn is perfect for it.

With more than two dozen vendors selling everything from veggies, oysters, wine, baked goods, fair trade organic coffee, smoothies, crafts and so much more, it's a great place to connect on Saturday morning.

I always try to find time to trot the three blocks down Forest Street for my weekly crepe, specially made by John Robert.

Watching him craft one of these delectable goodies is worth half the cost. Whether it's a salmon crepe with his special sauce, honey-garlic sausage and egg, a fruit creation with giant blueberries, strawberries, bananas, chocolate sauce and maple syrup, or the "to-die-for" Lobster Newberg - he pours great care into each.

The market is open year round for the first time. But they are taking a two week-hiatus after New Year's, re-opening Jan. 21. I can't wait to sink my teeth into one of those crepes again!

Cycling in the New Year

2012-01-03T05:41:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a day to remember. I decided to take advantage of the spring-like weather and hopped aboard the bike. Temperatures approached 10 degrees and a soft, warm, golden light bathed the landscape.

I rigged up a secure fastener on the handlebars and set off with the iPhone, shooting at least three-dozen clips. In order to add some interest and variety, this meant leaving the phone in a strategic location, hitting RECORD, pedaling back to make an approach, then retrieving the unit.

But all that work was worth the effort. Now I can relive that ride again and again, plus it's a great way to share the beauty we're so fortunate to be surrounded by.

Click HERE for the video

Winter born

2011-12-28T14:43:00.001-04:00

Looks like I won't be enjoying the blooms of my pink heath next March/April. Mother Nature has decided December is a better time to present them.

I'm not alone in seeing spring-blooming plants flower in early winter this year.

At the Annapolis Royal Historic Gardens they had a bonny yellow December daff.

It sure would be interesting to hop in a time machine and check out what's blooming 20 years from now.

A Night at the Nutcracker

2011-12-19T16:55:00.001-04:00

Shooting this year's presentation of The Nutcracker at Th'YARC was an exercise in editing afterwards. In the span of two hours I shot 404 photos.

The lighting fluctuated from moment to moment, the action was fast and I was snapping with no flash. I ended up with a surprising number of usable photos.

This is an event that's always such a delight to shoot. The costumes were marvelous and the talent, superb.

Gingerbread House Dreams

2011-12-16T15:17:00.002-04:00

Visions of sugarplums! Beacon Church was the site of some marvelous construction last week during the Gingerbread House competition.

Teams of four, carefully transformed kits into works of art with the use of pretzels as logs, marshmallows as snowballs, sugar-coated mini-shredded wheat as shingles and many other unique adaptations.

Vigil

2011-12-12T08:00:00.002-04:00


Dad at sister Joanne's wedding

I spent the entire last night of Dad's life at his bedside holding his hand in late November... the darkest month of the year. His battle with lung cancer was a short one. Diagnosed in April, he dutifully received radiation treatments. Chemotherapy was next but his heart rebelled. Home he went.. for a weekend of excruciating pain. Back to the hospital, where a shunt was implanted in his thigh for a regular infusion of relief.

Through that long night I repeated the Lord's prayer aloud many times. I read a touching letter written by my stepsister Patti and her family and told him that his wife Colleen would be okay after he passed.... that she was a strong woman and a survivor and that she loved him very much. I told him he was off on a wonderful adventure and how proud I was of our Goodwin heritage.

Dad trying out the Trikke

I described to him a waterfall splashing into a deep pool. There was a sunken log there and a giant speckled trout, a 14-incher at least, lurking beneath. There was the smell of moss, fir and springtime in the air, and he was standing on the bank, about ready to dangle his line into the water for a sure strike.

My sister Lynn had brought some rosebud chocolates in for him a few days before. Around about 1 a.m. he startled me with a sentence, having been quiet up until then. "Are those chocolates still in that drawer?"

Father's Day at Lynn at Denis's 2010

"Why yes, yes, they are Dad!" I replied, jumping to retrieve them and fishing one out to place in his outstretched fingers. He took it, bit off a piece and placed it in his mouth. Then, as he had been doing all night between periods of wakefulness, he drifted back to sleep. I watched the remaining piece in his hand slowly melt. Concerned it would make a mess, I eventually reached in, gently trying to tug it from his fingers.

He woke with a start, looked at me defiantly and popped it in his mouth.
"Get me another one. Wrap it in kleenex," he rasped again.

I did so. This time he popped the whole rosebud in his mouth, rolling it around, savoring it. He crumpled up the kleenex and pitched it at my face, bonking me on the nose. Playful Dad at his best. I burst out laughing and told him, "Oh, I would SO be doing what you're doing right now if I was in your shoes."

It reminded me once again, how much I am my father's daughter.... I will surely be eating chocolate during the last few hours of my life as well.

These memories I have of my father:

It was summertime and my cocker spaniel, Lady, had a beautiful litter of nine adorable pups. It was a planned birth but there was something we had forgotten to take into consideration.... our annual summer vacation. How in the world could we travel the Cabot Trail now with Lady and her brood?

Dad knew how. He found an old wooden fish crate, secured it in the trunk and loaded Lady and her pups into the back. Off we went. The pups were at their cutest and let me tell you, we were a giant hit at every campground we stopped at.
That was one of my most valuable lessons from Dad. There's a solution to EVERY situation.

Another memory is from several years ago. A pivotal moment in my life. I was struggling with a major decision. HAD been agonizing over it for more than a year. During a visit with Dad, we talked about it. I could tell he was truly feeling my pain. He said to me, with tears in his eyes, "Life is too short to be unhappy." That statement set me free. I made my decision. In the years following, I blossomed in more ways than I had ever dreamed. Thank you Dad.

Frost-busting flower

2011-11-18T16:21:00.001-04:00

A clump of Osteospermum planted in a hollow stump at the base of my back steps doesn't even realize it's winter yet.

Tough little plant keeps throwing out buds and some truly lovely mauve-blended blooms.

You have to admire something like that.

Tune traveller

2011-11-10T14:03:00.001-04:00

Jimmy Rankin

Sanktuary

This is the third year for Yarmouth to host Nova Scotia Music Week. Founded in 1998, the festival was held in Halifax until 2006 when it was decided to move it to other communities.

Liverpool hosted it for the next two years, Pictou County in 2008 then Yarmouth won the bid.

Organizers were so pleased with the reception and enthusiasm of local volunteers, they decided to linger a bit.

These four days are definitely some of the best to be a member of the media. With pass swinging around my neck I was free to pop in and out of as many venues as I had the energy for, trying to catch as many of the 80 performers as I could.

Lots of still shots and video. Helluva lot of fun.

Next year it's back to Liverpool... with likely a few hundred Yarmouthians making the journey for it.


Carmen Townsend

Trick or Treat

2011-11-06T09:13:00.002-04:00

This year, in order to receive a treat, my little Halloween hoodlums had to pose for a picture.

There were over 130 all told.

I think I'll do this again next year.

Many more here.

A Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T14:18:00.001-03:00

It's Halloween eve but we've already had our treats: a Friday evening in Annapolis Royal to experience the Ghost Town event.

We were the only guests at the Queen Anne Inn and enjoyed the place to the utmost. Several glasses of wine with Greg the innkeeper, a bubble-bath in the jacuzzi tub, heavenly sleep between a down mattress cover and duvet in a canopy bed and a three-course breakfast the next morning.

The stroll through the Ghostly Gardens saw us go where no man had gone before - venturing past the intended turn-around point to the darkest trails on the property.

The lantern, we realized too late, had only half an inch of candle left... and the flesh-eating Miguel was likely hot on our trail.

Eventually we find our way to the Witch's Lair and Trish, the manager, arrives to lead us back to where the spooky appetizers were. They were worried about us when we didn't return from the first section. Ha!

There was still a haunted house to see and a graveyard tour, but when we arrived for the latter, we saw that it had already started. So instead, we skulked along behind, tiptoeing from trees to tombstones, overhearing the guide as we remained unseen.

The next morning, a stop at the Winter Farmers' Market and tour of the gardens by daylight. Such a great time. We're already
looking forward to next year's event.

Three-legged joy

2011-10-28T11:56:00.003-03:00

One of the happiest dogs I've ever seen is Levi, the golden retriever owned by the vet who rents a room from me. Every morning I hear his distinctive hop coming down the stairs when she takes him out before work. He hobbles about the lawn with his teddy-bear clutched in his mouth, big grin on his face, tail-wagging. Born with three legs, he could give lessons on how to approach life with a handicap.

A Bowery Kiss

2011-10-25T10:35:00.005-03:00

A spectacular Autumn paddle on Wilson Lake last weekend, the day before Denis headed back to Afghanistan from two-weeks leave. We explored the perimeter through quiet coves... beneath golden oaks and blazing red maples. He and Lynn are SO photogenic :-)

A honey of an apple

2011-10-24T14:48:00.003-03:00

Gerald LeBlanc at Wallace Bros. Farm in Ireton

Spent half an hour with Andy Wallace at his farm in Ireton a few weeks ago on a glorious Autumn afternoon. I was on my way back from taking photos at Port Maitland School and thought I might catch someone picking fruit. Andy drove me to a back orchard where Gerald LeBlanc was plucking apples from sagging branches.

Gerald was a born model and one of the photos I snapped ended up on the front page a few weeks later. Andy described excitedly his success with growing Honeycrisp apples, telling me young trees start producing as early as two-years-old.


Honeycrisp Apples

They fetch six times the price of traditional cultivars. A special tool has to be used to snip the navel twig as the smallest puncture during storage can cause the entire apple to quickly rot.The Department of Agriculture and Fisheries invested $235,000 annually starting in 2005 to replace orchards of McIntosh, Cortland and Gravenstein. About 240 hectares (600 acres) of honeycrisp apple trees were planted over the five-year life of the agreement.

How do you like them apples?

2011-10-11T16:01:00.001-03:00

I was a die hard Mac fan one-month after owning my first. An iMac G4 it was. A work of art. Beautiful outside as well as supremely functional. I was enamoured after seeing this ad:

The Ex, God bless him, was always very generous at Christmas. And in 2002, this beauty landed on my desk. More than a decade later, it still works, though it's now so far out-dated many of the programs cannot handle upgrades. But I have such an appreciation for the many years of service this old faithful provided, I can't bear to throw it.

Apple products are like that. Those who love them, love them a lot. In the beginning, we were viewed as oddballs, we Macintosh users. But gradually, the iPod, iTouch, iPhone and iPad won the masses over. It continues. As of 2011, Apple had become the second-largest company of any kind in the United States by market value.

Will the trend continue after the death of Steve Jobs, "the Silicon Valley maestro" behind these sleek new inventions?

Gawd, I hope so.

Gently leading

2011-09-30T16:49:00.001-03:00

Chip is a young, highly energetic, very strong, English Springer Spaniel that I'm taking care of for a week. It only took one walk with him for me to decide this guy was going to be trained with a Gentle Leader. My arm was darn near pulled off during the outing.

Walking a dog that typically "pulls hard," with a Gentle Leader is like driving a car with power steering. But it's a real job to train them. Lots of people give up because the dog fights it so much in the beginning and it's not something they get used to overnight.

I start by slipping the halter on in the house, fastening it and rewarding the dog with a treat. It's not left on any longer than a minute or two. After removal, another treat is fed and there is lots of verbal praising and pats.

After a couple of these slip on and slip off sessions, with the amount of time increasing gradually to five minutes or so, it's time for a walk outside.

The dog is immediately going to want to rub his face on the ground and paw to get that "blasted thing" off his head. He wants his freedom. He wants to be able to continue to try and yank your arm off.

Keeping him on a short leash, gently but firmly hold his head up and say "NO," every time he tries to paw it off. For every few steps forward without fighting, praise him with words and pats.

In the beginning you're going to have to keep him beside you as it will be easier to keep his head up, but gradually, if you're using a retractable leash, you can give him a little more lead. However every time he puts his head down and begins pawing, deliver a few short jerks (not really hard ones) and say NO. Continue to reward the non-pawing behaviour.

I find the non-fighting episodes are much longer if you are walking the dog in an area where there are a lot of distractions. For me, it's along the waterfront or Main Street.

In the past three days I've probably pulled Chip's head up close to 200 times. He's improved greatly, but still isn't perfect. He'll continue to improve because he's smart. Meanwhile, my arm is blissfully unpunished, and eventually, walking will be much more enjoyable for both of us.

Holy Hayfield

2011-09-29T05:27:00.005-03:00

A great week's vacation visiting Fortress Louisbourg in Cape Breton, driving the Cabot Trail and touring PEI. There was one evening in particular ...

On a trip to the East Point, a golden hayfield was made even more so by the setting sun. During the stop for photos the glow reached its peak.

Memorable.

Go towards the Light

2011-08-29T16:59:00.001-03:00

Tropical Storm Irene turned out to be a big blow in the Yarmouth area with lots of branches scattered about and some fairly good surf.
I drove out to Port Maitland last night and then to the Cape Forchu Light where there was practically a traffic jam. People were flocking to the shore to see the waves, with some estimated to be 15-20 feet.

Bathroom bliss

2011-08-26T14:26:00.006-03:00

When I first moved into the house in 2005, renovating the downstairs was at the bottom of the priority list. I'd ripped up a few nasty carpets to have the original floors restored and painted a few rooms, but nothing major.

Until this summer.

A complete reno of the bathroom is nearly complete, with the relocation of every element: bathtub, sink, toilet, etc.

The result is a giant, deep tub to soak in, a more appealing "flow" to the small room, dual shower-heads, and a water-saving toilet.

I'm in seventh heaven with the tub. It's big enough for two ;-)

Cousin Ivy helps me demonstrate.

Beach Run

2011-08-23T11:54:00.003-03:00

I hope this becomes an annual event. The Maitland Mile was held last Sunday at Port Maitland Beach to raise money for a local swim club.

Participants could run barefoot or wear sneakers. Walkers, kids and dogs were also welcome.

It was held as the sun set, at low tide.

Add caption

I'm not much of a runner, more a kayaker, swimmer, walker, but it was a beautiful sight seeing everyone stretch out, pounding the sand. The first male over the line, Aaron Doucette, went back to encourage a young runner. Sweet.

That's me: sassy

2011-08-18T16:46:00.012-03:00

I haven't had my hair cut since I was 16. That's when the shag was all the rage. That's pretty well what I looked like with it. A rage.

So although I started toying with the idea of changing my hair about a year ago, I was scared stiff to do it.

Would I become known as the bush-head? There was hope in the fact that in the past 10 years I've become a lot more familiar with the benefits of using a lot of "product" in my hair. It captures and holds that curl I've been blessed with, instead of having it disintegrate into frizz. And now I don't brush it 100 times before bed as I used to. I don't brush it at all. Just a quick untangle with a wide-toothed comb and let it dry naturally.

My hairdresser, Gina D'eon, bless 'er heart, was game to give it a go when I finally decided to take the irrevocable step. Man, she did a great job. And I have no regrets. My colleague at work, Tina, calls it "sassy-looking". Others have told me it makes me look years younger. Sis says I should have done it 10 years ago.

Sometimes you hesitate at making a huge change for a very long time. It's great when you finally make the leap and it turns out fine.

Sky Lantern Launch

2011-08-15T07:33:00.001-03:00

A special evening at a friend's camp with the launch of a sky lantern during a full moon....

A trunkful of happy

2011-08-08T13:24:00.003-03:00

I've wanted a kayak for several years now. Almost bought one last summer when I saw them on sale. But then I thought about needing a rack for my car and the struggle I'd have getting it up on top and tying it in place.

Two weeks ago a friend told me about some 8-foot kayaks on sale at Canadian Tire. "They're small, but it's a really good buy," he said. "You should check them out. I think one would fit in your trunk if you laid your backseats down."

The little boats turned out to be so goldurned cute. They were the colour of a beautiful yellowy-orange sunset and nicely designed. At $199, reg $279, they were also a terrific buy. I decided to get one and picked up a paddle too. Yup. My friend was right. It fit nicely in the back of my car... hanging out just a little.

A few days later I pushed it into Lake Milo. Paddled over to the fountains, close enough to see the rainbows, watched flocks of baby ducks bobbing beside me a dozen yards away, snuck up on a cormorant perched on a rock drying its outstretched wings and picked waterlilies for the bow.
Bliss.

A few days later launched from Lobster Rock wharf around 7 p.m. in a light rain. Paddled to the mouth of the harbour until I started to scrape the flats in the low tide. Came back along the shore of Doctor's Island.

I'm looking forward to many, many more excursions. Best $200 I've spent in a long time.

Baltimore sails on stage

2011-08-03T23:37:00.001-03:00

There's a great play underway at Th'YARC in celebration of Yarmouth's 250th anniversary.

The show is based on a true story about a brigantine ship that sailed into Chebogue harbour in 1735. The ship was covered in blood, and everything of value stripped from the vessel.

The director estimates it's taken 1,000 hours of work for every minute of the play on stage.

It's a superb production. You can view a video and more photos by clicking this link.

A Moppie is born

2011-07-31T06:56:00.002-03:00

This year Yarmouth is celebrating its 250th anniversary and included in the long list of happenings is the Moppie Festival. Organizers are hoping to make this an annual occurrence just like the scarecrow festival in Mahone Bay or the pumpkin people festival in Windsor. It started off with one, and took a bit of priming, but the rage caught on.

Tina and I put one together for the Vanguard. It was a lot of fun and only took an hour. Here are some of the others in Yarmouth County.

Sight Seen

2011-07-25T20:51:00.003-03:00

I always questioned giving in to the draw of a pretty face at the nursery in the past. Buying plants in bloom seemed so thoughtless, even lazy, somehow.

But this year, the wisdom of those "impulse" purchases finally dawned. It did so with the blooming of a gorgeous Japanese iris that I vaguely remember buying with a flower on it last year. The bloom quickly faded, but this year it's returned x 2.

There's something to be said for buying a specimen that you KNOW is going to be the exact shade and shape that drew you to it in the first place, instead of relying on an attached tag that could very likely be wrong.

Gather for the ghosts

2011-07-20T15:15:00.002-03:00

Ghost tales, it would appear, are more popular than ever judging by the hundreds who turned out for Ken Langille's Ghost Tour around Yarmouth last night.

I couldn't get over the number of people.

Ken did a fine job. It was fun doing the video of the evening afterwards.

Spinning in a Sea Balloon

2011-07-17T22:14:00.004-03:00

PHOTO BY LAURA MUISE

Went down to the waterfront today to shoot the sea balloon races. It was a slow start for organizers, with few volunteers wanting to step inside the balloon and have it inflated around them to roll into the water.

Watching a few of the girls flipping and bobbing about in their own little see-through globes persuaded me to give it a go.

What a blast. I became oblivious to the outside world, the cheering crowds lining the wharves, the girls nearby in their kayaks. There was only the sunshine, the weird sensation of the water cushioning my every movement, my breathing (somewhat labored) and the quick realization that the crab-walk that seemed to work for everyone else was not going to do it for me.

I finally adopted a throw-myself-against-the-wall technique, followed by a roll. It moved me to the fountain and back again to the wharf after about 15 minutes. FUN!

Click here for video and more photos.

Firepot ambiance

2011-07-15T15:43:00.002-03:00

My sis and bro-in-law gave me a firepot for my birthday this spring and it's lighting up warm still evenings in the gazebo.

It even snaps and crackles like a wood-burning fireplace.

Spades in the shade

2011-07-13T16:17:00.004-03:00

There's a local gardener I've long admired that's turned her very shady property into a plot that's as pretty as a park.

Sue Eldridge on Vancouver Street.
The years have turned her hard work into a truly beautiful achievement.

Cultural feast

2011-07-11T14:01:00.000-03:00

The tri-county multicultural festival was expanded one extra day this year.

Organizers eventually hope to make this a week-long event.

It's hard to say what people like the best - the food, dancing, fashion show or singing.

Web cam connections

2011-07-09T07:52:00.001-03:00

Now people can stay in touch with a few of Yarmouth's most spectacular views 24/7 no matter where they are in the world via the Internet.

Three webcams have been set up. I'm particularly fascinated by the one at the Yarmouth Lighthouse, watching people climb in and out of the giant chair.

Also check out the beautiful scenery from Harbours Edge Bed and Breakfast

and watch the gorgeous yachts coming and going from Killam's Wharf.

Roll out the fun

2011-07-08T14:05:00.002-03:00

The Seafest committee came up with another winner this year - Sea Balloon Races.
Participants have to crawl inside the balloon as it's inflated then learn how to move the thing through trial and error.
The event's bound to draw crowds on the waterfront.
Check out the video.

En plein air

2011-07-05T20:42:00.002-03:00

On the way home from taking Alison, my latest couchsurfer, to the Yarmouth Light last week, we saw this man painting along the shore at sunset.

I thought the sight just as beautiful as the picture he was likely painting.

Cayman Explorer on her way

2011-07-04T11:42:00.015-03:00

This boat drew a lot of attention last week while it was tied up at the dock.

She's being delivered to the Cayman Islands by a Yarmouth captain, Gary Frost.

Built by Chantier Naval Forillon shipyard in the Gaspé, Quebec, the vessel's stern platform descends into the water, enabling divers easy access to a snorkeling site at Stingray City. An underwater light show will illuminate surrounding waters and there's a state-of-the-art sound system on board to provide music for up to 100 dancing passengers.
Sergei Rozin, director of business development for Marineland Tours Ltd, says the company spent $10,000 topping up on fuel here for the journey and also a fair chunk of change at local restaurants.

The Lobster Experience

2011-07-03T10:39:00.002-03:00

I haven't made it out to Stanley's Lobsters yet this year for a lobster supper. Time to get a gang together.

From September 2010 Vanguard

Two brothers on the Yarmouth Bar are planning on making a Nova Scotia experience – steamed lobsters on the beach – even better this summer.
For the past two years Stanley Lobster Company has been encouraging visitors to select their own lobster from tanks on the premises to have cooked on site or packed for carry-out.
Although their business depends largely on the export of lobsters for its primary income, the pleasure that Brian and Ernie Williams derive from serving visitors is obvious.
This spring, despite the doom and gloom running through the lobster industry, Stanley’s is expanding their lobster picnic service.
A 25 x 18 foot shelter is being constructed on the beach behind the facility near a firepit and giant driftwood chair.
“It’s just an area that people can go and gather,” said Ernie Williams.
“Basically everything will still be done out of our kitchen as it was before. Hopefully we can encourage them to take their meal and go up and enjoy the scenery.”
The structure is built on skids and can be moved wherever necessary. It will have a woodstove and tables inside, large windows facing the ocean and a verandah. Lighting will be provided through solar and hurricane lamps.

Brian Williams feels the shelter will attract even more people for the experience.
“Just imagine on a windy, stormy day with big breakers coming in, you’ll be able to stand here and view the rugged coast… the raw beauty of nature. Even on calm days at the Churn there’s always a wave because that’s where the Bay of Fundy and the Atlantic ocean meet.”
Lobsters steamed on site are supplemented by corn on the cob in season, along with strawberry shortcake. Last year, the facility served bus tours in addition to smaller groups.
Ernie Williams says he has no doubts that the lobster fishing industry will survive.
“We just have to take our gloves off and sharpen our pencils – everyone – the fishermen, the dealers, the people that we sell to.
“The recession is affecting everyone – the pound workers, everyone that’s involved in the industry. It’s just a sign of the times; we can’t blame anybody. People are taking the money that they used to go out and splurge a little bit with and just spending it on basic needs,” he said.
The businessmen plan on enjoying much more than monetary gain from the shelter they’ve added.

“I think this is going to be a busy season for us. We meet a lot of people and if you get to be my age, a thank you is far better than a lot of money. It’s the satisfaction of taking a product that’s been abused for years and making it right,” said Williams.
“There’s nothing more satisfying than to see a doubter come in and see them laugh and smile and ask us what we do to the lobster to make it so good.
“It’s a part of what we are - the Nova Scotia hospitality is what we’re pushing. A lot of people leave here with a real ‘feel good’ feeling,” he said.
Williams says that although they can serve lobster year round they are basically targeting the summer months.
Stanley Lobster Company is open from June 1 to Oct. 30, 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. (after 7 p.m. by appt. only) seven days a week.

Happy Canada Day!

2011-07-02T07:36:00.004-03:00

Spectacular summer weather for the festivities connected with Canada Day. I spent the morning roaming events shooting stills and video.

I'm starting to get a handle on making short videos, learning how to combine the two formats, adding text, fiddling with the audio and making smooth transitions. It's a lot of fun and I love doing it.

Good thing, as multi-media presentations are definitely the direction for the future.

Fly away

2011-06-28T11:06:00.005-03:00

WHAP. Something hits the back of my skull. I'm heading down Forest Street with an apricot poodle called Walker and the blow startles me. Here comes the winged attacker again. WHAP.

It's a blue jay and it's divebombing me for some reason. Is there a nest around? I do a 360 and discover why he or she is acting that way. There's one of his kin flapping around in the middle of the street, injured.

An old van is starting to accelerate up the hill a few blocks away. I pull my hood up, walk over to the bird with the dog and try to keep his curious nose away while capturing the poor thing.

He vainly tries to snag a finger with his beak as the other jay hikes up the number of whaps per minute.

"CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO HELP?!" I holler.

I deposit him carefully into a nearby hedge and he hangs there all a kilter. I walk a little farther down the sidewalk and stand there watching. After a few minutes I see a blue jay fly up from the other side of the hedge and land on a branch. Another joins it and their heads are bobbing up and down together. The jay must have just been stunned....

Ah... I've saved it's life then, I think happily.

Walker and I continue down to the waterfront. I decide to return the same way to check on the lovebirds.

Approaching the hedge I spot a jay flopping around at its base. My heart sinks. It wasn't the injured one I'd seen fly up. I sadly pass him by, knowing that a cat would get him sooner or later. I have no cage to keep it in and can only imagine the damage its protector would inflict on me as I carried it away.

A reminder that nature, although so often beautiful, can sometimes be so very cruel.

Poppy pleaser

2011-06-17T07:41:00.005-03:00

"What's that in your garden?" Brenda asked me at dusk last night as we stood in the living room looking out.

I peered at the coral coloured splotch.
"I don't know," I said.
Then I recognized the flower.

Poppies. I don't even remember planting that colour... but it's my favorite. Add another star to this showstopping spring.

Arrival through serenity

2011-06-13T15:24:00.005-03:00

A reenactment of the landing of Yarmouth's first settlers couldn't have happened on a better day or in a better place last week.

Two longboats were rowed through a serpentine watercourse up Anthony Creek in Chebogue to deposit costumed descendants of the first families on a rough plank.

The outfits were very realistic and there was such a calmness and beauty about the day that it was very easy to transport oneself back in time.

The event was one of several that will be taking place for Yarmouth's 250th celebrations.

Google Doodle Dandy

2011-06-10T14:42:00.006-03:00

Love Google's creativity when it comes to their Google Doodles.

The latest one, celebrating Les Paul - an American jazz and country guitarist, songwriter and inventor - encouraged visitors to strum and pick a tune on a realistic fret. You could even record and playback your song.

Google has a collection of tunes that users created using this doodle. Check this one out and when its done, try playing something yourself.

To market, to market

2011-06-07T13:31:00.005-03:00

The Yarmouth Farmers' Community Market has moved into their new location in the big barn on Hawthorn Street.

Last Saturday marked the grand opening. "Isn't it wonderful!, Such a great thing for Yarmouth, fantastic!" was all you heard as you walked around. At least two-dozen vendors were selling their wares and there are plans for more beneath canopies out front.

Fresh bread, oysters, organic meats, jellies, pickles, scrumptious crepes and scones, smoothies, plants and much, much more were available.

As you can see, all the vendors were enjoying brisk business. This is an easy three-block walk from my place. Guess where I'll be Saturday mornings?

Promises to keep

2011-06-05T06:43:00.007-03:00

This is the sixth spring for the property I bought in 2005 and the gardens are beginning to really hit their stride. I woke early one morning last week and walked around snapping pictures, marveling at the beauty of it all.

The existing shrubs that I brought a backhoe in to move have all survived and are thriving in their new locations. The perennials I placed so carefully are spreading as they should. There are blueberries and strawberries forming, clumps of colourful tulips, and rhododendrons and azaleas starting to bloom.

I've given them good soil, fertilized them and kept the weeds away and they are all keeping their part of the bargain.
Now to poke a few dozen annuals in to help fill the gaps for the summer.
It's a blissful place to be.

Rhubarb wrangling

2011-06-02T06:37:00.003-03:00

It had been a long time since I'd chewed the freshly cut end of a rhubarb stalk and felt that overpowering pucker. When a friend invited me to raid his patch I took him up on the offer this spring. I'd forgotten as well the versatility of rhubarb.
My God, you can make rhubarb pudding, crumble, bread, squares, jam and drinks in addition to pies.
The muffins I made are to die for.
Guess who went back and pulled more stalks to chop and freeze....

On the scene

2011-05-25T05:54:00.007-03:00

Photo by Tina Comeau

Didn't have to go far to get the news yesterday. A fellow suspected of home invasion thought he could roof hop his way to freedom next to the Vanguard office. Tina and Fred ran out front when we heard what was going down; I climbed up on top of my filing cabinet, removed the screen from my tiny window and managed to catch some good shots of the action.

Between the officers screaming at the suspect, the police dog barking and sirens blaring, it was a pretty exciting afternoon.

More photos, video and story here.

Sun cups

2011-05-19T16:53:00.003-03:00

It's been a long, wet, soggy May but yesterday this giant yellow thing appeared in the sky.
The petals of these tulips in my front yard seemed to cup the sunshine.

Quack up

2011-04-29T15:20:00.004-03:00

Driving to council Wednesday night I stopped to let two ducks cross the road. When I began to move forward I heard brakes screeching behind me. A glance in the rear view showed a car coming fast. Too fast. AND close. I think I remember stepping on the gas in an effort to outrun him, but no luck.

** B-A-M **

I jumped out and ran back. He and his passenger said they were okay but their car looked to be a write-off. My trunk had popped open, a piece of trim was hanging down on the rear and my muffler had come off its hanger... but other than that, the car seemed undamaged.
The insurance adjuster might tell me otherwise.(I later learned there was $5,000 damage - frame had to be straightened, back panels had to replaced because they'd buckled and entire half of car painted).

I ran back 20 feet behind the other vehicle and picked up seemingly everything that had been in my trunk - two pairs of boots, shopping bags, and a tripod. We pulled into the parking lot and exchanged insurance information, I tied the trunk closed and continued on to council.

I made the mistake of messaging what happened to my co-worker, Tina, who insisted (bless her heart) on driving out to follow me home. We pulled in the driveway and my boss and his wife arrived. Talk about feeling loved.

The next morning when I arrived at work there was an envelope on my desk.

Dear Carla
As president of the International Association of duck lovers I wish to thank you for your wonderful evasive action last night which surely saved a duck’s life. While some people don’t give a duck about a duck I’m here to tell you that even in your circle of co-workers there are members of our secret society.

Duck Union Member Brotherhood (DUMB) for short. But believe me these are extremely intelligent and compassionate duck lovers who will swarm on your house at a moment’s notice to make sure you are ok.

You might recognize them by the duck memorabilia they tuck around their work stations. (There is a Donald Duck PEZ dispenser sitting on the window between Tina and I this morning).

As president I am recommending you for the Duck Lovers Award and making you an honorary member of the Duck a la Orange secret society.
The next time you see a duck fly by a sunset, remember – you saved a motherducker duck.

Thank you

Donald & Daisy

Pretty dwellings

2011-04-21T15:18:00.003-03:00

Sadly, the Blooms by the Sea garden show in Yarmouth only lasted a few years and did not become the annual event that organizers had hoped for.

However it left a few dozen exquisite birdhouses in its wake. Built as fundraisers, these little gems were decorated by local artisans and those who were successful in the silent auction now have them gracing their homes.

I don't own any of these, but am lucky in having some fancy feathered residents.
My property fairly rings with the song of cardinals each morning and I often catch a glimpse of bright red on my arbour as they flutter about.

Sad goodbye

2011-04-20T16:49:00.003-03:00

Held a girl's night last night for my best friend who's getting married and moving away on my birthday next month.

Not a nice present.

Good to see her happy though.

Change please

2011-04-18T16:37:00.004-03:00

Doncha just hate it when a clerk slaps a bill into your hand then piles the change on top?
In the first job I ever had, working as a cashier at the Truro Zellers, the woman who trained me took great pains to make sure I handed back change correctly.

"You do it like this," she said, carefully placing the change in my palm and sliding the bills between my thumb and forefinger.

I remember, exasperated, showing a cashier how to do the exact same thing a few years ago but whether or not she changed her way of giving change, I'll never know.

I guess I could continue to correct the dozens of naive ones I run into annually... but no, instead, I'll suffer silently and just do my best to balance that teetering pile of change.

Wanted: Nice neighbour

2011-04-15T16:06:00.007-03:00

The house next door to me is up for sale. How I wish I had an extra $429,000 just laying around. It's a pretty special place. I've even written a story about it for the paper...

Yarmouth landmark for sale

A house described as a “dream in architecture” in early Yarmouth literature is being sold by the Yarmouth Roman Catholic Diocese.
The building, located at 53 Park St. and referred to locally as the bishop’s residence, was built in the summer of 1892.
Levi Wyman purchased the lot at the corner of Cliff and Park Street from Margaret Jane Corning for $2,112 in 1891.
He operated a grocery store on Main Street from 1875 till the 1900s. In 1913 he sold the house to Seymour Baker, the son of MP Loran Baker.
Baker converted the house into two apartments and interior renovations were made at that time.
A Mrs. Killam and her daughter lived here for a time and later two sea captains: William Martin and M. L. Moir.
In 1954 Baker sold the house to James Kenney who turned it over to the Roman Catholic Church, which had just formed the new diocese in Yarmouth.
A chapel and a vault were added to the building, the latter for church records, not currency.
It became the chancery (business) office for the diocese, with all parishes reporting through it. Over the years the bishop and visiting clergy resided here.
In 2003 all of the offices were moved back to the Saint Ambrose rectory and Father John MacPherson (2003) and Father Henry Smolenaars (in 2010) took up residence in the large Queen Anne revival home.
Father MacPherson recalls a few humorous episodes involving tourists over his eight years in residence. During the summer he was a common sight mowing the lawns of the large property.
“I’ve taken them (tourists) through the house and people have mistaken me for the caretaker or the owner, which I kind of play around with,” he said.
Keeping up the grounds was important to him.
“It was, and is, an important building for the town and I’ve tried to keep the outside looking nice… it is on the walking tour.”
Church functions were held on the property and parish councils have met there for meals. An annual barbecue was held for adults initiated into the church at Easter.
As for its history, Father MacPherson, who has played with the Flying Fathers hockey team, associates the building date with another. He says with a smile, “it was the same year that Lord Stanley donated the Stanley Cup.”
He says the house has a warm atmosphere and has many windows.

“It would be a great place for a bed and breakfast or a place for receptions or office parties,” he said.
Features that make the building stand out include a palladian-shaped stair window trimmed with an elaborate owl design of wood. The round corner tower is offset with a finial emerging from the tower’s peak. The upper floor window is trimmed with a gable and queen’s post truss at the front.
Scalloped woodwork separates the first and second floors and the eaves are trimmed with fanciful dressing.
References in the 1890s Yarmouth Light newspaper referred to it “as being the finest piece of architecture of this class to be found in the Maritime Provinces.”
Stained glass windows and extensive oak woodwork, including carved details by James Doane, can be found throughout the home.

A description from the early 1900s describes the top of the tower as a cozy den, “which might be used as an observatory, so grand a view of sky, land, and sea does it command.”
There are seven bedrooms and five baths in the home, which is listed for sale for $429,000.

No means No

2011-04-08T16:36:00.007-03:00

Oh Zoe, Zoe, Zoe.

WHAT had I gotten myself in for, my scrambled brain wondered, as the little dog yowled and whimpered after being dropped off by its owner.

Zoe is vocal. Very vocal. Was the next eight days to be like this? It was understandable for her to be upset, scared and anxious. In cases like these it's a fine balance between reassuring, cuddling and being firm about ceasing the highly-irritating noise.

The first two days with most dogs I tend are adjustment days. They quickly learn what's permissable and what isn't. A continual high-pitched whimper is not.

I first spoke soothingly to her and patted her to show it wasn't going to be such a bad place after all. Then I began slapping a rolled up newspaper on my leg to make a sharp crack every time she whimpered, saying NO. When she stopped I said "Good Girl". The periods between whimpers grew longer. I did this close to two dozen times consistently.

She turned out to be one of the smartest dogs I've tended and we grew to become best friends. Each night she'd nestle beside me in bed, curled up tight against my back. I missed her when it was time for her to leave.

A solid piece of advice that a dog trainer gave me many years ago during a session I'd taken my Irish Wolfhound to was to ALWAYS "say what you mean, and mean what you say."

I've never forgotten it.

There oughta be a law

2011-03-28T16:03:00.007-03:00

A woman was savagely attacked and badly mauled last Saturday by a pit bull after she passed through two doors uninvited, into a Main Street residence. She's still in serious condition in a Halifax hospital and RCMP haven't been able to question her for a statement. The dog was shot by police to stop the attack as it seemed to be the only recourse.

I condone the actions of the officers but if there's a hue and cry about pit bulls I'm going to come out swinging. I believe, that although some dogs are more inherently aggressive than others, it is the owners that make them vicious. Through lack of training or deliberate baiting, they turn them into dangerous weapons.

Yet some municipalities like Toronto and Guysborough County have banned ownership of these dogs. Even the most docile members of the breed have been condemned to wear muzzles when in public if they lived there before the bylaw.

The Dog Legislation Council of Canada is trying to educate people about non-breed specific dangerous dog laws. Every municipality should adopt these to protect the public... and to put a stop to the ignorance that's out there.

The Man of the house

2011-03-25T16:25:00.002-03:00

From March 22/2011 Vanguard

Robert White chuckles when he recalls the day he moved in to Sunset Terrace, making history as the first man to reside in the previously women-only senior home.

One woman came up to him and said coyly, “I’m the youngest one here.”
“How old are you?” he asked
“80,” she replied.

He says he feels very lucky to land a spot at the residence and loves living there.
“I can walk downtown… I’m having a great time. The bingo every second Thursday is pretty great too,” he said.
White used to live a few streets over at Beacon Terrace. He and his wife Mildred moved in a year after it was built and resided there for 35 years.
Mildred died close to three years ago, shortly before what would have been their 60th wedding anniversary.

White had originally hoped to be admitted into Tidal View Manor but says he was told that wasn’t possible because he is still mobile.
At 89, he still walks everyday, sometimes as far as Forest Street.
His liveliness and animated conversations are entertaining the 16 female residents.
“He kind of perks the place up a bit,” said the matron, Janet Doucette.
“He loves it here,” she said.
Last Halloween one of the staff brought a Henry the Eighth costume from Th’YARC for him to wear.

White’s stories include reminiscences from the past during his 38 years at the old Grand Hotel.
His mother, who raised 12 others in addition to him, worked there for 48 years. He joined her one day to help wash the dishes.
The manager at the time, George Kenney, told him to go out front to work as a bellhop and “make a lot of money.”
He was asked to take a newspaper and tray up to a suite of rooms overlooking the harbour.
“I knocked at the door and someone told me to come in. There was a man with white hair sitting on the bed. He asked me to place the tray on the bureau. He called me sir and gave me a $10 tip. That was in 1947.”
The “man” turned out to be mult-millionaire Izaak Walton Killam. White referred to him as a “nice man.”

Killam had two sisters that frequently stayed at the hotel. The women thought fondly of White, judging by the 40 hotel shares they gave to White and his wife, in gratitude for his service to them over the years.
He recalled how one of the sisters, “Mrs. Rogers” always had a brand new New Yorker.
One day she asked him to park the car behind the hotel.
“I’d never driven a car before. Me in that great big black New Yorker,” he laughed.
In the early days that he worked at the hotel, travellers were charged $7.50 a day for a room. That included “really good meals.”

White says the Sunset Terrace women tease him sometimes, but he gives as good, or even better than he gets.
He describes how a staff member knocks on the door, sticks their head in and says, “Goodnight Robert,” every night.
“One of these nights I’m going to fool them, I’m going to put two pillows in that bed,” he said.

Doucette says with people staying in their homes longer these days, the facility, which has been operating since 1890, will be opening its doors to more men, and couples.
White knows this.
“I hear there’s supposed to be another man coming soon,” said White.
“Competition,” he added with a smile.

Jabberwocky

2011-03-24T07:36:00.009-03:00

"There are two sorts of politicians: those who can talk nonsense on any subject under the sun, and those who don’t need a subject." - Unknown

Looks like another election is in the offing. When I first began working as a reporter I remember my editor sitting there looking at me, then pronouncing, "It's such a shame. You're such a nice, sweet girl ... and you're going to get so cynical."

He was right. I've learned a lot about people over the past decade. For example: when aides call up offering to book time with their politician, nine-tenths of the time it's a fruitless endeavor.

What are they gonna tell us? How bad a job the other guys are doing and how hard THEY will work to solve the problems we're facing in the community?

Some of them can spend 20 minutes telling you that creatively.

But what's the alternative? Something similar to Haiti?

California Girl

2011-03-18T12:30:00.005-03:00

My boss teases me and calls me California Girl now at work. I'm anything but, really. Hardly spent any time at all on the beaches while there. But oh what a trip. It all seems like a dream now:

Taking in the Edwardian Ball with my first couchsurfing host, Ella; the delicious brunch in Malibu and eye-popping tour of canals and Venice Beach with Rob; the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway in a red Mustang convertible, with the top down (natch) and heater blasting... because to tell the truth, it was a mite cold; the quick stop in Salinas that included a sumptuous bowl of cioppino at the Salinas Valley Fish House while listening to my host's husband entertain with his guitar and song; and arriving in San Francisco to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and down curvy Lombard Street.

Here I was fortunate to stay with host Sara, a lawyer, and her partner who works in the high-tech industry. They provided me with a great room off their garage and my own bathroom. A friend of a mutual friend, Chris Bolta, met me in S.F. and took me to dinner the night of my arrival. He also directed me to park in the garage of his building, a huge relief after driving aimlessly around trying to find a cheap spot in this city of $2.75/15 minutes.

The day before I left, Chris took me on a whirlwind tour to the Muir Redwoods park, several beaches (no tsunami despite warnings connected to tragedy in Japan) Haight Street, the Cliff House and Golden Gate Park, with Thai for lunch.

A Sensational Vacation.

LAX Approach

2011-03-04T05:28:00.002-04:00

An Edwardian Ball

2011-03-02T21:42:00.007-04:00

A surreal atmosphere. Aerial artists, contortionists and circus side-show acts. Corset-makers. Giant puppets. Burlesque and dark cabaret. Neo-classical and trip-hop. A blues troubadour and all things Edward Gorey.

Is it any wonder I want to attend the Edwardian Ball being held my first night in Los Angeles? I'm glad one of my hosts let me know this event is happening.

What better way to experience this vibrant, eclectic city.

Special thanks to professional photographer Neil Girling who granted permission five minutes after my emailing him to see if I could use these fabulous photos. Check out his site.

Not forsaken

2011-02-28T16:07:00.004-04:00

Amongst the flurry of funding announcements last week was one connected with the ferry terminal. The feds are pouring $600,000 into infrastructure renovations. The Province may not be willing to help in that area, but the feds will. Good to see movement on that front. Who cares if it's being done to curry possible voters. I don't.

Counting Calories

2011-02-25T15:37:00.006-04:00

I've never thought of myself as a calorie counter. Having to live your life examining the make-up of everything consumed? Not for me thanks.

I'm not fat but I DO like being able to wear sexy spring dresses and swimsuits without looking four months pregnant. A loss of 10 pounds would do me good.

But after trying a few arcane diets - including one focused primarily around a vegetable soup that had to be eaten seven days a week and promised a weight loss of 10-15 pounds (I lost three), I gave up.

My sis has been after me for years to read labels and to pay attention to fat content. In one ear and out the other. But then I stumbled on a website that changed my way of thinking. I know this is going to sound like I'm being paid to promote. But I'm not.

I filled out a profile on Calorie Count and started recording everything I ate. Being on the computer practically all day long makes this easy for me to do, but I can see it would be a challenge for those who aren't. They'd have to record everything in a notebook and update when they get a chance.

It's an amazing program that has impressed me with its design. The database of foods is immense, but in addition, you can enter foods or recipes that are not there and it will give you a nutritional rating from A to F as well as the calorie content, and breakdown of fat, sodium, carbohydrates, cholesterol, fiber, Vitamin C, Iron, Potassium and more. As the day progresses and you enter what you consume, the site tells you what areas you are low in. You can mouse over the graph and suggestions are available for what foods to eat to bump those percentages up.

You can also record your daily activities - everything from vacuuming to sitting at a computer studying or typing. It all burns calories. The goal is to burn 500 calories more than you consume, daily.

Right now I've set a 1200 calorie limit for myself and the weight is slowly coming off - from 145 to 141.4 in one week. The goal is 135. It still allows me plenty of foods to choose from. Having the freedom to select what I want to eat (by checking out the calorie content in the food database) keeps things interesting.

For breakfast I made oatmeal with skim milk, dried cranberries, brown sugar, sunflower seeds, and orange juice. Lunch was Campbells Scotch broth soup and crackers, snack was a banana and supper will be two slices of honey ham, veggies and sweet potatoes.

I know I won't stay on this forever, but it's fun for now, almost like a game. What I'm learning will hopefully last a lifetime. It's taught me the importance of paying more attention to food labels.

Eg: I used to have three or four X-large French Vanilla Cappuccinos from Tim Hortons every week. They amount to 500 calories a shot. Gonna cut back on those.... but I'll still splurge from time to time later on my faves like liquor, chocolate, chips and popcorn!

Depression Series - Battling the Beast

2011-02-18T15:43:00.005-04:00

This series snagged me a national award
from the Canadian Community Newspaper Association

From May 2009 issue of Vanguard

Talk therapy key to coping

Emma remembers the night she took her first pill, wondering what it was going to do to her body…. what kind of monster or zombie she was going to turn into.

“I don’t think I slept for a minute that night, waiting for some sort of strange side effect to present it self,” she said.
After years of coping periodically with successively stronger feelings of sadness and hopelessness, she broke down in her doctor’s office one day, desperate for help.
“I started crying and didn’t stop. I wasn’t able to go to work, it got to the point where I wasn’t able to do the sort of daily things we need to do to function. I couldn’t keep my house clean. I couldn’t go grocery shopping. I didn’t want to get out of bed or shower, or anything like that. It was difficult. I didn’t have the energy and my thinking was - what does it matter anyway?” she said.

Her doctor recommended she go on prozac for depression. The movie Prozac Nation had just come out, and Emma remembers being terrified. Her doctor suggested she see a counselor to help her make the decision.
In addition to the stigma of the disease, another factor that had dissuaded her from seeking help till then was the exhaustion.
“Being exhausted all the time can make someone feel depressed, but one of the symptoms of depression is tiredness. It does make it harder to get help,” she said.
The solitude was hard to cope with as well.
Depression was Emma’s own, personal, deep, dark secret. She finally confided in a friend she met through work that had been open with her about her own depression.
“I knew that she was a very non-judgmental person. I think that’s the only thing that gave me the courage to tell her as well. It helped me to hear that she was going through some of the similar things that I had gone through. It did help to say it aloud to someone other than was being paid to hear it,” said Emma.

“It feels really scary to tell someone. It feels like maybe they won’t understand and they’ll run away from you. But most of the time people will help you to see that you need to get some help to do something about it.”
Even though she was diagnosed 15 years ago it is only during her last, most recent episode of depression that Emma has told people the real reason for her behaviour – dysthymic - a persistent, long, low grade depression with episodes of more severe depression.
She says her most recent episode was probably the most severe she’s had. There’s always a trigger, though it may be hard to discern the root right away. With her, it was the end of a relationship that tipped her “over the edge”.
When she sought help for her latest episode, her doctor recommended she become an inpatient at the mental health unit for six weeks.

“I was terrified to come. In my mind, I know there’s a stigma that goes along with it, but I just thought … it’s really psychotic people that go there, people that are brought there against their will and can’t leave.
“I made them go over and over with me, I’d say, ‘what will happen when I walk through the door, what will happen next, what will happen after that?’ I said, ‘okay, I’m signing myself in, that means I can leave any time I want, right?’ They assured me I could. It’s only after all that, that I had the courage to come in,” she said.
She had faith in the doctors she’d met and felt they were committed to working with her until she felt better.
Talk therapy and medication both played a role in helping Emma become healthier. Now she can chuckle about some of her experiences. She remembers complaining to one of the therapists that she wanted to go home because she was having a bad day.
“He asked me why and I said it was so depressing here, everyone was depressed and he said, where do you think you are, a spa?”
Emma now takes Zoloft and Remeron (both anti-depressants), Buspirone and clonazepam (both anti-anxiety medications), Risperidone (an anti-psychotic, which her doctor is using to help boost the effects of the anti-depressants), and lamotrigine (an anti-convulsant which is also used as a mood stabilizer).
A difficult challenge for those given medication for depression is that it takes several weeks before any difference can be noted.

“You take that first pill and you go home and you don’t feel any different and for a lot of people who are depressed it’s really hard to wait the three or four weeks it might take to notice any kind of difference. So a lot of people just say, this isn’t doing anything for me and they stop. And even after three or four weeks doctors may have to tweak it a little or add another medication, or lower the dosage. You need the strength and commitment to stick with it and that can be very difficult,” said Emma.

The goal is to eventually get to one medication over time with monitored adjustments. However she says she is committed to taking whatever number of medications she needs if it is making her feel better (not feeling medicated, but feeling more like herself).
She says that those who struggle with depression have different words for the disease.
“One woman calls it the Beast, or the Darkness, I refer to it often as seeing things through my depression lens. I know when I’m not depressed, that when I’m depressed I see everything through that lens and it distorts everything. But when I’m there, when I’m in the middle of it, I feel like that’s the truth, that’s the real way of seeing the world.”
“It does really affect the thinking,” she said.

Emma recalls watching an Oprah show one day and listening to a person with mental illness talk about how they stopped taking their medication and things became worse.
“Oprah said in her matter-of-fact way, ‘I don’t understand that. If it’s working, why do you stop?’ And it just made so much sense to me. I finally sort of got it. That was my Ah Ha moment,” said Emma.
Getting better takes commitment, she says, and a big part of that is having good professional support and not just a prescription to go home on your own and wait three or four weeks to see if it’s going to make you feel better.
Talk therapy is just as important if not more so than medication, she says.
“I don’t think everyone needs medication, but I think everyone needs therapy or counseling. Even for people who aren’t depressed, I think there’s definitely a benefit to having someone you can talk to who is going to be objective and doesn’t have any motive behind what they are saying to you. Someone who has been trained in how to listen to you and reflect back to you what you are saying and how you might be able to look at it differently and work on changing things,” she said.

Finding a counselor or therapist that you feel comfortable with sometimes takes time. It’s a relationship that requires chemistry. Emma tried several before she felt connected and knows of others who tried one and then gave up on the whole idea.
Although she is on the road to recovery and committed to staying healthy she admits she’s terrified of another episode.
She’s learning skills from her counselor to help identify triggers, early signs and symptoms. It’s helped her to work on a concrete plan. The other thing that reassures her is having counseling support and a support group in the friends and family she’s told.
“What I’ve learned is to tell them what signs they will see when I am getting depressed,” she said.
“My personal hygiene starts to go. I don’t want to floss my teeth anymore. I think what’s the point in flossing? Then some days I’ll start skipping washing my hair. I don’t care to dress as nicely for work. Then I start to withdraw from friends and family too. Not wanting to communicate as much because I don’t want to burden them,” she said.

She becomes overwhelmed too, with daily things: doing the dishes and going grocery shopping.
She feels sad for people who don’t have a support network because going through this is “terrifying”.
“I think that for a lot of people, just making that leap and asking the people that do care about them for help, opening up to them, as in my case, can really create that network.”
She says she does obsess about things sometimes in an “all or nothing” sense. If she feels like cleaning the house she’ll decide she has to do every single little thing from top to bottom, sort through drawers, wash the floors, etc. Then it becomes overwhelming and because she can’t do everything on that list she doesn’t do any of it.
Emma’s eyes are lively and she looks comfortably relaxed and composed during the interview. She’s witty and articulate. But when people tell her she’s “getting there” she gently corrects them.

“Actually no, I’m not getting there… that’s one of the things I’ve learned with all the reading and studying over the past few weeks. There’s no ‘there’. That’s one of the things that I think people who have depression keep thinking. If I just write in my journal enough or if I read enough self-help books, I’ll get there, where happy people are. There is no “there” and I think it’s important for people who are depressed to realize that. Happiness comes with the choices you make on a daily basis, by working at it. It takes work. I think often that people who are depressed think that happy people are just happy all the time. I’m sometimes resentful of that. I don’t understand how people can go about their lives as if anything matters,” she said.
“I’ve learned that along with that whole ‘there is no there to get to,’ that all I can say is today was a good day, or even this, right now, is a good moment. It doesn’t matter how I feel this evening. What matters is right now I’m feeling good and I’ll enjoy that. I think we also get scared of happiness. Because it also means that if I let myself get happy, then I have expectations of continuing to be happy and I’ll feel it even worse when I’m feeling sad. I think in some ways we can be our own worst enemies.”

Her time as an inpatient has allowed her to concentrate on learning more about depression. Instead of dealing with the draining responsibilities of day-to-day duties and work, she’s used her energy to study and focus on feeling better.
“I know that it’s an illness and I know that it will come back. But I think the more work that I do in between episodes the better I’ll be equipped to deal with it when it comes.”
For those who think they have depression, Emma advises they seek professional help in whatever way they feel comfortable, whether it’s from a mental health counselor or their family doctor AND to tell a friend or a family member that you trust.
She hopes the stigma of mental illness will someday disappear.
“If somebody has diabetes or heart disease it’s okay for them to say it and to get help, and people think they’re strong for going and getting help. But I think it’s because there’s that stigma with mental illness, people think it’s not going to be seen as being strong to go and get help, it’s going to be seen as being weak.”
She believes it’s very important for people in depression to know that there are people who have felt that way, who are feeling that way now.
“You might be in a grocery store and feeling depressed and the person behind you might be going through the same thing, or the person in the next office.”
There are good books on depression as well. Emma remembers reading one written by a psychologist who had experienced the disease and was able to verbalize it well.
“Reading it was so affirming for me. I was reading it and thinking, that’s exactly how I feel, that’s exactly how I see the world. That’s one of the things that helped me the most,” she said.

Recommended reading:
Undoing Depression (Richard O'Connor)
The Self Esteem Workbook (Glenn R. Schiraldi)
The Feeling Good Handbook (David Burns)
Mind Over Mood (Greenberger/Padesky)

Websites:
http://www.depressionforums.org: chat groups and forums to ask/answer questions
http://www.depression.com
http://www.undoingdepression.com
http://www.have-a-heart.com: helping a depressed friend, family member
http://www.cmha.ca
http://www.helpguide.org
http://www.ourhealthyminds.com
http://www.moodtracker.com: on-line mood journal, on-line tool to keep track of medications, can send you reminders for taking medications, can send messages to friends when you need help/support.

Happy feet

2011-02-17T15:18:00.005-04:00

It's funny how excited I am about my new footwear. Tired of walking to and from home at lunch on slushy sidewalks in suede and ending up with damp tootsies, I decided I wanted a new pair of bright red rubber boots.

Toss the black for once!

Found this pair at the Mahone Bay Trading Company last weekend, half price.

Bring on the April showers!

California here I come

2011-02-04T14:35:00.005-04:00

It's time for another couchsurfing adventure. California's calling. The furthest west I've ever been is Winnipeg and the idea of cruising along the Pacific Ocean in March is a clincher.

The plan is to touch down in Los Angeles for two nights, pick up my rented Mustang convertible and spend several days driving up scenic Route 1 to San Francisco. Fly home from there.
Can't wait to see Big Sur (above).

The dog days of winter

2011-01-30T11:04:00.009-04:00

When clients arrive, their dog most often explodes out of their car, racing to greet me at the door.
Wow. That must be some great place to stay.
It is.

At least one romp a day in the ball park, usually other dogs to play with, regular meals and lots of conversation and scruffles.

This has been the busiest winter yet for dogs. Most days I have three, some staying for at least 10 days. It's a big responsibility and a schedule is important. The job can be pretty entertaining though.

Take this morning for example. Mickey, a toy poodle with a joker paint job (face divided neatly into half-white and half-black) had dibs on the bed with me, seeing as that's what he's used to at home.

I let each dog out the bedroom garden door individually to pee at 6:30 a.m. The trip to the ballpark wasn't going to come until later. 'Round about 7:30 a.m., the three biggest - Margot (Dogue de Bordeaux), Texas (golden retriever), and Duke (black lab), conferred and decided the playdate should be moved up a few hours.

They surrounded the bed but Mickey was having none of it. He flew from side to side, growling at each until they, subdued, lay down and fell asleep again.

Tough times

2011-01-21T15:25:00.007-04:00

Another blow to Yarmouth. Rodd Resorts stuck it out last year with their two hotels in town but threw in the towel on the Colony Harbour Inn shortly after it was announced there would be no ferry again in 2011. Can't blame them really. They are taking a beating. Another 20 people out of jobs. And other business cutbacks are happening in the area.

My hackles rise when I hear people say derogatory comments about this place I'm so passionate about. There are so many wonderful things here: the people, the historic homes, the museums, the art galleries, Rudders, the B&Bs, the cycling and hiking trails, the beaches, the LOBSTER, the windmills, the Mariners Centre, the YMCA, the fishing fleet, the rivers and lakes, and so much more.

I've heard people say that Yarmouth is being eaten away bit by bit by NDP cancer. Its decision to stop subsidizing the ferry link, which can bring upwards of 100,000 visitors to Nova Scotia, was devastating. The service should be viewed as infrastructure, the same way a road to the US would be.

It seems all I hear lately is a church bell sounding the death knell. Could be because it's a tough winter on the elderly, but it's filling my head with other thoughts.
Time to move?

Not on your life. I'd miss, amongst a thousand other things, seeing the cheerful flame in Tony's huge oven at Old World Bakery and walking inside for freshly baked blueberry muffins and coffee made from beans roasted onsite.

Vive La France

2011-01-14T09:13:00.006-04:00

My first couchsurfers of 2011 arrived in a snowstorm after nine hours on the road. Not a great day to explore the Lighthouse Route, they decided, after travelling to Peggy's Cove. After a bowlful of spicy chili, the four of us sloshed our way down to Rudders at 9 p.m. where there was one car in the parking lot. They enjoyed sampling the brews though and treated me to a couple of Old Sams.

Thomas, Anais and Gregoire are from France. There were lots of giggles as we fumbled through each other's languages. Their English is much better than my French.

In the morning I left a basket of freshly baked oatmeal/honey/apple/cheese muffins on the table for them.

A fun trio to start off the couchsurfing year, people I would love to spend more time with. They've invited me to France, so who knows? :-)

A trucker in every sense of the word

2011-01-10T16:01:00.007-04:00

The sound of the powerful engine increases to a low growl. Shift. Slowly the big truck gains speed on the snow-covered highway. Shift. Another 20 feet. Shift. The driver's hands and feet work in unison. Shift. A little faster now. Shift. With no grinding or jerking. Shift. Check the mirrors.
Shift.

Andrea LeBlanc landed short-term work after losing the job she held for 15 years as a driver for the Same Day courier service. A lay-off from downsizing.
In January 2010 the reality of joblessness hit this mother of two young girls.
“I went home and pulled the covers over my head,” she said.
A good friend and former work colleague, John MacKinnon, called and told her it was time. Time to pursue her dream of becoming a trucker like him.
He reminded LeBlanc of the first time she climbed the stairs and sat beside him in his truck for a visit.
“ I told him, I’m going to sit there someday,” she said, pointing to the driver’s seat.
She decided to try for her airbrake licence, a written test she could take in Yarmouth. After securing that, she wrote and passed the admission test for the Commercial Safety College in Masstown.
But then she learned she wasn’t eligible for government funding for displaced workers. Without it she wouldn’t be able to afford the tuition fee
“I was devastated. My world was over again,” she said.
MacKinnon called the same day and told her to drive out to the “shop”, Avery’s Trucking Inc. in South Ohio.
“I said why? He said, ‘We’re going to Toronto’.”
It was Easter weekend. LeBlanc was to receive her training on the road.

Airbrake licence holders are permitted to drive a big rig without a trailer. They can also drive one hauling as long as a licenced driver accompanies them.
On the back roads of Ontario in Amish country MacKinnon pulled over and told LeBlanc she was driving.
Crunching and grinding her way through more than a dozen gears, she gradually got the hang of it. The two loaded on pallets of nursery stock and dropped them off in northern New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.
MacKinnon made her drive again from Bridgewater to Wolfville.
There were a few more trips with other drivers. In between she bobtailed (drove with no trailer) up and down the roads of Yarmouth County, shifting repeatedly until it became second nature.
On May 17 she earned her Class 1 masters.
The next day the phone rang at 3 a.m. for her first dispatch - the Shelburne wharf for herring.
“I’ll never forget it. I parked in line and started walking down the wharf and you could see the heads turning and I heard one of them say, ‘That was a woman!’ When I backed under the first seiner the crew was smiling at me and I said ‘Good morning, boys’.”
For the next three to four months she hauled herring locally for Scotia Gardens.
Her heart was set on driving to Boston, though she’d never been there.
“The most I knew about Boston was that my beloved Celtics were there,” she said.
“I had no idea on how long it took to get there. I didn’t have a clue as to what I was getting in to. Boys oh boys, I know now.”
When she had a chance to join trucker Mitch (Capt.) Nickerson, a former fisherman with 30 years driving experience, on his trip to Boston in July, she took it.
Nickerson went to bed in back and made her drive to Calais, Maine. After their deliveries in Boston she remembers emerging from the city tunnel feeling a soaring sense of peace.
“I just looked around and this feeling of calm went over me. This is where I’m meant to be. I felt all the tears, the hard work, it’s all paying off right now.”
She is enormously grateful to Nickerson.
“He took me under his wing and made me what I am. It’s what he taught me mentally. That stuff can’t be learned in school.”
On her first solo trip to Boston in August LeBlanc wrapped a pole in Kennebunk, Maine. It was a dark night, she was unfamiliar with her boundaries and took her eyes away from her mirror for a split second.
“I wound up in a whole lot of trouble. I wanted to give up. I didn’t want to go again. I told them to just leave me in Yarmouth,” she said.
Her mentors, Nickerson and MacKinnon, knew they had to get her back on the road. Accidents happen to every trucker when they first start out. The second trip was better and LeBlanc’s confidence returned, further cementing the belief that others had in her.
“I’ve got a lot of men around here that can’t do half the job she does,” said Nickerson.
“We don’t treat her no different than we do a man. It happens with everybody.”
LeBlanc says her mirrors have become her best friends. She’s completed over 20 trips now, typically lasting three days each.
The rig becomes a home away from home with a TV, microwave, fridge and satellite radio. She talks on the set (C.B. radio) to pass time… a lot of time.
“There’s no sleep for the weary, you’ve got to go. You get off that boat in Saint John at 7:30 p.m. and you're hammer down until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning when you arrive in Boston, then you’ve got to unload,” she said.
The wage isn’t as good as what she used to make driving as a courier, but she loves the job even more. She’s highly cognizant of the responsibility connected with driving up to a million dollars of truck, trailer and cargo.
LeBlanc’s only seen two other female truckers; one in Quebec fueling up and another loading onto the Digby ferry.

“I’ll do this until they put me down, says the soon-to-be 40-year-old. She continues to credit others.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it if it wasn’t for Donnie Michaels (her partner). His support has been overwhelming. Not a lot of people get to live their dream.”

Winterthyme

2011-01-07T14:37:00.005-04:00

It will be interesting to see how my experiment in gardening turns out. Or rather, to see how much abuse and damage creeping thyme can withstand and recover from.
After the flagstone walkway was put in last spring I planted chunks of many different types of thyme in between the cracks. They did quite well, spreading onto surrounding stones.
But now winter is here and everytime there's a snowfall, however light, the covering must be removed by either sweeping or shovelling.
As you can imagine, it's doing a job on the plantings. Some tender, loving care in the form of liquid fertilizer is called for come spring.

Apple - best of the crop

2011-01-05T15:31:00.007-04:00

After returning from my UK/Republic of Ireland vacation I selected my favorite photos to make an iPhoto book. It was to be a tangible keepsake of my amazing adventure - a glossy, full colour, hard-cover, coffee table book.

I spent several weeks arranging my photos just so, picked out the forward I wanted and didn't even pay attention to how many pages I added, at extra cost for each. This was to be my prize souvenir. After reviewing it carefully many, many times, I clicked the submit button and off it went. A 48-page book costing $65, taxes and shipping included.

The book arrived and it was beautiful... except the first page - with the quote I'd so carefully selected, and the other side full of photos - was missing.

Slightly disappointed, I emailed Apple and explained the problem. Within 10 days they reprinted the book correctly and shipped it to me at no charge.

Apple... you're the BEST.

Happy New Year to 94

2011-01-03T15:34:00.005-04:00

"Papa Joe" was a special guest at cousin Ivy's New Year's Day get-together. Close to 30 cousins, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, aunts and uncles gathered round to wish this witty, wise, man a happy birthday.

He was 94-years old on Jan. 1, but you'd never know it. He described how just the other day he knelt on bended knee in front of a woman several years his senior to ask her blessing.

2011 - A balmy beginning

2011-01-03T10:25:00.005-04:00

Close to 30 Polar Bear dippers had great weather for their dunk to start the New Year. Temperatures hovered around 7 degrees Celsius, much better than last year when volunteer firefighters had to chop a hole in Lake Milo ice for the hardy souls.

Brenda Adams, past president of MADD, participated in her wheelchair. She received rousing applause as volunteer firefighters hauled her back out of the water.

Year in Review

2010-12-30T13:19:00.005-04:00

I really look forward to reviewing photos at the end of the year for our annual Photo Essays.
The collection drives home the breadth and scope of the issues and events that we cover in a 12-month period.
Whether it's a gorky angle of a llama at the exhibition Petting Zoo...

Catching a clown spreading bubbles along the parade route....

The dissection of a shark during the annual Shark Scramble on the waterfront...

Or the collapse of a bridge due to flood conditions after record-setting
rainfall.

See all 70 photos in my Year in Review by visiting here.

A Christmas Day stroll

2010-12-26T23:22:00.003-04:00

Pine Grove Park covers 48 acres on the banks of the Mersey River in Milton.

Christmas Day was ideal for exploring it with son Chas, Dad, step-mom, sis and bro-in-law.

To think I almost never brought the camera.....

Mustangs at Chebogue Point

2010-12-14T10:16:00.004-04:00

Curious, the five geldings and a mare step forward cautiously, checking out the photographer. Investigation complete, they turn back to grazing the grass, still green in December.

The property overlooking the mouth of the Chebogue River may be a far cry from the beaches of North Carolina, but it will suit these horses just fine, says the woman who brought them here.

Rachael Grout has been a supporter of the mustangs roaming the Outer Banks of North Carolina for several years.
On more than one occasion Rachel Grout says she spoke on behalf of retaining the land designated as a sanctuary for the wild horse herd of approximately 130 that have roamed the beaches for close to 500 years.
Concerned about continued encroachment, Rachel and her husband Stephen moved to the Chebogue Point Road in mid-October with six rescued mustangs. Although they lease 72-acres, they hope to buy the property within the next two years and turn it into a mustang sanctuary.
“This place is perfect. Even though they don’t have the sand, they can run up and down these hills and get all the exercise they want,” said Grout.
“We wanted someplace coastal where they could live their lives out,” she said.
Grout does consulting work and technical writing research from home. Her husband works for an Annapolis Valley contractor.
A red 1995 Hummer is parked in front of the house. The vehicle is under repair. Grout, who learned most of her mechanical skills from her brother Raphael, says so far the brakes, half-shafts, rotors, and ball joints have been replaced, and electrical work is underway.
“There are some fuel issues right now but once we get it running, this winter if there’s a really big storm, I’m going to contact the hospital, police and other emergency departments just to let them know that if someone need to get around in a blizzard, we will help,” she said.

Although plans have not been finalized, the couple is considering using their land as a farm for the immediate future, possibly bringing in sheep for the 25-acre island that’s part of the property.
The lone mare in the mustang herd, Keona, was born after Hurricane Isabel. Badly deformed because her mother lacked nutrition, you could actually count her ribs says Grout.
“I’d done a lot of research on how to put natural weight on and fed her sea kelp, rice, bran and flax seed. In three months she was just fine,” she said.
A large shipping container will serve as a storm shelter this winter. Donations of fence posts or hay rounds would be gratefully accepted says Grout. For more information visit her website.
Visitors are welcome, but advance notice is required.
The horses have never had a saddle on them.
“People have asked me, what benefit do you get out of this and I say, I get to watch them, and they’re free. We’ve given them their lives back,” she said.

The Bower beribboned

2010-12-08T16:40:00.005-04:00

Variety is the spice of life.
Thus there shall be different holiday trappings for the verandah this year than last.

A few pots full of shrub branches decked with lights, a spotlight on the entrance, pine and bow gatherings on the step posts, ivy and bow on the gate and... I'm done.

Wine and cheese pleasers

2010-12-06T15:13:00.005-04:00

Sis and bro-in-law hosted a wine and cheese event at their home in Liverpool for his armed forces co-workers and I drove down to help. I can learn a lot from my sis - entertainer extraordinaire.

It was a fun afternoon and has put me in the mood for a similar event that I think I'll host in January, after all the Christmas hubbub has subsided.

A tapas taste-fest, with everyone bringing their favorites along with copies of the recipes to take home.

Dumping day wishes

2010-11-29T16:07:00.008-04:00

Today is dumping day, an event that sees hundreds of lobster fishing boats departing wharves in Southwest Nova at 6 a.m. Thoughts are of the fishermen - close to 1,700 licence holders and their crewmembers - as they set sail on vessels heavily loaded with traps.

It has become a tradition for residents to gather at the Yarmouth Lighthouse at 5 a.m. to cheer the Yarmouth fleet as they depart the harbour. Bread pudding, muffins and coffee are served, a reverend blesses the fleet via VHF radio and everyone waves their flashlight as the boats head out to sea.

I think of my cousin Russ and his two sons aboard the Scalded Witch out of Argyle, and the week I spent aboard last year banding lobsters. By the end of it I'd developed a painful ganglion on my right hand from snapping rubber bands on thousands of claws.

Other than that, I loved it, even though it's one of the hardest, coldest, wettest, most tiring, and dangerous jobs I've ever worked. And I had it the easiest. Ryan and Eddie had to stand outside in the weather, guiding the line hauling the trawl - a rope with sometimes more than a dozen traps tied to it - and snagging it quickly on the hauler, yanking each trap in succession onto the rail, emptying it of lobsters and trash fish, rebaiting it and pulling it around to the stern for resetting.

The latter is the most dangerous part of all, when the first trap is thrown in and the captain guns the boat to yank the rest in. As this is happening, dozens of yards of rope attached to the traps are whipping about the deck and the fishermen are doing a deadly dance. Drownings have resulted from not doing it fast enough.

It would be impossible to talk to anyone in Yarmouth, Digby or Shelburne counties that couldn't name at least half a dozen family members or friends involved in this industry. It's the economic engine that drives this region.

As of 4 p.m. today there had been no reports of loss or serious injury. All of us here on land hope the good news continues for the entire season, which ends in May.

Landlines lost lines

2010-11-22T14:45:00.004-04:00

The lure of the new iPhone 4 is reeling me in. Today I called up to see if Eastlink had a package for Internet and cable service alone. How much would I save if I cancelled my landline - ergo - how much would that chop the monthly bundle packet price for the glamorous must-have?

Do we really need a landline in this age of mobility? I think not. Hate to be roped into a three-year contract again. But arrrgghhhh..... I love new technology. Sis has one. Son has one. I want one!

Added incentive is learning that discontinuing your landline bamboozles telemarketers... at least for a little while.

And the tunes came pouring down

2010-11-15T11:04:00.003-04:00

The weekend of the torrential rains and subsequent flooding in Southwest Nova, a giant musical event was held in the Yarmouth area for the second year in a row.

Nova Scotia Music Week featured over 80 acts at 11 different venues. It's times like these that having a media pass is a delightful perk.

Last year's event pumped approximately $700,000 into the local economy. Event organizers have submitted a strong bid to host the event for 2011 - a great accompaniment to Yarmouth's 250th anniversary celebrations.

Widespread flooding in Southwest Nova

2010-11-09T06:22:00.006-04:00

At least one bridge has collapsed and others are in danger of doing so. Close to two dozen roads are impassable due to washouts and gullies. Several dams in the region are on the brink of breaching. Families have been evacuated in two communities due to the danger of flooding.

At least 200 mm of rain poured down on Southwest Nova over the weekend. The repercussions are continuing to unfold as swollen rivers rush towards the sea.

Tina and I have been driving the countryside documenting it all, in addition to some great contributions from residents.

Here are some of the stories:

Over 200 mm of rain.... and counting

Monday Morning Rain Hangover

Neighbour to a bridge collapse

Tusket Bridge is Gone

Tough Love

2010-11-03T16:15:00.006-03:00

Carol Denomme is spreading the gospel on proper dog training techniques. When I asked her what the biggest problem was between dogs and their owners, she told me "lack of leadership".

“People are looking to get from their dogs what they are lacking from people," she said.

"They bring a dog into their life to be the listener, to replace children that are gone, or a husband that’s divorced. They’re looking to their dogs to be that connection and it’s difficult because a dog doesn’t live that way,” she said.

The dog begins to think it has to take care of this unstable pack member. They’re the ones you see dragging people down the street, barking at everything and trying to bite at other dogs to keep things away.

“We’ve created the problems that exist. Once you understand that it is a dog – I’m not saying don’t love your dog but treat it as a dog -most of those problems are going to go away,” said Denomme

I agree with her wholeheartedly. I've seen too many owners who haven't taken the time or hesitate to assume the role of "top dog" in the relationship and instead, let the dog do whatever it wants.

Obedience training is so important. A well-trained dog is a joy to behold - a true credit to its owner. Carol opened Atlantic Canine Outfitters on Main Street in Yarmouth this summer and also breeds Boerboels.

Ryan Cook - a rising star

2010-10-31T12:14:00.008-03:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a feature on Ryan Cook and the release of his new CD - Peaks and Valleys.
His show at Th'YARC last Friday night was the second stop in his nation-wide tour.

This singer/songwriter is a natural showman. I was laughing out loud along with everyone else at some of his jokes and stories.The standing ovation at the end of the show pulled them all back out on stage for another three songs.

His outstanding talent and great choice of back-up musicians (Brad Reid on clarinet, fiddle, piano and guitar, and Jason Burbine on upright bass) made for a highly enjoyable evening.

Rise on Ryan!

Home (Friday, Oct.1)

2010-10-25T21:55:00.010-03:00

6 a.m.: I slip as quietly as I can from Siobhan's apartment and lock the door behind me only to realize that I've left my file folder on the other side. Hating to do it, I ring the doorbell. She appears a minute later in her housecoat.
"No problem", she assures me in her soft, Irish accent.

God, whoever gets her as a nurse in the future is going to be so lucky.

Transport trucks and buses are the only vehicles on the road this morning and I'm wedged between going through the Dublin Port Tunnel. Close to 3 miles long, I thought it would never end.

Now begins the circus of turning in the rental car. I end up parking the thing in a corner and running around the block to confirm the entrance to the Budget compound. A guy comes out and looks the car over, I hand him the paperwork and into the airport I go.

The security at Dublin airport is much greater than at Heathrow. Several times an official comes up to me while in line asking to see my boarding pass and passport.

I feel like a pancake between two large men seated on either side of me for the entire seven and a half hour flight. Eating has to be accomplished with elbows tucked tightly in. Forget the idea of snoozing. I'd end up with my head lolling onto their shoulder.

Newark is a fiasco. Flights all around us have been delayed or cancelled. Staff making the announcements sound anything but professional. I've got a six-hour layover here and resolve to try to avoid the same if at all possible forever in the future.

We board, miraculously on time, but then sit on the tarmac for an hour as delayed planes supersede us. The pilot announces that because of the anticipated severe turbulence there will be no inflight service.

Airborne, I feel a cyclical rumble beneath my feet that I've never felt before on any other flight. Does anyone else feel that? Is this normal? I sit there and say the Lord's Prayer and think to myself, well.... if I DO go down, I've had a terrific past two weeks.

At 10:30 p.m. we touch down in Halifax, an hour past the original arrival time. My poor Dad, who's 70+ and usually in bed by 9 p.m. has driven from Truro in a rainstorm to fetch me. I walk up to the customs agent.

How long have you been away?
Two weeks.
Was the purpose of your trip pleasure or business?
Pleasure
Do you have a job here in Canada?
Yes.
What do you work at?
I'm a reporter.
Do you have any relatives or friends in the UK?
I do now.

He smiles and pushes the passport back.
Welcome home.

Hoofprints in the sand (Thursday, Sept. 30)

2010-10-22T15:28:00.016-03:00

In 2007 my sister and brother-in-law treated me to trail-riding in Grosetto for my birthday during our vacation in Tuscany. The experience turned out to be so dictatorial we ended up in hysterics behind the guide's back. He was undeniably Hitler's great, great grandson. Watching his procession of riders like a hawk, he'd scream out of the blue: ATTENZIONE!!!
Once he had that, he'd bellow again.
TROTTO!!!

Boing. Boing. Boing. Boing. We'd all bounce along obediently. Me just dying to cut loose and gallop with the wind in my hair. Never happened. Once, where the trail split round a tree, I deliberately went on the side no one else took. Boy was he mad. I thought he was going to tether my horse to his right then and there.

So after I bid my farewell to Kate and thanked her for the lovely hospitality I crossed my fingers and drove close to 45 minutes out of my way to Ballyconneely. Maybe things would be different here.

The Point Pony Trekking & Horse Riding Centre is located next to the Connemara Championship Golf Links. The weather gods are having a wrestling match today with strong winds, sunshine, rain and fast moving clouds playing tag with each other.

I'm the lone rider and Anne Steyaert puts me aboard Monty, her good Dales pony. We both look doubtfully at my big Nikon with its awkward case. Anne promises to take photos instead with her point and shoot and email them to me (they're in my inbox when I arrive home two days later).

We talk about several subjects during the lovely ride through the moors and when she hears my description of couchsurfing she says she'll likely sign up. She tells me of finding notes in bottles on the beach, some from Newfoundland. A young boy they responded to said they had made his day he was so happy to hear from them.

We trot several times. For those of you not familiar with riding, it's by far the most uncomfortable gait, with your butt slapping hard against the seat approximately 30 times a minute. You post to counteract the abuse. That helps a bit, but still, a canter or gallop is much more comfortable.

After half an hour, enough time for Anne to see that I don't fall off easily (I've owned several horses in the past), I broach the subject.

"Anne..... do you think we could canter a bit?"
"Sure," she said.
We transition from trot to canter and it's wonderful. The sound of the hoofs, muffled on the soft ground, but with that distinctive cadence that I'd missed for so long. It was over all too soon.

"There's a good long beach up ahead where we can really let them gallop," Anne then said.
"Really?!"
"You'll have to hold him in though because he loves to run and is going to want to be first."

She's right. Monty throws his head up when I give him rein and I have to plant my feet firmly in the stirrups and stand. With each hand holding a fistful of leather, I pull back with nearly all my might to hold him firm and in check. We are flying across the sand. There's a grin on my face from ear to ear. Decades have passed since I've ridden like this.
It. Is. Glorious.

The experience was worth every pence of the 30 pounds I leave. Anne's good to take the notes from me as I hadn't changed my money over to euros as I should have for the Republic of Ireland.

Galway bound and the road gradually becomes wider. I whip through four or five roundabouts like a pro (Naomi and Mark would have been proud of me) and get on the M6 for Dublin. Halfway there I pull over in one of several parking/resting areas when I feel an overwhelming tiredness. It's a practice I'd adopted during these long hours of driving - a 15 minute cat nap works wonders. I park in front of a woman who's sitting sideways with her door open, head bowed, a pool of vomit between her feet.

Dublin. My last stop. Siobhan, a nurse living on the Strand Road next to the beach, has agreed to keep me overnight. But first I have to find her. Deep into the city I go, parking by the Jury's Inn and walking over the ped bridge to city centre. After finding the Dublin Tourist Information Centre and establishing which roads I should take to reach Siobhan, I stop for supper. Dublin is a vibrant place, the sidewalks crowded with young people, likely many from Trinity College, and well dressed professionals.

Night is falling quickly by the time I arrive at a garage near what I think is Siobhan's place. The guy behind the counter won't allow me to use his phone. Will my UK Three phone still work? It does and Siobhan greets me with a hug at the door a few minutes later. She, her roomy and I talk for less than an hour then it's off to bed for all of us. She's got an early shift tomorrow and I have to catch the flight home.

Queen of the Pirates (Wednesday, Sept. 29)

2010-10-21T20:33:00.013-03:00

Kate and I decide we'll go into Clifden later in the afternoon as she wants to put a dent in the massive cupboard clean up underway in her kitchen. She finds a pair of boots for me and I begin tackling the Olearia. It's a big job but pleasant to do, with earthy scents surrounding me as I yank assorted weeds out and scratch at the soil. Halfway through, I look up to see a magnificent rainbow arching over.

The bond I feel with this region is like nothing I've ever felt before. Several times I feel almost like crying as I walk about the yard. Kate describes the sky as having an almost opalescent quality. It feels like one is inside a giant pearly conch shell with the sound of the surf ever constant along this "fanged seaboard of Connaught".

I'm fascinated by Kate's stories. She tells me her neighbour's father came across a Viking in full armour (only his head showing above the sand) that had been uncovered on a beach after a wild storm. It's now in the National Museum of Ireland.

The Queen of the Pirates is another legend of the region. Grace O’Malley (“Gráinne Ni Mháille” in Irish), was born on Clare Island, where her father was chief of the local clan in the mid-1500’s.

When her father died, she inherited his ship. She began using it in legal trade but eventually turned to piracy, leading a crew of 200 in robberies of ships all around the west coast of Ireland.

In 1576, she was described as “a notorious woman in all the coasts of Ireland” by Lord Deputy Sir Henry Sidney of Galway. Twice, the queen of the pirates was captured and imprisoned by the British. Then, in 1593, she had a personal interview with Queen Elizabeth, where she secured the release of her son and her brother from prison, and received a pardon in exchange for a promise to help guard against Spanish armada ships off the coast of Ireland.

In town we browse a vintage shop after I treat Kate to lunch at the Connemara Hamper. There's a brochure for horseback riding that I tuck away in hopes of making arrangements for tomorrow before I leave for Dublin.

We stop at the Abbeyglen Castle Hotel for a glass of wine and I leave a message at the trail riding number before we head home.

To give Kate a little more time in the kitchen, Toulouse and I follow a sheep trail that takes us through the heather and furze along the coastline, past stone foundations of homes deserted during the potato famine.

As the sun sinks into the sea I sit before the fire and sip on another glass of red wine while browsing a copy of the Best of Life, a book on Yeats and more about the Queen of Pirates. Kate serves up pasta with olives and mushrooms along with a salad.

Ann calls me back from The Point Pony Trekking & Horse Riding. I've got a date with a pony for tomorrow at 10 a.m.

More photos here.

A Land of Ferocious Beauty (Tuesday, Sept. 28)

2010-10-18T15:47:00.017-03:00

The stop for gas is an experience as I leave Belfast on the M1. It seems everyone is staring at me as I walk into the station and stand in line behind the rest (all guys). The attendant looks out at the car.
"Ahhh..... Hyundai.... good make."
He studies my VISA card as the sale is approved.
"Nova Scotia, hmmmm."
It's a little unnerving but I can't leave yet. I'm hungry and there's a Subway at the back. In the bathroom there are two stalls. One is marked male, the other female. I do what I have to and skedaddle out of there as fast as I can.

On the road again for a good long haul. The radio talk shows are interesting and help pass the time through intermittent rain showers. I'm excited about my next stop.

Kate O'Toole's couchsurfing profile captivated me with its sharp honesty. It painted a picture of someone I knew I'd like and the region she lived in - Connemara - drew me like a magnet. Plus she owned donkeys. How cool was that? It wasn't until after she responded saying she could host me that I googled her name. She was an actress and I wanted to see what movies she'd been in. That's when I learned that actor Peter O'Toole is her father.

Gradually the road becomes narrower and after six hours of driving I pass through the little village of Westport in County Mayo. The place is charming with tiny, colourful shops, and a man playing an accordion on the sidewalk.

It all distracts me so much I lose my way and have to retrace my entry. There's a man by a hardware store loading lumber so I pull in to ask how to get to Clifden. He reaches for a board and traces out the way slowly and carefully with a pencil.
"Have a good holiday, miss," he says as I thank him gratefully and turn around in the lot.

Connemara, with all its magic, begins to enfold me. This peninsula of Western Galway has long been regarded as one of the most beautiful places in the world. Its barren windswept landscape is "compelling and inspiring."
As Oscar Wilde wrote, "Connemara is a savage beauty."

As I enter this region, dominated by the majestic Twelve Bens mountain range, all stress and tiredness evaporates. Kate lives on the Sky Road, a circular route that is 11 km long, west of Clifden. Very few places in Ireland can match the rugged beauty and range of stunning scenery that can be seen from this road. I find it difficult to drive more than 1/4 of a mile at a time without stopping to take pictures.

Far out on the silvery, sparkling sea, a reef encircles the peninsula, causing whitecaps and mist to form on the horizon. The sky is bigger and bluer than I have ever seen in my life and the mountains are softened with blankets of heather and furze, bracken and thyme. Giant bushes of wild fuschia crowd the shoulders of the winding road.

Kate told me she would likely be in town when I arrived, so I walk to the end of the lane and sit on the beach for awhile, soaking up the beauty and the roar of the surf on the far-off reef. There's time also to commune with the donkeys in the field above her house after I gradually win their trust.

Kate shows me to a lovely room in this home that once belonged to her grandmother. Toulouse is her adorable Jack Russell terrier that chases a red plastic ball incessantly about the front yard.
For supper she prepares lentils and rice, never lets my wine glass become empty and brings out a divine pear tart from the Connemara Hamper in Clifden for dessert.

I am honoured to be her first couchsurfer and ask her why she joined. She tells me she was impressed by the network when she learned about it from young extras while filming The Ballad of Des and Mo in Australia this summer. She signed up and contacted a member while in New Guinea on vacation for some inside information about the area. That person proved to be very helpful thus selling her even more on the idea.

Tomorrow I plan on weeding a nursery bed she showed me full of Olearia cuttings.
It will be like gardening in heaven.

More photos here.

Belfast reborn (Monday, Sept. 27)

2010-10-16T22:24:00.011-03:00

Before my stay with Angela in Belfast I had always connected the city to bloodshed, terror and bombs. An after-dark tour she took me on, careening about the streets with a machismo I admired, changed that perception.

Queen's University glowed golden and expansive, occupying an entire district. A gatekeeper at Belfast Castle waved us in when Angela wound down her window and explained that I was from Canada. Down by the harbour Samson & Goliath towered over the docks. These enormous cranes were used to construct the Titanic and are still in use today.

We drive past Victoria Square - a spanking new shopping centre, the elegant Statue of Harmony, the burgeoning judicial section with its barrister's library, coroner's court, family court and law society.

The Titanic Quarter is also slowly unfolding: described as Europe's largest and most exciting waterfront development, it will transform a 185-acre site on the banks of Belfast's river Lagan into a new mixed use maritime quarter with a mile of water frontage and a range of investment opportunities including: over 7,500 apartments, 900,000 sq. m. of business, education, office and research and development floor space together with hotels, restaurants, cafes, bars and other leisure uses.

"I saw an artist's conception of what it will look like by 2015. It's amazing," said Angela, a human rights lawyer. "There's a lot of money being pumped in here."

Growth and prosperity is what this city is focusing on now. The IRA and protestant murals, the Europa Hotel that was the target of at least 30 bombings in the past, the peace line.... that's all history.
"The majority of people who live in Northern Ireland just want to live in peace," said Angela.

Belfast is the first of four nights in Ireland. After turning in my car at the Glasgow airport at 7 a.m. this morning, catching a bus to Paisley, a train to Troon, and the 10 a.m. P&O Irish Sea ferry (for 33 pounds) I arrived in Larne, N. Ireland around noon. On to a train again for the trip to Great Victoria Street in Belfast where my second rental car awaits.

The price difference is astounding: $570 Cdn for four days in Ireland vs $264 Cdn for seven days in England/Scotland. Picking the car up in Belfast and dropping it off in Dublin is the reason for this I'd been told earlier. However, no regrets. Being able to travel where I want to when I want to, is worth the cost.

Angela is a terrific host and a fun person to talk to. We get along great and share many stories. The next morning she insists on coming with me to put me on the right road - the M1 for my trek to Connemara - before hopping out to walk to her office.

More photos here

Castle quest (Sunday, Sept. 26)

2010-10-15T16:45:00.011-03:00

Edinburgh, with its outstanding architecture, is the first destination for today. Cat tells me I shouldn't miss it and as it's only 45 minutes from Glasgow - my stop for the night - I agree.

The frost is heavy on the mountain meadows as I leave the Scottish highlands. There's a Gaelic sermon on the radio and a prayer brings tears to my eyes. Nothing could be more appropriate as I drive past sheep grazing peacefully beneath the cloud shadows.

It doesn't take long to reach Edinburgh. I follow sign after sign directing me to City Centre then park on a side street, noting the name as Crescent. Heading off towards what I feel to be the heart of the city, a woodland trail beside a rushing river pulls me slightly off course. This is a section of the Water of Leith walkway, which accompanies the river for 12.25 miles from Balerno to Leith.

I walk it for less than half a mile, ask directions from several others and continue on to Princes Street. Edinburgh Castle dominates the skyline, with the magnificent Princes Street Gardens at its base. The Scott Monument is a bit further, looking, as Bill Bryson describes it, like a "gothic rocket ship".

Establishing exactly where I left the car and how to get back to it is first on my agenda. The Edinburgh Tourist Information Centre next to the Waverley Bridge provides me with a map. At Clark's I pick up my first personal purchase of the trip - a pair of pant boots, and in another store the wild, frenzied notes of the Red Hot Chilli Pipers capture some of my pounds for their new DVD, BLAST LIVE.

Time to head back to the car, but lunch first - spicy chicken polla at Miros, a great little Mexican restaurant on Rose Street. It's past 2 p.m. now and I want to hit the road to arrive at the Sherbrooke Castle in Glasgow early. It's the one luxury I've booked for this two-week odyssey: an overnight stay in a converted castle.

Now, where was it I left the car? Crescent Street. Right. Or was it Crescent Road... Crescent Avenue? Crescent Terrace? DAMN. I wander about the area for two hours coming close... but that only counts in horseshoes. Finally a young fellow gets me back on the Water of Leith trail and landmarks start falling back into place.

The M8 gets me to Glasgow in no time. Then the three-ring circus of trying to find the Sherbrooke Castle Hotel begins. Up to that point I'd been patting myself on my back for how well I was able to find everything.

Not tonight. Signs were non-existent for the hotel. I never came across one. And place names never matched up for exits. Aim for a certain spot and you'd go through four roundabouts, each with half a dozen exits, none of which had any connection to my destination. Six calls to the hotel were fruitless.

"I'm sorry dear, but I only know how to give directions from one way," explained an elderly lady.
"Well then, I'm sure not paying for a room you can't direct me too," was my unspoken thought.

As night descends and the clock twirls round to past 8 p.m. I'm about ready to sleep in the car. Perhaps they could give me directions from the Glasgow airport. I make my way there and as I'm driving slowly through that maze, a garde pulls me over. A female officer appears beside my window and asks if I'm having problems. I'm fighting tears as I explain my dilemma. She goes back to the car with my map to consult with her partner and returns.

"Look for the exit called Govan Road," she tells me. Filled with renewed hope, I set off again.
Guess what. That's not on any of the signs either.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I stumble upon the place half an hour later. It's beautiful, glowing in the up-lights. There's a wedding reception underway and the desk clerk tells me they've given me a pretty room. Turns out to be the turret room. Yippee!

The stress of the day slides away quickly in a deep, hot tub, followed by room service - a smoked salmon sandwich, salad and Irish coffee.

The noise of the reception is loud from beneath my turret but I don't even care. I stuff toilet paper into my ears and crash till 5:30 a.m.

More photos here.

Skye-Larking (Saturday, Sept. 25)

2010-10-14T19:46:00.015-03:00

Cat and I are up impressively early considering how late we stayed out the night before. By 9 a.m. we're on the A9 heading for Inverness. We have to go North before we head South I learn from my navigator, who proves herself a whiz at the job.

A few roundabouts later and we're on the A82 hugging the shores of Loch Ness for its entire 25 mile length. Looking for Nessie works up an appetite. We stop at a sweet little cafe for a bacon bap and hot chocolate. By now the sun has burned off the mists from the valleys and lochs and continues to beam down in glorious rays. It's no less than a miracle, I decide, from watching the reaction of the native Scots.

Leaving the diner we come upon a sobering accident on the narrow road. The garde wave traffic past the horrific shell of a vehicle crumpled into the side of a craggy outface that looks as if it caught fire.

We're on our way to a charming castle that Cat remembers visiting years ago. Eilean Donan Castle is one of the most photographed castles in Scotland. I fell in love with it immediately.

"Although first inhabited around the 6th century, the first fortified castle was built in the mid 13th century and stood guard over the lands of Kintail. Since then, at least four different versions of the castle have been built and re-built as the feudal history of Scotland unfolded through the centuries."

I was so disappointed when we stepped inside the first room only to be greeted by a sign that forbid photography. A staff member was stationed inside each area to ensure this. When I asked the kilt-clad employee if I could shoot without a flash, he apologized and said even that wasn't allowed.

"But then there's nothing I could do if ye happened to photograph something when I wasn't lookin," he said.... and promptly turned his back.

Over the Skye bridge onto the Isle of Skye, renowned for its spectacular scenery, vibrant culture and heritage, and its abundant wildlife including the Golden Eagle, Red Deer and salmon. Cat and I saw none of these critters however we were so taken with the Highland cattle next to the road, we pulled over and took pictures.

We travel as far as the pretty little town of Portree, then retrace our route back to the mainland. Cat puts us on the A890 for the trip back North to Inverness. It's less traveled and more rugged. We start looking (in vain) for a place that serves fish and chips. By the time we get to Inverness our mouths are watering in anticipation. We dig in and eat every bite. Delicious.

Night has fallen by now and the temperature's dropping. Close to home we stop in to see Cat's brother Stephen, who provides us with a tour of the Tomatin whiskey distillery where he works as a masher.

But prior to, I'm drawn to the coal fire burning in his fireplace. Heaped high and glowing with a steady, strong heat, the warmth is wonderful on this chilly eve.

More photos here

Curses (Friday, Sept. 24)

2010-10-11T09:22:00.022-03:00

I learn later that three people died in three days on this motorway during the same month I drove it. Actually, they refer to these major highways as carriageways, an outdated term if ever there was one. A woman was also arrested earlier in September for being naked from the waist down and masturbating as she was passing a lorry-driver.

Yes, well.... my experiences of the M6 were of sitting in a traffic jam for an hour and a half, then continuing on for close to six hours to eventually pass through the beautiful Lakes District (that so many had told me I should stop in) in a driving rain storm at night.

After three phone calls to Richie, my Carlisle host, I finally zone in. His place drove home the point that couchsurfing isn't about staying in hotel-like accommodations, but rather the fact that strangers have opened up their home and are sharing what they have. The bedroom he directs me to reminds me very much of how my sons' usually looked. However the bed is clean and looks VERY inviting after the long day. He serves me tea and shares his computer in order for me to update my status on facebook so my family knows I've arrived safely.

Richie's 25, has shoulder length hair, a nose-ring and is vegan. He works with the mentally disturbed and seems in a world of his own. His references were great on the couchsurfing network and indeed he seems very thoughtful as to my comfort.

He tells me he can go with me to the Cursing Stone of Carlisle in the morning. It's my main point of interest at this stop. The stone, a 7.5 ton chunk of granite, is inscribed with a 700-word, 16th century curse. The curse was first invoked by the Archbishop of Glasgow against cross border families, known as the “reivers”, who lived by stealing cattle, rape and pillage.

This art installation was created by Why Not Associates in 2001 and placed in an underground pathway linking a museum to Carlisle castle. Since then, the city has experienced "exceptional catastrophes" including hoof & mouth disease, fires, floods and more.
Tanya Gold wrote a great article about it.

"You're not afraid of the curse?" asked Richie.
"I have very powerful guardian angels," I replied. And I truly felt I did.

Richie directs me to a place where there's free parking. The spot is so tight he has to get out and guide me in to it, but hey, it's free. We walk a few blocks to the Cursing Stone then I shell out for two passes to the Carlisle Castle.

The place is pretty well deserted so early in the morning. It's cold and barren. Seems appropriate for castle-viewing weather. Halfway through, Richie tells me the parking is only for an hour. He puts me on the right road for Scotland then hops out to visit a friend. So long, Carlisle.

Cat Stephens surfed with me this summer and we had a great evening down at Rudders Seafood Restaurant and Brew Pub. I'll be spending two nights with she and her mom in Aviemore, 220 miles north. The sun comes out and the driving is easy. I stop at a Road Chef to have a late breakfast and check my emails with the free wifi. The Scottish highlands are on the horizon and I feel like I could drive forever.

Cat's happy to see me and cracks a bottle of chilled bubbly right off the bat. She then dishes up a plate of haggis, neeps (turnips) and tatties (whipped potatoes) and tells me it's tradition to wash it all down with whiskey. Who am I to ignore tradition? I'm starved and eat every bite. My ancestors would have been proud.

We then decide to go out and find ourselves a laddie in a kilt. We get no further than the local legion, a few hundred yards away. There's a live band and the place is packed. One James O'Shea makes his intentions clear as he plies me with drink but I'm more interested in dancing to the band. I don't even need a partner. But halfway through the evening, a dad comes up to me on the floor, a young lad in tow.
"I was wonderin if maybe you might dance with my boy here," he asked.
"Surely!"
I hold both his hands and we swing gently to and fro during the next song at the end of which he grins shyly and scampers away. By 2 a.m. I've had enough. It's time for bed. I've a sneaking suspicion Cat's given me her own for the stay as she's bunked out downstairs on a mattress next to the electric fire.

Tomorrow we're going on a giant road trip - the Isle of Skye awaits.

More photos here.

Deep down in Big Pit (Thursday, Sept. 23)

2010-10-10T19:30:00.016-03:00

"I'll never be a Valley Boy." Manu tells me a little wistfully. He's lived in Aberbargoed for the past 10 years. His neighbours treat him politely but it's a reserved friendship. That's because there's something that Manu, as a foreigner, has never experienced. The coal mining bond.

If you look at a topographical map of Wales, you'll notice a series of valleys running from north to south. Each had dozens of coal mines, producing at one time 95% of the world's coal.

"The world was running on Welsh coal," said Manu.

In 1984, the National Coal Board announced it intended to close 20 coal mines in order to rationalize government subsidization of the industry. Miners began strike action, but after a year conceded defeat. The closure of pits accelerated, throwing thousands out of work and into hardship.

"If one family ran out of eggs, they all ran out of eggs," said Manu, describing coal mining families fierce support of each other. The decimation of the industry had a resounding impact on Wales.

Big Pit is a real coal mine that has been transformed into a national museum. Manu showed me the essence of Wales during the short time I had here with a personal tour of this award winning complex.

First we are issued helmets with lamps. A belt with a battery pack and gas mask is fastened securely around our waist. All devices that emit an electrical charge, like remote keys, cameras, and cellphones, are collected prior to our descent 300 feet below the surface.

A retired coal miner leads us through tunnels and past stalls where horses were kept 50 weeks of the year. There's the continual sound of running water and at times we have to bend over double to make our passage. We stop at a coal face and our guide explains in a thick Welsh accent how a mining machine chewed into the wall loosening the coal, which was then shoveled onto a conveyor belt and transferred into trams.

Back above there are still the Pithead Baths and the superb audio-visual Mining Gallery to see. The narrative for the latter touched me so much, Manu and I stopped in to see the curator before we left, and he provided me with a copy.

"Out of this black hole he (the coal miner) built warm houses and bright chapels. Out of this thin seam he hewed miner's institutes and finer education and better health. Out of this secret place he gave power to nations and hearths to homes.

"You know - it wasn't only the coal that was squeezed out of ancient trees. When us miners scratched the surface of this coalfield, we were squeezed too, into a comradeship you might never understand.

"And when we needed a bit of help down here, you'd hear a universe of languages. A sort of world heritage, you might say. I don't know if there's a message for the world in that - but a tale of comradeship is no bad thing to come out of the mucky heart of the big Welsh pit."

It's time to leave. I'm about to hit the road for my longest drive yet. One I've been most concerned about - 295 miles on the M6 to Carlisle.

More pictures here.

Eden in the morning (Wednesday, Sept.22)

2010-10-08T15:21:00.017-03:00

News of the Eden Project in St. Austell, Cornwall was a big headline for horticulturists in the Year 2000. Established as one of the Landmark Millennium Projects for the UK, this monolithic undertaking was one that intrigued me. I never dreamt that I would actually be strolling about the grounds some day.

Futuristic conservatories are the main draw here. You could fit the Tower of London in the Rainforest Biome. The Guinness Book of Records heralds the Biomes as the biggest conservatories in the world. Building these ‘lean-to greenhouses’ on an uneven surface that changed shape was tricky: ‘bubbles’ were used because they can settle on any shaped surface – the architect got the idea while washing up!

There are one million plants on site. Education about living organisms, specifically the need for environmentally-friendly practices and conservation measures, is stressed.

I spend three hours here after leaving Mark and Naomi's place,then call Manu to tell him I am on my way to Wales. At Exeter I get on my first motorway, the M5. The average speed is 70-80 mph but I'm comfortable with it. The highway's great, the music's great. No problem to drive for miles and miles and miles. The Severn Bridge commands a toll of 5.50 pounds and then I am in Wales.

The intermittent rain has turned into a steady downpour by the time Aberbargoed, 12 miles from Cardiff, is anywhere close. It's getting dark and I'm feeling lost. After driving 200 miles since my last host, it's time to stop and ask directions.

I learn I'm still on the right track, just that there's a way to go yet. It's always such a relief to knock on the door you think is the one you're looking for and have it open to someone who's expecting you.

Manu, a truck driver, serves me coffee and we sit and chat for awhile. He shows me how he's learning to write braille - his wife was born blind - and says it's even harder to learn than backing a truck up. I can see why. The sequence of holes for each letter must be punched in reverse and sentences are formed from right to left rather than left to right.

Although from Brittany, France, this tall, laid-back host is passionate about the history of Wales. Specifically, the role that coal mining has played in the region, how its loss has affected its people and the importance of recording their stories.

He takes great pride in his cooking abilities and has received many compliments from past surfers. He serves me up a meal of cubed beef, pork kidneys and lamb hearts in gravy over potatoes along with a carrot/lemon juice salad. Carolyn, another couchsurfer for the night, arrives later. She's from Hamburg, Germany but has a distinct British accent.
We sip Genepi after the meal. It's made by monks in the Alps, Manu tells us.

I simply MUST visit the National Welsh Museum Big Pit tomorrow, insists Manu. I agree to. What better place, in the short period of time I have, to experience what this region is all about.

More photos here.

Curlew lullabye (Tuesday, Sept. 21)

2010-10-07T05:54:00.018-03:00

As plans first began to solidify for this two-week adventure, a photo of St. Michael's Mount that I stumbled upon so fascinated me, I added it to my destination list. Located on the southwest coast of Wales at Marazion, this landmark has been the site of pilgrimages since the middle ages.
An apparition of the Archangel St Michael is said to have been witnessed by fisherman in 495 and by the sixth century AD it is thought that the Mount was a thriving religious centre. Four miracles, said to have happened here between 1262 and 1263 would have only added to its religious magnetism.
Brave souls Mark and Naomi agree to accompany me for the day in my car. They provide valuable coaching as I wrangle with the roundabouts.

Onward to St. Ives, a holiday resort reknowned for its artists. It's time for my full initiation on driving frighteningly narrow Cornish roads. The landscape was stunning, enjoyed between incredibly sharp corners that had to be crawled around in case another car was approaching.

"As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks, each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits: kits, cats, sacks and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?"

The Answer?
Only one man was going to St.Ives.
He met the following who were going the other way:
A man (1) with seven wives: 7 x 7 (49) sacks, 7x7x7 (343) cats, 7x7x7x7 (2,401) kits. A total of 2,801 wives, sacks, cats and kits.

At St. Ives both Naomi and I learn that food must be clutched tightly and hidden from view of the seagulls. They voraciously swooped down on first her (unsuccessfully) as we ate our Cornish pasties on the waterfront, then me (successfully), nabbing my ice cream cone.

We return to Mylor in time for a boat ride to The Pandora Inn - a 13th century thatched roof inn & pub at Restronguet Creek. We instruct the young bartender on how to make Bloody Marys then return to the house where Mark works his magic in the kitchen again, creating a sumptuous fish pie with roast potatoes and salad. Naomi makes my Cornish stay complete by serving up raspberries with clotted cream. We finish with dark chocolate and a sip of her sloe gin - a red liqueur flavoured with sloe (also called blackthorn) berries, a small fruited relative of the plum.

Each berry is pricked, and a wide necked jar is filled half way with them. Folklore has it that when making sloe gin, one should not prick the berries with a metal fork, unless it is made of silver. The established traditional method is to prick the berries with a thorn taken from the blackthorn bush on which they grow.
Naomi makes hers by combining one cup of sloe berries, one cup of gin and one cup of sugar and letting it sit for six months.

It's time to drift off to birdsong, cooing, hooing and twittering, including the warbling cry of the curlew.

For more photos, click here

Mind the Gap (Monday, Sept. 20)

2010-10-06T21:20:00.011-03:00

At every station an automated voice admonishes those boarding and disembarking from this train to "Mind the Gap". The reference is to the few inches of open space between the train and platform, but it may as well have been for myself and the connections I must make this morning.

I'd left, I assumed, early enough to catch the train from Paddington Station to Truro in Cornwall where my next couchsurfing host was located. But I didn't take into account the train I must ride between Waterloo and Paddington beforehand.

My Cornwall (Penzance actually) train leaves at 10 a.m. My 7:30 a.m. start time seems terribly inadequate all of a sudden as I hurl towards Waterloo from the Eden station. How long does the train take between Waterloo and Paddington? Will I be able to buy a ticket quickly and find the platform in time to make an early connection? Will I get to Paddington in time to use the electronic kiosk to print out my Truro ticket? Worry. Worry.

The man sitting beside me reassures me I'll make the connections and a helpful station attendant directs me to the proper ticket booth. By 9:20 I'm at Paddington and breathe a huge sigh of relief.

It's a five hour train ride to Truro but the coach is comfortable and it'll be good to just kick back for awhile. An elderly woman takes the seat beside me. She hauls out a cell phone and checks for msgs. I'm impressed. She then takes out an iPad. I assist her a few minutes later when she accidentally opens up the audiobook program instead of the ebook she was trying for.

The first order of business in Truro is to pick up the rental car. It's an hour of firsts. My first rental car. The first time I drive on the left hand side of the road. The first time I drive through a roundabout. After the paperwork I sit behind the wheel on the right-hand-side of the car and familiarize myself with the instruments. Time for a cruise around the compound. Jaysus it's hard to tell the boundary on the left hand side. I keep bashing my hand on the right hand door reaching for the gear shift which is now on the left. Time to get out on the road. I sit in the Hertz driveway watching the cars zoom by. NONE of them are approaching far enough away for me. Let's get this over with. I pull out and head for Mylor, 20 minutes away.

When in doubt, drive slowly is my motto. At least until I get the hang of things. Naomi, who is hosting me in Cornwall with her partner Mark, tells me later that she sees the need for a special license plate for tourists (foreigners) like me with a FF designation. I'll leave that acronym to your imagination. However I'm in full agreement with her.

The pretty little house on Church Road is a welcome sight, as is Naomi with pollock in hand that they've just caught for supper. I've a beautiful room in their home, overlooking a peaceful cove and charming lane.

Naomi is a former art dealer, and Mark, a former employee of the Eden Project, which is one of my destinations. Their home and surroundings are no less than enchanting and they immediately make me feel comfortable.

Mark is a gourmet chef and prepares ceviche by marinating the fish in lime juice. We have it as a starter followed by pork chops with apples picked from the tree out back, whipped potatoes and pickled cabbage.

More photos here.

Kew...phew! (Sunday, Sept. 19)

2010-10-05T06:23:00.012-03:00

John has to correct 150 tests today online so I'm on my own, heading for the Kew Royal Botanical Gardens. Armed with the right bus number I head for southwest London.

It's my first ride in a double decker and of course one has to ride on top. As the bus weaves its way along the narrow streets there's the continual snapping and cracking of overhanging shrubbery. At each stop the bus "kneels" down with a sigh to curb level using a pneumatic device for easier access.

Last year Kew celebrated its 250th anniversary. UK Tourism has kindly provided a pass for the afternoon to explore this 121-hectare landmark. Three hours pass quickly as I trudge path after path to the Great Pagoda (erected in 1762), enormous temperate conservatory, water lily house, rhododendron dell, and much, much more.

Kew's focus on children is a delight to see and everywhere I look there are families... laughing and happy. Couples both young and old saunter the trails. It is here - and only here - during the two-week trip, that I feel the pang of being alone.

It's a marvelous place and a photographer's dream, with mature trees or stunning architecture seeming to frame every shot. The only criticism is a modern-day curse. This UNESCO World Heritage Site is beneath the approach path for Heathrow and the sound of jets is a constant.

John shares a more macabre story later. Apparently a home supply business was discovering bodies in its parking lot on a fairly regular basis. The mystery was solved when it was discovered that jet wheels were deployed at that location with hijackers tucked unknown in that compartment tumbling out. The unfortunates quickly died once jets reached cruising altitude due to the extremely low temperatures.

I catch a bus back to John's neighbourhood to do a little shopping and also check on my phone. Yesterday I purchased a pay-as-you-go unit from THREE for 29.99 pounds ($50). I wanted to be able to contact my hosts, use it in an emergency and have wireless access to update facebook statuses for friends and family. The price included 150 MB of Internet time and the phone could be used throughout the UK and Republic of Ireland.

Sounds impressive... but the damn thing wasn't working. A THREE clerk replaced the sim card, saying it was defective. The fix worked and that little phone turned out to be a great investment.

At Marks & Spencers, it was hard to tear myself away from the Food Hall, but I finally did, after buying a bottle of red wine, baguette, sphagetti noodles, two cans of sauce, hamburg,a small bunch of Italian herbs, and chocolate for 15 pounds.

That night I make supper for Oliver and John.
They both have second-helpings.