Truro to Lunenberg, then home

On our drive from Truro to Lunenberg we saw a mastodon on the side of the road, so, we of course had to stop. You see, they found a mastodon skeleton near Stewiacke, "Halfway between the North Pole and the Equator", at confluence of the Stewiacke and Shubenacadie River. (One of RJH's favorite pastimes on this trip was "make the Toronto girl attempt to pronounce maritime place names". I fared miserably and was advised not to refer to places by name in front of locals). Actually, what we saw was a very cheesy little tourist trap named Mastodon Ridge (scientific value: extremely dubious). But, it gave RJH an excuse to photograph me with the 'Mastodon'.




Yes, it's the least-welcoming Flintstones playground of all time: "Play at own risk" and "DANGER: Do not climb this house". (Caveat: the Mastodon in question was, apparently, 20 thousand years old, and while the arrival of the earliest peoples in North American remains subject to debate, 20,000 years ago is generally considered much too early... and I'm not even going to comment on the Flintstones nature of the building and ahem, vehicle.)



Then, we continued to Lunenberg, where we were able to have lunch and take some photos.








Here, the lobster don tams, rather than sou'westers. Regional variations in lobster headgear is what it's all about.



Then we drove to Halifax airport, which proved to be very challenging. We were behind the World's Most Cautious truck driver for most of the way on a single lane road. Nonetheless, we made it on time, and got our boarding passes with help from the aggressively friendly ground staff. One security officer addressed me as "m'dear" and the other as "sweetie" which seemed a bit much. Does being in Nova Scotia mean this is standard?

It was a great trip.

Halifax to Lunenberg

After spending Sunday afternoon in Peggy's Cove, we returned to Halifax and had a fabulous sushi dinner at the well-recommended Dharma Sushi. We spent our last night in Halifax, and in the morning after coffee and some sort of baked item, we headed along the south shore to Lunenberg (the second UNESCO World Heritage site, after Peggy's Cove, on this trip). We had planned to take the ferry from Digby to Saint John, New Brunswick (at no small expense! ouch!) and had to make it in time for our reservation. The girls at the information counter in Lunenberg estimated a 2.5 to 3 hour transit west across the province, so we had no time to spare. I managed to snap some photos as we more-or-less rushed through town looking for lunch.

We passed through several picturesque towns along the way. This town was bedecked with bras. I don't know why, but I asked to stop to take a photo. It was funny because RJH was driving and I was on "Moose duty"* and had been requested to be explicit if I saw anything. I told RJH that my reflexes are good, but I can be quite literal when surprised. I told him about driving with my ex and saying excitedly, "Deer! Deer! Deer!" and then failing to comprehend that he heard "Dear! Dear! Dear!" I finally varied my tack somewhat and said, "Stag!" Once I was walking along a pier with JY and was concerned that our path would lead to an unpleasant experience when she stepped on a dead rat. So, we had this ridiculous conversation. "Dead rat." "Eh?" "Dead rat." "What? "DEAD RAT." "Oh. Why did you tell me? I would be happier not knowing. You could have just pulled me aside." So, RJH asked that I be descriptive. I joked that I was only any good at offering nouns. Sure enough, when we came around the bend and I saw an entire park bedecked in clotheslines full of garlands of bras, I said, "Bras!" So, we drove right by and I didn't get him to stop the car until later, but I did manage to get one of the lampposts with hanging bras.








*I've spent enough time driving through northern Ontario to believe that moose are car killers, like mad, unpredictable, aggressive quarter-horses, with many antlers and little brain.