Trip photos: More New Brunswick

I was tempted to call this "the rest of New Brunswick, but I know that's not fair. There are places we didn't visit or drive through. But, we did visit Saint John, Saint Andrew, camp on Deer Island, and visit Frederictor, and then drive from Woodstock to Québec, passing through a lot of the province. It was pretty thorough for a short trip. All my photos of Saint John are of people you don't know, and their kids, so I'll skip to Deer Island (near Campobello).






Seals!

Bunny rabbit!

We drove down to the ferry to Deer Island, after visiting friends in Saint John. RJH had camped there two years previous, and had wanted to bring me there. We found a site in the woods, where we could watch the tidal whirlpool, the seals and even a passing minke whale while sitting by our campfire. It was a beautiful place. In the morning we explored a little and then drove to Fredericton, to visit so more friends. On the way, we stopped briefly in St. Andrews, which is a very pretty (if touristy) seaside town.







Deer, outside Fredericton.

We spent a couple more nights at the camp and visiting RJH's family and then we headed northeast through NB towards Québec. I love the moose signs in NB. Unlike the simple 'MOOSE' signs south of the border, in New Brunswick they want to ensure you understand the scale of the issue.



They aren't kidding. That isn't even an especially large moose. They have special moose fences lining hundreds of kilometers of highways, with one way exits for stray moose. I was trying to explain to our young 8 year old friend in Saint John about the fences around Osgoode Hall, here in Toronto (home of his aunt's employer, the Law Society of Upper Canada). I explained that the fences were built to keep the cows from harassing the law students, 150 years ago, when there were apparently, random wandering cows in downtown Toronto, menacing law students. The gate has two corners, which evidently is too much for the bovine brain to manage. I explained that the fence was like the NB moose fences, except for Ontario cows, designed to allow animals out, but not in. His 3 year old brother, without missing a beat, asked, "If moose can get out, but not in, why do they need the gates at all? How do they get there in the first place?" That really impressed me. I was always pleased if I could get an undergraduate to display deductive reasoning and critical thinking. Though, I wonder sometimes if it's common at 3 and we scare it out 'em.

Trip photos: Maine

So the next morning we drove to Bar Harbor. It was bright and sunny and lovely. Though the town was quite touristy, it was at its summery best. Parking the car was a challenge, but a lot manager waved us into a full lot since RJH owns a small car (buying criterion: large enough for one hockey bag). We wandered around town, took more ironic photos with large, stuffed moose and wooden lobster, and young Japanese tourists taking photos with serious cameras wearing moose-shaped hats, and bought some lunch. We had pricey but tasty lobster rolls and local blueberry soda on the grass overlooking the harbour.



Then, we went to the nearby Acadia National Park, which RJH knew from childhood. We visited the Sandy Beach and drove up Cadillac Mountain. RJH said it reminded him of Cape Breton in miniature. With ten times the tourists, I added. It was lovely despite the crowds. They say on a clear day you can see Nova Scotia, but I am unsure whether this is believable.



We left Bar Harbor and hit traffic. It seemed we would never get off the island. We had plenty of time to inspect the hardcore quaintness of the local architecture. Eventually, we made it back to the highway and headed north to New Brunswick, stopping for an unduly complex attempt to buy ice cream near Bangor. The highway to the north is a bit monotonous: just trees, with the odd risk of more turkey or deer or moose. There was one lookout with a view of Mount Katahdin, so we stopped.



After that, it was just trees, until suddenly there was a sign for the border. We had dinner with his parents, though it was late for them. I was caught off-guard having never previously entered a new time zone by travelling north. We had an uneventful drive a further 40 minutes to their cottage where we were staying.

Trip photos: Adirondacks to Maine

We left late, delayed by our roofers, and only made it to the border near Gananoque the first night. We crossed first thing in the morning and drove on smaller roads, through northern New York state and the Adirondacks, to Mount Placid. We stopped to take ironic photos with giant wooden lobsters, mysteriously far from the coast, and of pretty roadside look-outs. Mount Placid itself is pretty, if touristy, but I found the golf carts driving around town streets hilarious. The licence plates read "limited use vehicle", but they were golf carts. I regret being unable to catch the ridiculous-looking police golf cart, because it was too astonishing.








We took the ferry across Lake Champlain to Burlington, Vermont. We did not see Champ. We did like the old photos of the grand old days of Lake Champlain ferries, which included bridal and presidential suites.









We drove across Vermont, and through Montpellier. Knowing several people from Montpellier, France, I was more than a little surprised at the American pronunciation, and don't think I could bring myself to say that. It sounds wrong. But, it's really quite pretty. You could miss the Capitol building though, if you didn't know where it was. A polite local paused in his truck so I could snap a pic out the window of the car.







In New Hampshire we had to stop at Santa's Village. I commented, "Oh, another Santa's village. I know of one in Ontario and another in Norway..." RJH corrected me and said this was THE Santa's village. Apparently proximity to New Brunswick trumps all. The animatronic, talking Rudolf was creepy, but apparently, no one told the children this.







We continued across New Hampshire, stopping only for dinner. I was on animal-spotting duty. At dusk this became somewhat nerve-wracking. I've spent enough time driving around northern Ontario to have a healthy fear of moose. If you've never met a moose, they are much larger, crazier, more hard-headed, and less predictable than say, a horse (though, also tastier)*. RJH finds it hilarious that I say moose kill, as he points out that it isn't voluntary on their part. I, on the other hand, find their motivation for destroying cars (or lack thereof) largely irrelevant. Up ahead I saw a large bird on the road and thought it might be a raven, but as we approached, it seemed much too large. Peacock?! Why on earth would there be peacocks on the road in the middle of nowhere, I thought. Then, I got it. "Turkey! Lots of them," I said. "Yes," said RJH, "I noticed since we were practically on top of them." When I explained that I was paying attention but hadn't wanted to misidentify the birds, and in fairness, I had never previously seen wild turkey, he looked at me like I was crazy. "So you waited until you could identify the species? Why didn't you just say 'Bird'?" I didn't have a good answer for that one. So, I amused myself by pointing out all animals, real and fake. There are an extremely large number of fake moose lining roads in New England. They are even more popular than fake lobster.







We made it to Maine that evening and stopped at the first motel we found. The clerk seemed to want to dissuade us from staying there, practically apologizing for the price and warning that the phone did not work. But it was 11 pm and we really wanted to get off the road, and it was fine. RJH had been aiming for Bangor**, but after I accidentally said Bar Harbor (as my sense of the geography of Maine is vague, at best), we decided we should made a detour to the coast. He's from the part of the Maritimes which basically ignores the existence of the Atlantic. Everyone here always assumes a trip to New Brunswick involves seeing the ocean, but it isn't necessarily so. We made a conscious decision to make sure our trip did include the ocean.



*I don't actually know this. I would never eat horse.


**This seemed to be an excuse to sign 'King of the Road', or vice versa.