New Scotland?

Good Morning!

Technically, my vacation ended today. Which I am celebrating by getting up at 6 to write before a workday that ends at 8pm. But I have coffee in my Maine mug, and yesterday was a hot and steamy day in Milwaukee, so it’s basically the same thing, right? Probably.

We woke up on the misty fifth morning of vacation in a whole new world. The evening before had been pitch dark and foggy, so beyond some blurry headlights and the outline of our B&B, I had no real concept of what we would see. My first impression was that the room was startling in how comfortable and well decorated it was. I always try to add one “fancy” stay to my travels, as I usually go for the cheapest safe option. Ye Olde Argyler Lodge of Argyle, NS exceeded every expectation. A four-poster bed, an equally comfortable daybed for Best Friend; vaulted ceilings, and a rain shower.

As if that weren’t enough, the crown jewel of the space was the enormous window overlooking Lobster Bay. The sun was just rising (something is wrong with me, where I cannot sleep in on vacation – far too excited to see new things, I guess). I looked out the window to see the water at a perfect flat calm. Not a single ripple. No wind either, and pure silence. Imagine the silence of South Dakota, with the addition of forest and sea. We were in some other place.

My travel style is always seeking a balance of exploration and restoration – which is why I’ll seek out pubs with crazy traditional music, and spend hours in museums or cemeteries. Action and silence. Portland had been action – exploring, sweating, talking to lots of folks. Nova Scotia was the source of silence.┬áIt was also, finally, thankfully, about 30 degrees cooler than it had been in the States. As the sun rose, the breeze picked up slightly, and I think the temperature topped out around 75. With C, it’s hard to tell what’s really going on out there.

We eventually got up, got dressed, and headed down for breakfast. I was reminded of a college-era trip to Wales where they greet you and then tell you what’s for breakfast – on this day it was a lovely omelette with other lovely things and fresh orange juice. Fantastic coffee. After breakfast, we took our coffee to the porch and watched a few boats head out of the bay. THINGS I LEARNED: Fishing is done in the winter – especially for lobster, they shed in summer and are not good. A good fisherman makes the bulk of his money in the first six weeks of the season, and you almost never see him except he comes home to shower and head out again. A lobster over 2lbs is hard to eat and you need tools to cut the shells. The more you know.

At this point, the universe decided we’d had enough peace. The hostess came out to ask if we had plans for the day. We asked what was in walking distance, and she was like “…nothing…you don’t even have bikes?” Nope. In my defense, the website suggested that there were lots of options for recreation – and did not suggest that the closest was 10 miles away and that we would need a vehicle. Oops. We actually weren’t really bothered by this (there was a hiking trail nearby and we had books and stuff). So I asked, “when do you serve lunch or dinner?” “We don’t….the dining room is only open on the weekend.” Huh. That definitely is not clearly stated on the website. It’s becoming clear that we are here until the shuttle pics us up in 24 hours, with no more food until breakfast, and no way to get food for ourselves. Hilarious. Still not that bothered, but this is clearly a huge problem for our hosts.

They checked in with us all day to see if we were ok, connected us with some other guests who did have a car to take a ride into Pubnico, the nearby town, for the Acadian Heritage Festival. These ladies were hilarious and welcoming, but the festival was…cute. And small. And over when we got there. We saw some really lovely quilts, and signed the guestbook…and headed back. Around 6pm the room phone rang with an offer to give us a ride back into “town” for dinner at the Red Cap. I actually think that all the miscommunication was worth it because it led us to this spot.

Tiny, unassuming restaurant that also offers a few hotel rooms. We arrived at 7:50, and though it technically closed at 8, there was no rush, no break in the friendly service. The food was amazing (possibly slightly flavored with relief over actually eating dinner). Scallops and oysters from the nearby bays. Lovely local wine. Coconut cream pie for dessert. Medium coffee, but not a big deal. Really lovely service – I have to say, as I work my way through my thirties, I increasingly appreciate when people refer to Best Friend and I as “you girls”. This is totally tied up with my South Dakota life, and it still makes me smile. We ate everything possible and then wandered outside to wait for our ride back.

The stillness was augmented by the huge bright moon, which I fully failed to take an accurate picture of. The whole landscape was lit up, and the water of the bay was shining in the light. Fireflies abounded. Crickets and frogs sang. The peace had returned.

A day in a series of images. Travel is never not an adventure.

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Annnd…I’m back!

This blogging thing though – is my perennial New Year’s fail, but I’m trying again.

In the interim, since the Great Escape of 2014, the following travel has happened, and will be updated in the future:

  • Myriad boring work trips (will not be featured – planes, chain hotels, conference rooms)
  • NYC take 652 (approx), September 2015 – special Brooklyn edition
  • Dominican Republic, January 2016 – in which I try a new kind of travel
  • Big Powderhorn and Michigan UP, January 2016 – skiing, snowshoeing and polar vortexing
  • Door County and Washington Island, July 2016 – in which I sleep outside and live (camping)

All to be illustrated and shared beginning in September of this year. In the meantime, the makers of “Great Escape 2014” bring you…

“Grand Adventure 2016!” In which we explore Portland, Maine; Yarmouth and Halifax, Nova Scotia; and as much of Prince Edward Island as a person with determination and a rental car can fit into four days.

So buckle up – or, as many boats are involved, batten down those hatches for the ride!
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