Canada: A whole nother country

Here are some observations about Canada, a little-known yet vast, thriving country to our north:

1. It’s beautiful.
2. It’s welcoming and kid friendly; the natives are super nice.
3. Everything costs a TON, so that the prices and silly-looking currency seem like they must be play money, and yet the US and Canadian dollars are an even exchange right now.
4. They have mixed feelings about whistling– some hate it, some find it adorable, but everyone notices the habitually whistling child.
5. They have inscrutable driving etiquette, which I somehow kept getting wrong.
6. They really do use the interrogative, “ay?” Other common phrases include, “Right on!” and “no worries.”
7. They watch a lot of CNN and are very tuned into everything going on in the states.
8. Everything is in metric, which is disorienting: the rental car (a Canadian Ford Fusion) was in kph. Also, I never did figure out how to open the trunk without a key, and it had a mysterious gear called “M.”
9. In parts of Nova Scotia, signs are not bilingual English/French, but bilingual English/Gaelic.
10. The blueberries are the size of quail’s eggs.
11. There is land beyond the end of Maine, and they call it called “New Brunswick.”

It was a real mom-boys adventure. And let me pause for a moment here to admire and celebrate the reality that I was well enough, strong enough, brave and foolish enough to undertake this sort of major project on my own. A scant year ago I was still so dizzy and fatigued and generally at sea, that this sort of thing would’ve been unthinkable.  As the only adult on the voyage, I was in charge of all logistics. That meant a lot of carrying, packing, unpacking, gear management, planning, cooking, cleaning, driving, navigating, diplomacy, refereeing, and bottomless patience with youngsters who were sometimes ungrateful, whiny, and totally unreasonable to boot. Furthermore, because there was no dad on hand to do these things, I was called upon to swim, canoe, climb up and down cliffs, and most of all RIDE ON BOATS. I mean, there have been times in my multi-year bout of dizziness in which my kitchen floor felt exactly like a boat at sea. And now, I am stable enough to go on a REAL boat on a REAL SEA????!!! In that light, what you are about to see will amaze you.

PART 1: Whales

Our first order of business was to see whales. I’d seen orcas before on the US west coast, but I wanted to see like, serious whales. Humpbacks, specifically. I couldn’t be within striking distance without making it happen. This meant booking a cottage down on Digby Neck, this thin peninsula that runs along the mainland coastline in the Bay of Fundy. From there we could drive even further down the peninsula, take a ferry to an island, and catch a whale-watching boat. I had asked the kids beforehand, “Would you like a slow, secure boat that has a bathroom and tables you can sit at, or would you like a fast, scary boat that is open to the air?” Obviously, they chose fast and scary. That meant, a Zodiac.

In order to ride in this glorified rugby dingy and bounce along the waves at high speed, everyone has to put on giant orange floatation suits. The kids had rain gear plus life jackets. (All photos taken on my iPhone, the case of which slipped now and then, casting a rounded shadow along the left margin.)

The boat ride itself was as terrifying as advertised, and we quickly struck gold with porpoises, harbor dolphins, seals, and many exciting sea birds. That was all wonderful in itself. And then…

 

We saw 8-9 humpbacks and one minke. For me the highlight was a moment when a mom and baby pair of whales were playing in these huge drifts of seaweed, and the baby one was rolling around in it so that for one second I got to see his giant mouth and eye. Of course, I didn’t get a photo of this fantastic thing. Nor did I get a photo of the boys’ favorite part: breaching. This one whale kept doing it over and over, but was quite far away from us. The guide guy said if we went over there to see it, it would stop, but we tried anyway, and it stopped breaching right on cue. Still even seeing it from a distance was pretty awesome, and we did get to see my other favorite thing: tails. The trick was to get it on camera, and despite repeated tail sightings, I only caught a small percentage. Here’s one!

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Part 2: The Bay of Fundy

The whole whale business was in the Bay of Fundy too, but actually spending four days and nights in a cottage on a cliff right above the bay was a much bigger deal. I’ve always had this romantic thing about Fundy Bay, possibly because I grew up listening to the great Gordon Bok song “Bay of Fundy,” which is too obscure now to even have an MP# download. I wanted to post it here to set the mood, but can’t. So just picture a deep baritone and lots of imagery about fog and rain and tide and men battling the waves in heroic fashion.

I am very lucky that my father’s elder sister, Aunt Betty, the matriarch of the Canadian branch of our family, has a beautiful place right on the bay. She invited us to stay with her and took wonderful care of us while we were there. Also, I had to marvel at her, herself. She’s 81. Skis in the winter, golfs in the summer, plays bridge in between, and generally is as lovely and spry and hale as many women decades younger. I look to her as a perfect example of how to be 81, and will keep this in mind for … god… is it only 36 years from now??

The Bay of Fundy is all about tides. It has the highest tide in the world, and sports like “tidal bore rafting” (white water rafting on the tide as it comes in and collides with a river head on) exist there. Everyone has tide clocks and tide charts all over the place and also seems to know by instinct where the tide is and where it’s going at any given moment.  Number one rule of Fundy: DO NOT forget about the tide.

Because when it’s out, it’s hard to fathom that it would come back. Tide in, it looks like this:

Tide out, it looks like this:

And it does this every six hours!

In any case, all this tidal action makes for excellent rock hunting and infinite tide pool investigations. They had the tiniest hermit crabs I’ve ever seen– like the size of a pea. I got one in my shoe during an epic walk across the bay to the formerly submerged island. It felt like a pebble but kept nibbling on me.

While there, we also went to the Cape D’Or lighthouse, this incredible point where the Bay of Fundy (and its tides) is cloven in two. At times an actual whirlpool is created, which has captured at least one kayaker. I amazed myself with my nerves of steel and let the boys have a death-defying climb all over these totally unsafe rocks and crags.

 

Part 3: The Northumberland Strait and Cape Breton Island

I really wanted to go to Prince Edward Island, but it was impossible: all the cottages were booked, and everything required a full week, and it apparently is really touristy now. The Japanese fell in love, en masse, with Anne of Green Gables and now they all come there to get married, and/or pay homage to their bold, red-headed heroine.

But, no worries, there was beauty to spare where we did go, a little cottage on the opposite side of the same water, near the hamlet of Antigonish. If you might guess, as I did, that name sort of rhymes with the Greek “Antigone,” you would be wrong. The first three syllables happen very fast, with a big ISH at the end. It sounds more like “wanna knish?” Just so you know in case you go.

Anyway, we more or less used that as a launching pad for two very wonderful outings. First, to La Forteress de Louisbourg. Second, out fishin’.

Louisbourg is this huge, French fort from the 1740s, when France and Britain were duking it out for control of North America in general. This was apparently a pretty important fort, judging from all the large and imposing structures there. And people all in costume. Lots of French speakers, and military drills all in French. Beautiful seascapes all around, and a boys’ paradise of cannons, muskets, barracks and blacksmiths.

 

 

The drive to and from there crossed Cape Breton Island, and went around the Bras D’Or (“Arms of gold”) lakes, which were stunning in a way that evoked fjords. I got no good pictures of them, however, as I was driving the whole time and it was quite a haul.

On our last day abroad, we had an opportunity to go out on a serious tuna boat, just us. It had this thing called a “tuna tower” where you can go 20 feet up and look out to spot tuna way in the distance. And it had one of those chairs you get tied into when battling deep sea fish. We didn’t need it, however, as we were only jigging (? I think that’s the term) for mackerel.

They let both boys drive the boat *and* use the sonar to locate fish. We were followed by many sea birds, including the incredible rocket-like gannets, who shot down into the water to capture fish the boys threw in for them.

And we got the one and only picture of all three us in our moment of glory. Really, it could not have been a better trip!

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