A Forgettable Journey

It was a simple plan. Pack up enough clothes, the paddle gear, computer and camera and drive to Nova Scotia for the Dartmouth Breast Cancer Survivor Dragonboat races. Stop in Montreal for a day to visit the Botanical Gardens and area sights, hit some of the touristy spots on the East Coast and be back in Toronto for the Humanist Conference on the long weekend.

All went well until we were just past the Mattawa golf course. Something was bugging me – like how did my wife get her life jacket and paddle gear into two suitcases. I found a place to turn around – only an hour out of North Bay - and return home to put the blue bag of paddle gear in the car. I thought my wife would be more upset. As we were passing through Mattawa again she mentioned how little things had changed in the sleepy town at the confluence of the Ottawa and Mattawa Rivers. I said I thought the wooden statues were a good addition but she said she meant from only two hours ago, not in the past five years.

The Montreal Botanical Gardens were in full bloom, the lilies at their peak. We did the de rigueur photo ops of tai chi poses in the Chinese Garden, did some meditative thinking in the Japanese Gardens, sang a few bars of Edelweiss in the Alpine Garden and ate some wild raspberries in the First Nations area. Four hours later, we hopped on the free shuttle to Biosphere and ate a quick lunch before visiting the animals and birds. We were back at the hotel enjoying some very fine cuisine when the thunderstorm broke. We will return to the gardens for the spring flowers. It is on the to-do list.

The Dragonboat Festival was everything the Warriors could hope for as teams from Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Saskatoon, Winnipeg, many Ontario teams and teams from New Brunswick and Nova Scotia joined in races and socials. Breast Cancer Survivor teams are known for their creative names: Sistership Storm, Chemo Savvy, Bosom Buddies, Pink Sensations, Wonder Broads and RowBust. At the banquet, we dined with two paddlers from New Brunswick who were having media problems with their name: ‘Tit Bateau, which in the only officially bilingual province means Little Boat (Petit Bateau). Somehow, both the English and French news people took offense at the brilliant bon mot, but the women insisted and their bright red and yellow shirts proudly show the team name.

The Warriors placed well in the races, finishing in the top five each day, but it was RowBust from London who took the first place medals. Twelve dragonboats rafted for the carnation ceremony as the wind slowly pushed the flotilla past the viewing area. With half the paddlers in the boats and half on shore, it was a very moving ceremony.

We had already visited the home of Alexander Keith’s brewery and tested some of his fine beer, so we caught FRED (Free Rides Every Day) the tourist shuttle and toured the Citadel in time for the firing of the noon gun. In the harbour was the replica of the Amistad, the slave ship, and it was eye opening to see the small size of the boat that brought slaves to America (and later back to Africa). Also at the marina was the Sackville, a restored corvette from the Second World War. I was good to see her, since years ago I had made a small donation to help in the restoration. Further up the harbour were most of the Canadian fleet, including a sub in dry-dock. Maybe someone should start a collection to restore that leaky tub.

The Marine Museum was interesting, however I was surprised to learn that a number of Canadian visitors had never heard of the Halifax explosion. That story alone was worth the visit while we waited for the rain to end. I did learn what the Plimsoll line meant, correcting my idea that it was the line along my body that was subject to sunburn when floating on my back in salt water.

Peggy’s Cove was everything one would expect. We arrived in time for two or three photos before the fog came in. I assured my wife that the ghostly image in the background is a lighthouse but it may be one of the Oriental tourists who were posing everywhere. The roads along the coast offered many seascapes and photo opportunities. They also looked like a great place to ride a motorcycle and after I squeaked the tires on the Chevy a couple of times, my wife reminded me that we were not on the Honda.

The next morning we loaded the car and headed for the Hopewell Rocks. We got our daily exercise hiking up and down the cliffs. We arrived just as the tide was going out, but we could not wait until full low tide to walk all the way out to the Flower Pot Island. But there was time to glance in the back seat. While my wife was in the washroom, I checked the trunk. The Blue bag was there, along with extra paddling gear we were ferrying home for other Warriors who had been shopping and needed luggage space.

We had ice cream at Alma where we got a very good look at some modern fishing boats, but then it was time to head for New Brunswick or possibly Quebec as we hoped to make it home the next day. It was in Cabano that we discovered we had left a green suitcase behind in Truro. Neither of us accepts the responsibility for leaving it sitting on the ground outside the Comfort Inn. I figure anyone who carries a bag outside should see it safely stowed inside the car, whereas the better half says the chauffeur is responsible for luggage. Fortunately, some kind soul turned the green suitcase in to the desk and it is supposed to be coming home via Purolator.

Now I can do very well without my makeup and sleeping in the buff is not a problem, but someone in our household holds different views. So you have to wear the same underwear and shorts for one more day – no big deal! The conversation lagged a few times on the rest of the trip – consisting of “Blue Bag!” and “Green Bag!”

Road signs are always fun to compare. The Moose warnings in Nova Scotia depicts a moose that appears to be tap dancing, while Quebec’s moose had its head back in a full run. Ontario’s moose have the head down, charging. Deer in Quebec have 4 feet while those in the other provinces show only two. The sign for a village in Quebec named St-Louis du Ha! Ha! brought much speculation. The waitress, Caroline, at the Cafe de Brume thought it had something to do with clocks, but even Wikipedia did not give a positive explanation of the name.

My favourite sign was in Quebec where motorists are warned: “Caution: Animals do not always pay attention!”

Green bag!