Deffense Mechanisms

I’ve seen a few forts in my day. There is a whole spectrum of forts, from snow forts and tree forts to the imposing Fort Henry near my home town.

I’ve seen a whole lot more now. It seems the Americans and the British got into a couple of tiffs over the years and decided to resolve the conflicts by throwing cannonballs at each other.  Then they started a little bit of sibling rivalry called the Civil War.

The forts that we’ve seen on this trip are right on the Atlantic Ocean, and took a lot of battering in all that fighting. We toured Fort Sumter, built on a sand bar in Charleston Harbour, where the first shot of the Civil War was fired. Rocks had to be brought in to stabilize the sand enough so they could build walls on it. The fort took up the entire resulting island. It was a brilliant position for defending the harbour and the city. Except that the fort was built and controlled by the Union, while the Confederates held the city and all the rest of the land around the harbour.

It was a short-lived battle.

Fort Pulaski is just south of Savannah. It was protected by a moat, and with 7 foot thick brick walls it was thought to be impenetrable. Their greatest fear was a siege, so it was built with an amazing water collection and storage system and ample room for supplies.  But then the Union developed a cannonball that was shaped like a bullet that could travel farther and inflict more damage than the commonly used round ones.  After a few well placed shots, the Confederates at Fort Pulaski surrendered.

Defense is important in current affairs, too, and we had an interesting tour of a Marine training base and got to watch a graduation of recruits. These boys and girls had spent 13 weeks away from home to endure the physical and mental endurance testing necessary to become Marines.














After the final order from their drill sergeant, “Dis-missed!”, their proud families ran onto the parade grounds and mobbed them. What a sight.

But humans didn’t invent defense. I found it interesting that all the barrier islands that we saw were surrounded by marsh. It is often so dense that it looks like land, but on the maps is designated water. These marshes are pockmarked with mud flats during low tide, and crisscrossed with deep channels at high tide. They often dull the fury of a storm surge and provide protection for wildlife.

One of the joys of visiting the southern states is the view of the Spanish Moss hanging from trees. It has such an ephemeral look to it as it wafts gently in the breeze.  This trip we learned that the moss is in fact a plant that takes all its nourishment from the air, like an orchid. 

 




This plant is very soft and does not harm its host; therefore no defense mechanism from the tree is required. The moss itself is not defenceless, however, for a simple touch on it will bring out a horde of biting insects locally called “chiggers”.

But even though we are in the south right now, there is a cold front coming in. And we are going to have to brave that cold front and even attack it. Just like in a battle, we are going to rush the enemy. We are going to drive north into the very heart of that cold.




And shortly after, turn tail and run right back south again.

It’s our personal defense mechanism.

W

Go South, Old Man

As November approaches, we feel like we are in a mass exodus.  Besides our group of 21 rigs ambling our way along the coast, we have huge motorhomes and 5^th wheels passing by us, hurrying south on the highways.  When we are on the barrier islands, we see strings of sailboats on the Intracoastal Waterway working their way to a warm winter. And above us all, the Canadian geese are going the same way.

I must admit, the weather has been very pleasant so far.  Even when Hurricane Gonzalo passed a few hundred miles off the same coast we were sitting on, we only experienced strong winds and thundering high surf. Both were very appreciated by the surfers and kiteboarders.

The fishermen may not have thought quite so much of the wind. But it sure didn’t slow them down any. Along the coast, fishing is ever-present.  And the boys have all the toys to prove it. Platforms are hitched to the back of their trucks to hold not just tackle and coolers but also the wagons to pull them on when they get to the pier or beach. 

And one might say that there is a little bit of rod envy among these sport fishermen. Their fishing rods are very long and do not stay inside their trucks, but have to be displayed prominently, attached by racks to the front bumper.

Again, my hubby has not had much chance to partake of that sport. I wouldn’t dare suggest that he was ashamed of his short rod. 

But neither of us would want to miss any of the tours that we get on this caravan. There was a tour of plantation grounds that had been transformed into a sculpture garden. Huge live oaks draped with Spanish moss lined the paths and the roads. The sculptures were carved out of rock and moulded from metal. My favourite was the aluminum sculpture at the entrance titled "Fighting Stallions". I think it would make a great mascot for our aluminum caravan.

The weather was great for our wide open trolley tour of Wilmington, where we passed many large 18^th century homes. 

It was a little cooler for our horse drawn carriage tour of Charleston, but still sunny. Both cities had war stories from the American turmoil of the late 1700's and early 1800's.

We had the chance to stop in for lunch at Ella’s of Calabash. The original owner was the Mrs. Calabash of Jimmy Durante fame. “Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.” The selection of choice from the lunch menu was, of course, seafood.

And we had a tour of Fort Sumter, an island fort just outside of the harbour of Charleston. The island was small, created specifically for the purpose of protecting the city. It was barely big enough to hold the battlement, and much of the fort was destroyed when the Confederates finally lost the war.

But now the cold is catching up to us, and soon we will be off again to a new destination.

Heading south, like all the others.

W

Names and Places

Chocowinity, Hatteras, Kiptopeke, Chincoteague, Assateague, and last, but not least, Chicamacomico. These are the places we’ve been to along the east coast. I’m sure they are originally native names, and I don’t know the exact interpretation of these words. But I’m pretty sure every one of them means “place of great seafood”, because that’s what we found at each spot. 

No matter what town along this coast we stop in, we can always find a fish market with freshly caught shrimp, scallops, crab, and flounder. We even lucked in to finding one having a “customer appreciation” day that served us a free lunch along with our purchase.

In Virginia the clams and oysters (pronounced “orr-sters” by the locals) were plentiful.

South of Chesapeake Bay, they specialize in blue and soft shelled crabs. In fact, one town put up blue crab statues all around the town because they were just so darned proud of them.

The focus of this trip, besides overeating, seems to be the barrier islands along the U.S. Atlantic. Our first campground in Delaware was on a thin strip of land between the Ocean and Indian River Bay. Hubby rushed right out and got a fishing license so he could surf fish off the beach in high tide, and then fish in the bay when the tide was out.

We were in a similar spot when we camped on the Outer Banks, the barrier islands of North Carolina. 

Hatteras Island is a sliver of land about a hundred kilometers long that protects Pamlico Sound from the unpredictable Atlantic. The entire strip is little more than an overachieving shoal, made entirely of sand. Before the locals finally bolstered the dunes to strengthen the shores, during storms the ocean would wash entirely over the island and into the sound on the other side. 

All the houses are built on stilts, using the underneath as carports and boat storage, even today.

With all these geographical drawbacks, it is hard for me to understand how this was the perfect place for the Wright brothers to attempt flight. But Kitty Hawk, which is on this barrier island, was specifically chosen by those two because of it has no trees, and it is made of flat, ocean washed sand with a steady ocean breeze.


There is a huge monument there to celebrate their success.

And in a fitting tribute, the kiteboarders and sailboarders frolic in those same winds, just off the island on the sound side.

Unfortunately, success hasn’t been the word to use when it comes to my “hunter-gatherer” bringing home the bounties of the sea. It’s not his fault. He certainly tries hard, and I am very glad that he at least enjoys the attempts. But the schedule on this trip is very tight, and between tours and dinners, group meetings and travel days, there hasn’t been a lot of free time to dangle one’s hook. Let’s just say that we are grateful for the many local seafood stores.

The tours we have taken so far have run the gamut from aquariums and bird banding stations, to a NASA flight facility, and we even took in a river cruise. Local history is always a favourite with us, and we did a walking tour of a small town called Washington, North Carolina. Of course, right on the coast as it is, it had its share of catastrophes in both the American Revolution and in the Civil War. We found a house built in 1785 that still held a cannonball lodged in its façade.

And to take history just a little farther, we were given a tour of the Aurora Fossil Museum.

When potash was discovered just outside this little hamlet, the fossils uncovered in that mine were rejected in favour of the economical benefit of the fertilizer. To appease the historians and archaeologists, the mining company does give the rejected material to the town to be sorted over. As an attraction, the town and museum allows tourists to also dig through these piles of discarded dirt in hopes of unearthing a fossil or two.






I found the tooth of an extinct snaggletooth shark. Hubby, not to be outdone, spent half an hour on his knees and came up with many more shark teeth and some small vertebrae bones.

We expect to have more history lessons on the way south. But hopefully, the tongue twisting names are finished for this trip.

W

Caravan

car-a-van:  noun;  1) a community travelling in wheeled conveyances along a route. 2) A convoy of trailers. 3) A rolling party.

We were promised seafood on this caravan. We got it in spades. I forgot to notice whether they promised a 3 o’clock wine and cheese.

The trip down to Delaware was uneventful –as all the best trips are. We met up with an Airstream owner in Upper New York State who allowed us to occupy the field next to his house overnight.

 

 That gave us an early start for the attack on the traffic and construction at Binghamton. Once we reached the flat shores of Delaware, it was an easy drive to the State Park where we were to meet our travelling group. We even made it before my afternoon wine time. 

Which unfortunately, I never had because immediately after unhitching the trailer, the transmission linkage on the truck broke. It would not go into any gear, even Park, and needed the parking brake set to stop it from rolling. The tow truck came and took it away at 5pm, just when the dealer closes, so we knew we were going to be without a vehicle overnight.

The benefits of this lifestyle are that at least we are home. We had supper, slept in our own bed, and got up in the morning to walk on the beach.

 A phone call determined that the dealer did not have the part for the 2 hour fix, so we got a car rental for the day. I'm sure if we hitched it up right, it would pull an Airstream.

But we also needed groceries to replenish the fresh produce and meat that we had consumed just to cross the border without grief. All of the tours and meals of the caravan were also off site, but most people carpooled, so that wasn’t an issue.

We got our groceries away just in time to head off to the first group meal at the aptly named “Hook ‘em and Cook ‘em”.  The buffet dinner of flounder, scallops and shrimp reassured everyone that seafood was going to be plentiful on this trip.

This was our first look at our group. It consists of 43 retirees, and most of them have done this “caravanning” thing before. Very few are full-timers like us, but they are all avid travellers. Our convoy has 18 iconic Airstream trailers, and 4 Airstream motorhomes (yes, they make them, too).

The second day, we had 3 tours and a group lunch that kept us busy until late afternoon. 

We saw a museum about a Dutch shipwreck off the coast, an aviation museum, and a tour of a “lightship” – a floating lighthouse that sat a few miles out from the harbour in the early 1900’s.

 And we got to pick up our truck.

I finally sat outside that evening with my wine and cheese.  As people walked by, they would come visit and join us, until we had about a dozen of our group sitting with us, drinking and snacking until dark. I think we were immediately labelled as “party animals”.  As if.

It took only 2 hours of travelling to get to our next campground in Virginia. But 45 minutes more to merely go the 500 meters from the front gate to our allotted site. More trailers than just our 22 were lined up coming in. This was going to be a very busy area for the next 2 days.

We were barely set up before we had to dash off to another tour, and then had a group meeting after a quick supper. At this rate, the 3 bottles of wine I bought in Delaware will last all 6 weeks of the caravan. 

The reason the campground was so busy was they hold OysterFest in this particular campground every fall. Tickets are sold to keep the number of participants down to 3500. Booths are set up that offer clam chowder, steamed crab, and oysters raw, cooked, and frittered. 

Side dishes were also available: salads, fries, and hush puppies (fried bread that looks kinda like an unfrosted timbit). Everything is free with your purchased ticket. Our group tickets were bought last December before they were all sold out.

Some eating groups were claiming their space by decorating the provided picnic tables early in the morning.

Our caravan group followed suit. Although, unprepared, the best we could do was to post flags and flamingoes and cover our tables with aluminum foil – Airstreams for eating on, one could say. 

We certainly couldn’t outshine our neighbors, who dressed as hippies and had psychedelic clothes and décor.

Once the feeding frenzy began at noon, we had to negotiate long lineups. They meandered so deep among the picnic tables that one had to start at the booth you wanted and follow the line back to find the end of the queue. This event lasted 4 hours, and by the time it was finished, nobody was interested in dinner.

Our caravan leaders allowed us to relax the next morning to recover from our bloat. And then got us an afternoon tour of nearby Assateague Island, where wild ponies graze. This is a National Wildlife Refuge, so vehicles are confined to a small area. They do have a large trail system for hiking, biking, and the tour bus. We were able to get a good view of the beautifully coloured horses, mostly paints and palominos.

With our evening free, I was able to enjoy my wine while hubby grilled up some scallops. We started a campfire, and again drew people in for another impromptu party. I think we’ve got a reputation.

W                                                                             

Rideau Paddling

Ah, the Rideau Canal. A renowned world heritage river. 

It inspires a romantic vision of paddling through narrow channels, protected from the buffeting wind, and watching graceful yachts gliding wavelessly along beside you. 

Let me tell you the reality.

It’s been a long time since we’ve done a canoe trip. A very long time.

As we set off from the Kingston Mills lock to start our Rideau adventure, paddling did not feel comfortable.  As 20 year veterans of canoe trips, surely the 4 year hiatus we had taken would not have made us forget so much. But in the bow, my feet were cramped. And in the stern, hubby was having a hard time keeping the canoe tracking straight. Even with a slight tail wind. We stopped and readjusted our load four times to lower the stern a little more, but to no avail. We zigzagged up Colonel By Lake and the River Styx (that’s its real name!) and to our first lock. The lockmaster didn’t seem confident of our ability to reach the goals we had set, but dutifully let us pay for passage anyway. As the waterway narrowed, our course seemed a little easier and we were able to enjoy the views of herons along the way. We berthed at the second lock station as planned.

We settled easily into the routine of setting up camp. My job was to prepare our bed and then relax with wine and cheese. I’ve always enjoyed this lifestyle.

This was comfort camping. Lock stations have flush toilets, manicured lawns for our tent, and drinking water from a tap. After a warm and sunny day, we slept well on an air mattress. Weight is no object on this trip, since we weren’t planning on portaging.

The next morning, as hubby was loading the canoe, he realized our mistake from the day before. We had been paddling the canoe backwards!! No wonder it was so difficult to keep it straight. It was a rookie mistake that must have had the first lockmaster shaking his head. Ahh, the wonders of asymetrical canoes.

Too late for blushes, we set off properly on our second day. To no surprise, travel was easier and we managed well over 20km and still set up camp by 3pm.

Overnight, the rain started and the wind began to blow. We delayed departure until the rain stopped, but not the wind. It didn’t seem so bad in the narrow canal by the lock. But when we hit Opinicon Lake we realized that we had underestimated the wind gusts. It whipped up high waves and white caps on the large lake.





At least we were smart enough to seek shelter in a cove for about an hour until the wind was steady, where we spent our time with a game of cribbage. There is a narrows between that lake and the next, where we stopped for a while. We congratulated ourselves on surviving the angry open waters and keeping the water out of our boat. And then we were nearly swamped by a young driver in a fast boat flashing through those shallows clearly marked with a speed limit and a “no wake” sign.

We stopped early that day, knowing that we had an even bigger lake to tackle the next day. What happened to those narrow channels that comprised the Rideau Canal? Oh. Those are farther north. Much farther.

Big Rideau Lake has some gorgeous cottages along its shores. It also has very little in the way of camping spots. 

We stopped at the provincial park on the west shore and got a spot right on the water.  No lush green lawn, nor flush toilet available. But we did have a campsite where we were able to get a lovely fire blazing to ward off the plunging temperatures.

After reading the warning signs at information posts, we hung our dishes and locked our food away from marauders. Bears, you say? No, raccoons. I understand they can be very persistent and noisy in the middle of the night, and have startled many a camper by fighting over the goodies left out by more careless overnighters.

We managed to get all the worst weather on the biggest lakes. After leaving the park, it started to rain. It had already been cold and windy, but several layers and an energetic attitude will hold that off for hours. Add in the rain, even with rain coats, and one starts to chill. We only lasted 3 hours before we started looking for places to dry off and warm up.






We landed at a marina, asked about a campground or even a restaurant nearby. They were kind enough to recognize our wet, bedraggled look and offered a storage shed as a dry spot to pitch our tent. We gloried in their hot showers and appreciated the use of their clothes dryer.

The waterway finally narrowed just before Smiths Falls, and the weather improved correspondingly. We went back to tenting at the lock stations.


I must say, the customer service that the lock employees show is exemplary. In trying to avoid the wet grass early one morning, hubby was walking alongside the lock to when an item from his backpack fell out and into the water. We were unable to retrieve it ourselves and hung around until the lockmaster showed up for the day. We could see it easily and it was surprising that the water in the lock was as deep as 7 to 8 feet – well out of our reach. After pointing it out to him, we went on our way, certain that it would grace the bottom of the lock for years to come.  But, two locks later, we were told that they had managed to fish it out and that someone would meet up with us later to deliver it. And then we were told stories of how they had used rakes on the end of a rope, or a magnet as in this case, to retrieve all sorts of things from the locks. We were very impressed that they would go to so much trouble for tourists passing through.

Eventually, the days got warmer. The Rideau River got narrower, although it was still a good size. It meandered through wetlands and developed areas alike. We would watch kingfishers dive from 30 feet up to catch a fish and see turtles stretching their necks for a glimpse of the sun, and then around a corner would be glamorous mansions with hot tubs and huge windows and more rooms that any family could use at one time.

We stopped before the main core of Ottawa, where the canal is narrow enough to throw a ball from one side to the other and joggers and bikers escort you along the waterway.  We had seen what we had wanted. For us, Ottawa wasn’t the destination – the canal itself was. 

It took nine days to paddle about 200kms, under good weather and bad. It had been indeed a very long time since we had undertaken a trip like this, but it reminded us of all the reasons why we used to do it.

To us, the Rideau Canal was a romantic vision made reality, mostly thanks to the people along the way.

W

East Coast Visit

The east coast weather welcomed us with its typical fog and drizzle, interspersed with actual rain. The Halifax car rental welcomed us with “Oh, but we don’t have a car for you yet”. 

For us, setbacks merely give us opportunities to experience what we might have missed otherwise. Like meeting the young and friendly doorman that gave us a place to stash our luggage, and the little deli/café on Hollis St. where we grabbed a late breakfast. Not to mention the walk in the rain, sans umbrella, to downtown Halifax.

Our ride, once it arrived, was a late model Jeep. It seemed that all six cylinders strained to get up the steep hills of Halifax, and we headed towards the home of our nephew, relying on memory for the address as this was our first visit. Seems our memory was just a little bit faulty. Good thing no one was home next door.

It was four days before the sun came out to stay. By then we knew how to get to Costco, the Superstore, and Home Depot. Oh, and the liquor store, of course. After the rain stopped, we also found a great walking trail. All uphill from where we were staying.  But a steep hill at the start is a very good warm-up for a long walk, and a great way to cool down on the way back. This multiuse trail is a smooth pathway along the hydro lines. It could get very busy in the mornings when we were walking, and was long enough that we only saw one end – after 45 minutes we turned around.

With the brighter weather we explored the Farmers Market down by the waterfront, checking out the fresh produce, jams and lambs. If we had known in advance, we wouldn’t have eaten breakfast before coming. There was an astounding variety of food vendors at the market, and would we have stayed, we could have eaten well for days.

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One midweek day was spent at Peggy’s Cove. I couldn’t imagine coming on a weekend. The parking lots were full, and the roads blocked by walking tourists. The iconic lighthouse was surrounded by a steady stream of sightseers, large white rocks, and the colourful homes of the town. The restaurant next door served up treats such as fresh fish and chips, seafood chowder, and lobster.






We joined the other tourists walking the main street and dodging tour buses. We discovered a bas-relief carving of the fishing lifestyle chiselled into a 30 foot stretch of solid granite.  We also discovered why the tourists blocked the street. There are no sidewalks in Peggy’s Cove. I guess the 35 year-round residents don’t require them.

While the sun was shining, we also took the time to visit other spots.  Halifax Gardens is set out on one full city block and filled with flowers and unusual trees. And an ice cream shop perfect for a hot sunny day. Point Pleasant Park was much bigger than we gave it time for. We took a stroll along the ocean and I dipped my toes into the sea at the beach. Gosh, we really need to stay longer another time.

The two week stay was finished off with a Ghost Walk in the Halifax downtown core, and the requisite family lobster dinner.

This is the east coast, after all.

W

Adapting to Change

This lifestyle demands change.  You learn to adapt to changes in locale, changes in time zones, and often changes in plans - even when married to a researcher/planner extraordinaire, as I am.

For our second winter in the southern states we pulled a different trailer, one that was 7’ shorter than our original trailer. We had to fit all the necessities of life into a smaller space, and usually in different cupboards than what we were used to. In the early part of the trip, dinnertime was a scavenger hunt for dishes, spices, and dry goods. The fridge was always found with no problem. That’s where my wine was.

When we were overseas we stayed in resorts and hotels, never any longer than 2 weeks in one spot. We became proficient at packing and unpacking, getting comfortable with our new surroundings in record time. Even our last trip to our old hometown involved a week stay at a hotel before we moved into a rental house. I’m optimistic and assume that all this change is good for the memory. And since midnight trips to the bathroom are usually made in the dark with eyes at half mast, our memory muscle gets a great workout every time we move.

But even with all the changes naturally occurring in our life, we didn’t expect the “retirement” part of our life to change.

Until hubby took a one-time offer last summer, and decided he really liked the work. That’s why last year’s one time acceptance turned into a second one this spring, and maybe one for this fall. And a whole bunch of potential offers on the horizon.  The bonus, besides a happy and engaged husband, is the travel involved. The potential work sites are across Canada, or over into Europe, Asia, even Africa.

 And travel is one of our favourite things at this point in our life. Not that we expect that to last forever.

We expect that to change.

W

Back to the Beginning

We weren’t long across the border and into Canada when we had to push farther into the north.  It wasn’t pleasant crossing into winter to begin with.  Snow still made its presence known in leftover piles on lawns and parking lots. Ice still held Lake Erie and many other smaller lakes hostage. The temperature refused to nudge up into the comfortable-without-winter-coats range.

 But we had been persuaded to travel back to the town that we left when we first retired. This was a “kick back and relax” type of visit – at least for me. Hubby had to get up at 6 every morning and get into what passes for rush hour traffic in this neck of the woods - very few slowdowns, unless a deer crosses in front of you. Quite a pleasant change after experiencing Toronto traffic all last summer.

Deep River was quick to welcome us with cold biting winds and an early morning dump of snow.

Hubby tried to take the snow off the truck with several handy items: his sleeve, his hat, and as a last resort, his bare hands (we haven’t had gloves for awhile).  

He even tried an emergency trip to the nearby Giant Tiger only to find bathing suits and flip-flops displayed on the shelves.  Finally a Canadian Tire employee helped him locate a snow brush hiding in the very back of their store.

This has not been an unhappy return, however. Many friends have greeted us with surprise and pleasure, and the laid back and open attitude of the town has been a welcome relief after travelling to areas where porch furniture is chained down and pictures of guns are prominently displayed in windows to deter burglars.  We fell back, way too quickly, into the habit of not locking our doors when off on errands.

Our first week was spent in the downtown hotel. Man, had we been spoiled by our previous experiences of hotels in Toronto and other larger centers. This was a small town hotel, and its room size reflected that. It was pretty telling that we felt crowded in that hotel suite after living comfortably all winter in a 27’ trailer.

We didn’t need to be convinced to spend time outdoors, even if we did have to wear winter coats and brand new gloves. We walked around the town and down by the waterfront, pointing out both the familiar and the new. The trees were still dormant and the river still frozen, but people were telling us that it was finally spring. How can they tell?

I had forgotten how cold the tap water is in this town.  Although it can be refreshing on summer days, the first evening, brushing my teeth caused a brain freeze.  It was a quick reminder to run both the cold and hot taps for my morning ablutions.

After seven days, we relocated to a small house. Very small, but at least four times bigger than the “suite” we were in. We shared the property with a family of skunks. Not willingly, mind you. At first we tried to block off the space under the gate so they couldn’t get back in after their nightly sojourns, but their prowess in digging was better than ours in finding obstacles. By the time the first week was over, we put up the white flag and resigned ourselves to sharing the back yard. Very carefully.

Slowly, the massive snow dump by the grocery store became more hill than mountain. The ice on the river disintegrated and the water rose to cover the marina pier. My daily walks around the town were more pleasant and less hurried. The gloves could be discarded.  Again. We used the barbeque on the back porch, and enjoyed the company of our new co-resident, a red squirrel.

There will be spring this year after all.

 W