Flowerpots

 

New Brunswick in July is all about roses.  There are wild roses growing everywhere. They grow along roadsides, along rivers, and along walkways.  People make beautiful hedges out of them and the scent of the roses are lovely.

 

But there are other flowerpots in NB.  We made a special effort to see the Flowerpot Rocks along the Bay of Fundy.  

We made note of the time of the low tide – the optimal time to visit. But like the eager beavers we always have been, we were early.  Not too early; the tide was down and there were others there before us.  But once you make it down to the “ocean floor” as they call it, the rock bed I had expected was anything but rock.  It was mostly mud.  Slimy, thick, red mud.

The diversity in tackling the problem was there for all to see: people gingerly picking their way around the mud trying to stay on the firmer sand and gravel, children delighting in sloshing through the deepest parts, and some others in bare feet just enjoying the feel of the mud and alas sharp rocks/pebbles in their toes.

In hindsight, it would have been better to have waited for the full low tide to have drained the surface a little bit better.  And to have let all the other eager beavers go before, leaving drier footprints in some spots or even just making obvious the deeper slime as a place to avoid.

The flowerpots themselves were worth the mud.  Towering stands of rock with trees and shrubs crowning them were all along the bays and coves of the park.

And after taking advantage of the hoses strategically left at the top of the cliff to clean our feet, we could enjoy the roses along the walkway back to the parking lot.

Flowerpots on solid ground.

W

Coastal Waters

 

 

We traveled a couple of the coasts this past year. Padre Island National Seashore on the Gulf of Mexico was on our list of places to see and we managed to fit it in on our winter trip to Texas. What an education! Camping there was “first come, first served”.  No reservations.  If you get there after noon, there may not be a spot in the campground for you. And the campground is little more than a parking lot. No water, no electricity, just some pavement on the other side of the dunes from the ocean. 

Why do you want to camp there? It does have public washrooms.

If you don’t get a spot in the campground, and you still want to stay in that national park, you had to find a spot somewhere on the beach. Anywhere on the beach.  Hopefully not within reach of the tide.  And not too far from the water where you can get stuck in the soft dune sand. Boy, you have to be careful! 

The upside is that there are 50 miles of beach to choose from.  Although the rangers do suggest having a 4 wheel drive vehicle if you choose this option…

I like beaches, but ones that you walk on, not drive. This beach in Biloxi, Mississipi was delightful! Fine, white sand that you can sink your feet into is a delight.

And no vehicles allowed!

We will be seeing more of the eastern coast this summer, but so far we have been enjoying the views and tidal idiosyncrasies of Fundy Bay. 

We spent a few days in St. John, New Brunswick checking out the Reversing Falls over several hours, starting with low tide. The St John River is fairly fast, rushing over the rocks to the bay.  A few short hours later however, the tide is significantly higher than the river flow, and the flow is going a different direction! Even later, at high tide, the water is rushing again, but back up the river, and over the larger rocks that seabirds had been sitting on at low tide.

Believe it or not, these two pictures were taken in the same place.  As you can see, the low tide was in the morning, and the ocean fog blanketed the area.

The high tide, 6 hours later, has completely covered the lower rocks, and the flow is in the opposite direction.  

Morning fog is a theme along the coastal areas. Leaving Galveston in the morning was like driving at night – low visibility, lights on, drive slow.

After all this, and the fact that we have more coastal destinations planned, I find that I am not fond of the coast. Although the views are phenomenal, the thick fog and wet mist makes everything damp. It’s impossible to dry towels outdoors, and putting clammy clothes on in the morning is definitely not my cup of tea.

Is there any way to move those wonderful beaches away from the coast? I like my water liquid, not airborne.

W

Back On the Road

 

 

There’s gotta be a reason people leave a perfectly good and solid house behind and travel in a trailer.  Is it adventure? Maybe.  The idea of doing something different for a change?

When we travelled full time, our trailer was our home. Everything we needed and wanted was there. But it’s different now.  We have a very comfortable home in a lovely neighbourhood.

So for us it’s a desire to see things we haven’t seen before, or to return to places we want to see again that drives us.

Whatever, we have now begun to get back on the road.

We started with a little 12’ T@b trailer. It wasn’t much, just a place to sleep out of reach of bears, and a tiny fridge. No bathroom.  Good thing we only camped a few days at a time.

There was the first trip just across the border to Wellesley Island to see how it worked. It worked great, and we had a nice spot not too far from the campground showers.

It was a little different on a weekend trip to a balloon festival in northern NY State.  The “campground” was an open field above the airport runway.  There were no bathrooms or facilities at all.  Porta Potties were provided on the airfield, but you had to catch the bus to get there. 

Since we were thinking of doing longer trips, I insisted on a trailer with a bathroom.  “Essential” and “non-negotiable” I said.

It worked.  We got a 17’ r-pod with a bathroom. Yay!

Since then, this new-to-us trailer has been tested by a 35 day trip to Texas, and a 4 month stay by my hubby in Quebec. Starting in the still-winter month of March. Tested indeed.

Now that the pandemic restrictions have eased, we want to finish what we started back in our days of full time trailering. We still have a bucket list that needs ticking off before that bucket comes down on us.

So here we go again. Keep an eye out for future blogs as I attempt to recreate our new adventures.

At least we know how to get back to where our house is. 

W

Exit Strategy

Life as you know it has changed.

Well, maybe not your life. But mine, for sure. I have gone from a nomadic, trailer trash person with the freedom to move whenever I want, to a tied-down, chained to a house, property owner.

No longer will I have the pleasure of answering the question, “Where do you live?” with the answer, “In my trailer.” Inevitably the questioner looked puzzled and said, “yeah, but where do you live when you’re not camping?” Oh, that was fun.

No longer will I be able to do my housework in 20 minutes so I can spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in the breeze watching the swans glide down the lake.

But I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.

Back when we were working, we knew how we wanted our retirement to look. Travel was paramount, and we had a bucket list a mile long. We planned everything out many years in advance. We knew we didn’t want to have a house sitting empty while we traveled at length, nor did we want to have a long-distance rental property, so we sold the house and funiture as our employment end date got closer. 

It was easier than expected to adapt to living in a trailer, moving around the countryside. We came to love it - the freedom, the adventure. It was everything that we had expected, and more. I can honestly say that there was no downside to living the nomadic life.

So it makes it unexpected that our next step took very little planning at all. In fact, I’m not quite sure how it happened. We saw a cheap property, took a chance and bid on it. We lost that low-ball bid, but it took root in our minds that we wouldn’t mind living in a permanent spot again The one challenge to being a Canadian full-time RVer was that we had to find friends or family with land to stay on when the campgrounds closed down for the season and we weren't able to head south yet. For some reason, countries have rules on how long a foreign visitor can stay in their country.

The house that we finally ended up purchasing is a fixer-upper with “good bones”, according to the house inspector.

It’s not a big house, and only one floor. But it has a kitchen that would make any cook’s heart sing.

It is a house with a history. It was originally built as a one room schoolhouse in the twenties, and a fellow just down the road has told us that he attended this school for all 8 elementary grades. We have found an old desktop in the attic, initials playfully etched into it with the date of 1938. It will be an adventure to discover more about the place.

We have spent the summer making it ours, and now we are preparing it, and ourselves, for the coming winter. 

But the hard part had to come first.

Now that we have a “sticks and bricks” home, we no longer need our much loved rolling one.  

With tears in my eyes, I watched the new owners pull our beautiful Airstream out the driveway and down the road. I hope that they will be good to her.

My driveway looks empty now. Life has changed.

W

Family Vacation

My family has Irish ancestors. So when an opportunity came up to go on an Irish tour, we decided to go as a family. We were a lovely boisterous group of seven canucks.

My siblings and I tend to be a little loud as a group. We laugh loudly, discuss things enthusiastically, and generally have a lot of fun. We fit in well in Ireland.

My sister and I took a “Viking Splash Tour”, which is just an excuse to have a quick ride around Dublin in a silly yellow boat/truck. We got to wear badly fitting Viking hats and startle people on the street by yelling at them like drunken raiders.

We learned absolutely nothing, but had a ball.

And we went to see the National Leprechaun Museum – which, despite its name, is not for children. We clambered on oversized furniture and rode down a rainbow to the pot of gold, but the stories told on the tour were scary and occasionally gory.  Not for the Irish are the pretty fairies of Disney fame. The faeries of Ireland are pale and ugly, living underground and taking children from their beds. And the secretive little leprechauns were vengeful when captured. The best that could be said about the little men was that they were excellent cobblers. That’s how they earned the gold in their rainbow pot: they played music to make the faeries dance until their shoes wore out, and then turned around and charged the faeries to fix them. Hmmm. Sounds like some businesses I know….

Unlike their leprechauns, the Irish are very friendly.  Every single resident that we saw smiled at us and usually wanted to engage us in conversation. Cab drivers especially would go on at length on any subject. But even people on the street were eager to stop and chat, and answer questions. One fellow even slipped my brother a bottle of moonshine to sample. 

Yes, we fit in very well in Ireland.

The friendliness of the locals seemed at odds with the strife that Northern Ireland went through not too many years ago. Even after 20 years, there are still pockets of resistance to British rule, and many of the buildings hold reminders of the messy war. 

In Befast, the police stations are wrapped in chain link fencing topped with razor wire. 

And even the townhouse that we stayed in had broken glass and barbed wire at the top of the courtyard wall.

You can’t say that the townhouse in Belfast was a small house. It had 6 bedrooms after all, plus a kitchen and 2 living rooms. It was tall and narrow, running 3 stories high with no basement, and I would be surprised if the entire dwelling was 16’ wide. That made for small rooms and cozy living arrangements. Good thing we all get along so well.

Despite the limited indoor area, I understand that 2 living rooms are common. The one is for family use, and the other to be kept in pristine condition for when guests drop by.

As we were travelling, I noticed that there was a pattern emerging. Each area, be it county or city, claimed to be better than any others. Only theirs had the best local produce, or the best sports team, or the friendliest citizens, or the best whatever. And in each city was the best or the oldest pub.

We, of course, had to test out each pub claim.

A lot of the Irish culture seems to center around drinking.

They are known for their famous Guinness beer and their Irish whiskey. One wonders about the state of the society when there are two or three pubs on every block. We even drove through one little town of maybe 6 or 7 blocks, and counted 31 pubs or drinking establishments. 

We fit into this type of atmosphere perfectly. 

Imagine our delight when we learned that they serve whiskey as an accompaniment to porridge!

In Irish vernacular, they have what they call “the craik”, pronounced  “crack”, which means having fun in a group with drinking and boisterous laughter.

I think we have it nailed.

W

Irish Country Road Bus Tour

It rains in Ireland.

 An awful lot, actually. It rained at least a little every day that we were there. Sometimes it was just an isolated case of fine, misty drops, sometimes it was a five minute downpour.  Sometimes it was an all day drizzle.

This is the reason that everything is so green. 

The mountains are green, and there is an incredible variety of green shades throughout the countryside. The first thing I saw, breaking through the clouds on the airplane’s descent because it was raining, was the patchwork of the farmer’s fields.  

So much green.

We are on holiday!

Which sounds really funny from a couple whose whole life is spent on the road, traveling around. But this time we didn’t have to plan our stays or book our stops. 

We took a 10 day bus tour around the island of Ireland, so we didn’t even have to drive.  It was a nice rest for my hubby, who does the majority of the wheel time when we travel at home. And the challenge of driving on the “wrong” side of the road, down narrow country roads, was in the hands of a professional. 

Our driver was excellent.

The rural roads are so narrow, without any shoulders at all, that 2 buses passing each other have to slow way down to avoid clashing their mirrors together.

 On the hardy western coast the sharp turns required expert manoeuvres. There was one spot that the driver’s side of the coach was almost brushing a rock wall while the other was inches away from the edge of a steep cliff, all at the same time that he was conducting a sharp hairpin turn. 

We, the passengers, applauded.

During the less exciting parts of the drive, our tour director would read us Irish stories, or play Irish music to keep up the ambience.

Our tour director was interesting. His name was, quite appropriately, Patrick. He had an artistic background, having been an actor and director, and he lent those stories the feeling and the realism that kept us mesmerized. 

He was also a little flamboyant, mainly in his brightly coloured shoes.  

Which of course, I envied.  Just a little.

He directed us to all the best castles, and ruins, and scenic sights. Of which Ireland has many.

Every town, no matter how small, seemed to have its own castle, church or a ruin. 

And so much of the old structures were made of stone. There were old stone houses, old stone walls along the roads, and old stone pubs. 

It shows that the stone masons knew what they were doing, that so many of those are still standing many centuries later.

Apartment buildings are not favoured in this country, so in the city homes are generally built as townhouses.

And since you have a long street of these identical tall buildings, they paint each door a different colour. 

Probably so they don’t get lost coming home late from the pubs.

Sheep are everywhere in the rural areas. If they are in a field, it is bordered by hedges or rocks.

But many times they are just allowed to roam up in the mountains, or even along the roadsides. 

At least when they are on the road, they are quick.  We only had to brake hard for one or two during our trip.

There were many highlights of this trip. Castles could be one. How many castles did we see during our bus drive? We stopped to look at nine castles.

I know there were others that we passed, but after awhile it was, “oh, it’s just another castle”.  

The exception is Blarney Castle.

Because of the Blarney Stone, it was a level above the others. 

Despite the very high, very narrow steps to the top of Blarney Castle, I did ascend to the turrets and kiss the stone. 

They actually pay someone to sit at the Stone and hold your waist while you lie on your back, in the most awkward position possible, and give the stone your juicy salutation.

Trying not to think of all the other people in front of you who shared their germs first. 

After all, it’s the experience that counts, right?

Another highlight was the explanation of the game of “hurling” that was given us one afternoon.

It is a distinctively Irish game that involves a flat stick, a hurley, that is used to scoop the small, hard ball off the ground, bounce it in the air, and then hit it like a baseball towards the goal and the poor goalie. Then everyone tears off after it like in hockey, except that the players aren’t penalized for hitting other players with their hurley stick as long as they are “trying” to get to the ball first. The fellow demonstrating the game mentioned that players are often black and blue the next day. 

There is no professional game of hurling. The players are not paid, and will limp into work again on Monday. And amazingly, they then encourage their children to play.

So we saw old and new architecture and learned a new sport.

But then there was the natural world of Ireland. 

Like the 700 foot high Cliffs of Moher tower over the North Atlantic waves.

It seems that they lose the occasional tourist here. Some people just have to go to the very edge to get the best pictures.

The Giants Causeway is built of volcanic lava that cooled in columns.

When you see them from the top, they are reminiscent of stepping stones, which is where their name comes from.  

I wish that our visit hadn’t coincided with one of the irish downpours. It would have been fun to get closer to them, but during a rainstorm, they are notoriously slippery.

We also stopped at an avenue, far from the city, that had 200 year old beech trees embracing over the roadway.

Our knowledgeable tour director said that these particular trees were featured as The Dark Hedges in a “Game of Thrones” show. 

Our hotels during the trip were good, upscale places with all the usual amenities.

However, I could have done without the TVs in our hotel bedrooms. It is too attractive to watch the shows and the news until late at night. And the 6:15 wake up calls were brutal if you did. Hmmmm.  

Did I say it was a holiday? Yes, but one that you had to set an alarm for in the morning. Breakfast was usually served at 7:30, and you had to be showered and dressed with your suitcase packed and outside your door by then.

The only disappointment for me in the whole trip was not stopping for long within the town of Limerick. We only had one quick stop along the side of the road to take pictures of "another" castle, and only to “flash and dash”, as our tour director said. But I did catch a picture of a sign in the area:

Back to the rain that makes Ireland so green. An excursion on our own, for a walk in a new town, can often end up wet. A quick 20 minute trip to a store, although started when the sun was shining and the sky was blue, ended with a downpour long before we even got to the retail area. This happened more than once. Eventually I noticed that the locals always carried umbrellas.

Maybe one day I will be smart enough to do it too.

W