For Photos: http://willemcoetzee.blogspot.com/2013/09/fotos-4_26.html
We ain’t there yet. Neither do we aspire to get there. But here is something to ponder, which was sent to us and we had run into at a RV show some years ago:
We ain’t there yet. Neither do we aspire to get there. But here is something to ponder, which was sent to us and we had run into at a RV show some years ago:
Trailer Park people.
They did not cause any of the problems that our country faces today. They did not get mortgages they couldn't afford. They did not run banks to the ground with greed. They did not use investors for their personal benefit. They don't even belong to the unions that ask too much of their companies. I'm tired of paying mortgage bills, utility bills, and property taxes. I want to live more simply -- pack up the dog and move into a travel-trailer. I don't mind being called "trailer trash", but I want to get your opinion.            
Ahh...
The simple life, trailer trash, Bring it on!
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A change of our schedule was prompted by two events. First,
after having registered at Forillon in Quebec, we noticed the fellow at the
registration kiosk gave us 3 days, not four as requested. It was a
misunderstanding, definitely attributable to a language problem. But we decided
to let it be and see what was going to happen to the weather. It turned unfavorable.
Second, during our long hike the next day we met a couple that came in the day
before from the direction we would be traveling, to Sugar Loaf Mountain in New
Brunswick and they have been in the very camp ground we were aiming for. They
were not positive about it and since our schedule called for 4 days over there,
we decided to reduce it to 2 days and use the 3 days gained to head for
Eastport, Maine; also omitting Presque Isle, Maine. Some months ago Eastport
was recommended to Willem but it seemed off course and not much thought was
given to it. Neither could he remember what the prime attraction would be.
However, we were now set to go there and called ahead for a reservation. But
first, Sugar Loaf and then 2 nights at a spot to be decided en route before getting
to Eastport.
The day trip from Forillon to Campbellton, New Brunswick,
was almost as long as the ride to Forillon 3 days before, and the going equally
slow. Again, quaint villages along the coast line made for a very attractive and
rewarding drive, which could have benefitted from a clearer day. But such was
not to be and we nevertheless enjoyed it.
New Brunswick Sugar
Loaf Provincial Park turned out to be beautiful and so was the campground, with
most helpful personnel. We had a terrific electric and water site and could
have stayed the 4 days originally planned with no regrets, had the weather been
better and had we not already changed our schedule with advanced reservations. It
was about time for us to catch our breath -- to dig in somewhere for a longer
stint, having been much on the move lately. But it wasn’t going to be there and
then with Eastport now fitted in. The prime attractions at Sugarloaf are the
ski slopes and the place must be abuzz in winter. Now, however, the campground
and hiking trails were freed up, with ski lifts operating, and youngsters
taking their Xtreme sports mountain bikes up for a rather rough ride down!
Campbellton sports many old buildings and Fickie
photographed some, in addition to a monumental stainless steel sculpture of a
salmon fish. This said something about the history and what the area is still
about. Fortunately we were not subjected to heavy rain predicted due to a
tropical storm somewhere far south out in the Atlantic, ever since Forillon.
Fickie figured out a scenic route for us and we targeted a
campground in Lower Queensbury without making a reservation. During a real
leisurely start from Sugar Loaf and slow going to enjoy the mostly woodland and
agricultural scenery, as well as pausing at Hartley to admire the longest
covered bridge in the world, across the St. John River dating to 1901, it was
getting late by the time we approached the exit for the campground.
Unfortunately there was an error in the directions – no exit by that number
existed! Twenty miles further we could exit and decided to track down another
albeit unrated campground shown in our RV Travel Guide. By the time the road had dwindled down to
miniscule, there was the campground right besides Lake George! But the office
was deserted, although some activity was spotted further away in the
campground, which had obviously been drenched – bordering on washed out just
before we arrived. A friendly camper approached us and gave an account of the
rain storm that flooded the place but guided us to an open spot in an elevated
location. It seemed perhaps reachable
without truck and/or trailer getting stuck in the mud. She said Allen would catch up with us the next
morning, as he was engaged with more pressing issues at that time.
Regardless of the storm, the campground was not inspiring at
all and had it not been so late in the day, we probably would have opted out.
But there we were, believe it or not, with full hookups (!) and in no time we
had water, electricity and sewer in house like in some highly rated upscale
outfit and were the ladies focused on one of their reward-class dinner
creations. We decided to reassess the
situation the next morning, which turned out to be clear and although the
immediate surroundings showed an almost sad state of neglect, the lake front
was absolutely spectacular. Fickie ran into Allen in his workshop – a charm of
a guy, who immediately addressed a minor issue we had. But Allan could not cure
what was fundamentally wrong with the camp as a whole. It would qualify for a
worth-while case study in a management text book.
After what amounted to brunch, we left for sightseeing -- Kings
Landing Historical Site in particular (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kings_Landing_Historical_Settlement
). This recreation of a New Brunswick town from the period of 1780-1910 is
rather instructive and akin to the Black Creek Pioneer Village we reported on
during our Toronto visit. It reflects the period after definitive establishment
of British rule in 1763. This display came about when a new hydroelectric
project was going to flood the St John River valley in the early 1960’s, in the
area where loyalists have lived for many generations. Buildings were gathered from over a large
area and in some cases dismantled numbered stone by numbered stone for
reconstruction exactly as it had been before.
Also commemorated at this museum is the role played by British Home
Children shipped from England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland from 1869 to the
early 1930’s ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Home_Children
). The engraved stone includes the words ‘You have within you everything needed
to deal with whatever difficulties that may confront you’. A similar museum covering roughly the same
time period from a French Acadian perspective ( http://www.tourismnewbrunswick.ca/Products/V/Village-Historique-Acadien.aspx
) exists but it was not on our route. The Sunday visit to Kings Landing was so true
to reality that a worship service was conducted in the small centuries-old
Anglican Church building, with authentic pump organ accompanying the singing. One could have been skeptical about potential
showiness but it was conducted in seriousness with characteristic Anglican
liturgy.
All of this brought us to an eye opening awareness of New
Brunswick history. It dates back to the
earliest times of exploration and the powerful French footholds in the New
World. New Brunswick is one of three present day provinces of Canada
collectively known as The Maritimes. Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia being
the others. Wikipedia has informative articles on these and the one on New
Brunswick covers the topics:
- 3.1 Civil War
- 3.2 King William's War
- 3.3 Queen Anne's War
- 3.4 Father Rale's War
- 3.5 Father Le Loutre's War
- 3.6 French and Indian War
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_New_Brunswick
) We do not wish to conduct discourses on history but cannot neglect stressing the
violence between France, England and the US that gave rise to what we know
today, and to prevailing cultural and linguistic differences that will probably
continue to spice things up -- especially for tourists. Extremely interesting! Anyone
wishing to understand the world we find ourselves in needs only to look at the
above topics and the peoples around us to appreciate a thought of the late
Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s from his United Nations Ambassador days.
Something to the effect that simplistic views aren’t always useful; sometimes
we need to complexify to make progress. A lot of blood has been spilled in this part
of the world and incalculable misery was experienced by people simply wanting
to make a living and chasing a dream.
But found themselves uprooted and at best, deported by the tens of
thousands. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expulsion_of_the_Acadians)
. Sadly, the likes still happen today in various forms and places.
Eastport, Maine, is on the northern most eastern border of
the US with New Brunswick, Canada -- on the Bay of Fundy. It is an old
establishment and although miniscule today, it was the second largest American trading
post after New York in 1833. In addition to being a magnificent tourist
attraction, it still accommodates a significant fishing industry. And the fisherman’s wharf is an interesting
place to linger around at and to enjoy seafood at one of a number of
restaurants. It also made for good and
instructive conversation with a friendly, thirty-some year old boat captain, in
the process of landing their lobster harvest of the day.
This fellow was some 20 feet up above the water level on the
edge, operating an electric hoist and raising cages loaded with lobster on a
palate from the deck, where 3 guys continued hosing the cages with ocean water
in-between stacking them for hoisting. It was around 4:00 pm and their day had
started at 4:00 am, when they left for the 7 mile trip to where baited traps
had been placed before. What we saw were cages with lobster that were removed
from traps and claws rendered harmless by colorful rubber bands. They sell their harvest to a processing plant
a mile away at about $5:00 per pound, where the lobsters are further sorted by
size, and shipped alive to dealers all over the US. Local restaurants get them
at $7:00 per pound and further along the line the price goes to perhaps $20 per
pound by the time it reached the most western markets. The loss rate to the fisherman
is low and if any, due to perhaps shell cracking, not death. These end up on
their personal dinner tables.
Lobster season extends to November, when a 45-day scallop
season kicks in, and thereafter a 2-month at most, winter break before haddock
is harvested, followed by others, leading to the lobster season again. These
guys are very busy and hold other jobs in conjunction with the above. So, for
instance, does the boat owner/captain operate a crane at the processing plant,
where they deliver their catch. It thus seemed out of line with what we’ve
heard at Gaspe, Quebec and Willem asked him about the discrepancy. He confirmed
the 20-week work season and dole-dependence across the border but said he very
much more prefers what they are doing State-side. The contrast is really stark.
Here was a guy taking pride in raising his kids far from an urban mess and
providing for his family much more than their daily needs: opportunities to
make and pursue choices. They would have a shot at joining the rich and the
famous if they put their minds to it and cannot blame others or a dependency
system if they don’t. And he would not
want to do anything else. This fellow sounded like someone having stepped directly
out of the pages of Studs Terkel’s magnificent book: Working.
Directly across from Eastport is the Canadian island of Campobello,
a 7-minute ferry cruise away. The ferry season had passed, so we had a
45-minute drive to get there via a bridge. The featured attraction is the
summer retreat of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. It is a well preserved museum
now and the 34 room humble abode offered a glimpse of a significant historical
figure. One could almost hear Eleanor bellowing
out over the humongous megaphone on display, to the kids on the beach: “Come
wash your hands, dinner is ready!” The cottage, which FDR had build was later
on fitted with electricity and it was interesting to see that simple gas/kerosene
lamps at first had to make do even for large social gatherings. Also the 18
bedrooms, school room, play room, dining and living rooms, security contingent
space, servant rooms virtually next to the master bedroom and kitchen with a
coal/wood stove that was especially ordered by Mrs. Roosevelt, Sr. and made
with personalized front embossment: PRESIDENT, for the cottage upon FDR’s
election, etc.
The next day we further explored the village of Eastport,
stirring up a conversation with the local town librarian and appreciating the
collections -- in particular art from the area. Needless to say, Eastport have
attracted artists and especially painters over the centuries and it still does.
Their footprints were left behind and one can see and read quite a bit about
them. We capped the evening with a
seafood meal; Willem with lobster, Susan with crab cake and Fickie and Stella
with different scallop dishes, all delicious. After a late night snack, we
turned in, looking forward to the relatively short trip to Mount Desert Island,
for the first 7-day stopover in more than a month.
Our camp site at
Hadley Point was really beautiful and spacious with water, electricity and a
mobile dumping service. The next morning revealed a very clear and beautiful
day and although Susan felt a little shaky and decided to stay in camp, the
others went forward with an outing to Cadillac Mountain because the weather
forecast suggested we might not experience another day as fine and warm for the
remainder of our stay. It is the highest mountain at 1,500 feet on the Atlantic
coast and offers panoramic vistas that stayed ahead of appetites of the
multitude tourist cameras.
As expected, the following morning started out rather gray
but by noon the sun peeked through the clouds sporadically and Fickie and
Willem decided to follow through with launching the Porta-Bote again – this
time into the ocean at Hadley Point. The tide was high and had it not been for
the wind stirring up sizable choppiness, it would have been a smooth prospect.
It took a while to get the boat assembled and into the water and by then the
sun peeked in again, the wind subsided somewhat and it warmed up nicely. We
boated up and down the coast line for about an hour, dodging many buoys which
we were uncertain about as to what they were for; perhaps marking something of
significance to fishermen underneath. So we beached and returned to camp to flush
the engine and store it until we got to waters which we could fish on nicer
days.
Sunday morning found us at a church, where we ran into an
Afrikaans South African lady, Mimi de Vries, working as a research scientist at
the MDIBL ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Desert_Island_Biological_Laboratory
). She was from our alma mater in South Africa although 2 decades later and
said we were the first Afrikaans South Africans she had run into on Mount
Desert in 17 years. The mutual excitement was contagious and resulted in us
having dinner with her and her husband, Paul Dickson, at their lovely house off
South West Port the evening before we left for New Hampshire. But before that, we had to satisfy Susan’s
need for popovers, a treat peculiar to Mount Desert. This took us to the Jordan
Pond House Restaurant on Monday, where we per chance ran into an Afrikaans
family, Charles and Marianne Du Toit with their 3 kids, ranging in age from 1
to 4, from Cape Town. (We thought of suggesting to Mimi to get out of the lab
more often!) On Tuesday this lovely and interesting family stopped by on their
way to New Hampshire and we enjoyed them very much. It is highly likely that
our paths will cross again later on our trip and we will try to coordinate
plans to such effect.
Finally, we took off for New Hampshire on Thursday September
26, with a view to stopping short and overnight in the Sebago Lake Provincial
Park in Maine before going on to Campton campground in the White Mountain National Forest for 6
days.
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