Nova Scotia

Our Casita (traveling little house) has been on a ferry before (several times on North Carolina’s Outer Banks), but our ferry ride to Nova Scotia from Portland, Maine was a whole new adventure!

The CAT ferry that travels between Portland, Maine and Yarmouth, Nova Scotia

To wrap up our camping season, we chose to leave the country. Okay, we didn’t go very far, as Canada is our neighbor, but we needed passports and an International Health Certificate for Beau. We trundled the Casita to Portland, Maine (a little under two hours) then got in line for the afternoon CAT high-speed ferry. We realized how lucky we were to have a cool place to eat our lunch while beleaguered car passengers waited in the hot sun. (If we’d had one of those mega RVs, we could have had a party!))

We were second-to-last to board the ferry (behind a motor coach!), and Todd had to back the Casita up a long ramp. Fortunately, one of the ferry workers hopped in to wiggle the rig into its place on the boat, only a yard from the drop off at the front! The journey was 6 1/2 hours, and Beau had to stay in the car. No worries. He had the entire back seat to lounge on, and it turns out that by the end of the trip, he was best buds with all of the ferry workers. Who knows how many treats he got?!

We spent six nights in our Casita in Nova Scotia. Our favorite  campgrounds were Risser’s Beach Provincial Park on the ocean south of Lunenburg (Nova Scotia has wonderful Provincial Parks) and a private campground, Jaggar’s Point, in Digby, where our site was on the shore of the Bay of Fundy. The bay is famous for its enormous tidal surges. We watched the tide come in one evening from our campsite as twilight deepened into night. Magical!

Beau loves a picnic table/Or… Why campers use plastic table cloths!

We spent our days exploring lighthouses, walking nature trails, and visiting museums. At the Cape Forchu lightstation in Yarmouth, we learned about the festive “Big Dump” that takes place on the last Monday in November when lighted lobster boats leave the harbor in a parade then “dump” their traps, opening the lobster season. We were able to take Beau on the Leif Erikson Nature Trail where nifty placards told us about the flora, fauna, and history of the cape, and vibrant rose hips and lovely pink wild roses lined the path. Most entertaining were the bumble bees rolling around in the flowers, taking an ecstatic pollen bath. (Check it out on YouTube!)

Our favorite historic district was in little Shelburne, which was once one of the four biggest cities on the  Atlantic coast — along with Philadelphia, New York and Boston — thanks to wealthy American loyalists fleeing the American Revolution.

We toured the Dory Shop Museum and chatted with a master craftsman working on a dory. I was especially impressed by how dangerous fishing was. Dories were launched from sloops then fanned out for miles to find the best fishing spots. If the fog rolled in, they might never find their way back. Oh, no, no no. Count me out, way out!

Low and behold, the master craftsman’s apprentice was a man from Sandwich, New Hampshire, Mick Fearn. What?!!!! (Stop singing, “It’s a Small World,” Diane. It will get stuck in my head!) Mick will be back in Sandwich for the winter off-season. That’s when the master craftsman makes fanciful wooden whirligigs. How fun! (We just happened to visit on the day of the Whirligig Festival. How’s that for timing?!)

At the Cooper’s Shop in Shelburne, a craftsman still makes barrels using historic tools. The house looks a bit decrepit but is actually in excellent shape as it  was rebuilt as a set for the Scarlett Letter movie. It has the perfect 17th century Puritan New England vibe — gray, spare, and a bit foreboding. Reverend Dimmesdale could be inside, don’t you think?

You have read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel, haven’t you? Eleventh grade, maybe? You know, the one where Hester Prynne is forced to wear the shameful red letter “A” for adultery while the guilt-ridden minister (Arthur Dimmesdale), who is secretly responsible for Hester’s fall from grace, whips himself in a closet? Yep, you need to read it.

At the Ross-Thompson House, a terrific guide in period costume taught us about practicalities such as using what appeared to be a giant tin lunchbox to safeguard precious beeswax candles from marauding mice. The expression “to the bitter end” relates to clay pipe smoking. Apparently men, women, and children smoked because it was supposed to healthful. Good grief!

History provides an endless supply of surprising and alarming tidbits. Who said it was boring?! (Okay, I’ll admit that memorizing all the Fredericks, Williams, and Frederick Williams of Prussia may not be the most stimulating way to experience history, but anyone who’s had a good history teacher knows how fascinating it can be. I had one of those teachers in high school, and I hope I was that teacher for some of my own students 🙂 )

In Lunenburg we toured the Fisheries Museum, which was rather like a big barn chock full of fishing gear. Hmmm… The really good part was the two decommissioned boats at the docks outside that belong to the museum. We were able to tour the Cape Sable, a side trawler used in the mid-20th century, and the Theresa E. Connor, a sloop that sailed with twelve dories onboard in the early 20th century. It was fascinating getting a glimpse at the sailors’ living quarters.

Here’s what the sloop looked like below deck. The dining table is surrounded by bunks that sleep twenty-four sailors, two to a bunk. Cozy! That’s where I found the recipe for “Peas Pudding,” also known as “Peas Porridge” of “peas porridge hot” fame. Just when I think I know it all, I learn something new! (I’m not rushing to try this recipe, but I’ll hold onto it. It might come in handy.)

We ate some yummy seafood, of course (shout out to the Red Shed in Yarmouth and The Fish Shack in Lunenburg), and we thoroughly enjoyed the ocean, Beau included.

We had to scramble a bit to get home as the CAT ferry was cancelled due to predicted high winds from what was left of hurricane Jose. We ended up taking a different ferry on a shorter route to Saint John, New Brunswick, getting a bonus night and a morning hike at another terrific Provincial Park — New River Beach — and driving home from there.

We’ve  put the Casita to bed for the winter, but we’re already looking forward to hitting the road again with our sweet little house-on-wheels in May. Sleep tight, Casita — don’t let the mice move in!