Road trip redux
Camping trips that end with sunny weather are a blessing from Heaven. No packing of wet tents under sullen skies, while memories of the trip are slowly washed away. We were up while the dew was still heavy (meaning, before noon) to stuff the sleeping bags into their tiny sacks, deflate the air mattresses that have been slowly shrinking for better than two weeks, rolling tents and stowing them on the roof. Twice makes perfect, if the keys to the van are stowed on the roof at the same time. The bright yellow scars of the tenting ground will soon heal, because grass is a very strong weed.
A van with three people and a dog has an interesting feature. A vortex, constantly swirling, sucking new articles into the void and throwing others out. Like my missing keys, which were found on the edge of the maelstrom while clearing the van for a reload.
We made our goodbye to the operator of Campbell’s Cove, with a resolve to return one year from now. Then, banking time and a pose for a group picture with the dean of local historians. A quick coffee stop in Montague and straight south to Wood Islands where we were queued for the 13h00 crossing. Note that a fuel surcharge is in effect on the cost of carrying us over the bounding main, with porpoises leaping with joy that tourists have paid even more to see them. My GPS skills aided in finding our way to visit friends in the hills, a long way from the main road. Saw an honest-to-goodness windmill, one of the Nova Scotian species. Beats birdwatching.
I forced the rest of the family to drive me up and down the narrow hilly streets of New Glasgow so I could take the pictures of our houses I had neglected to take forty years ago. Downtown to find a restaurant. After a police car had passed us for the third time in two blocks, we realized they weren’t checking out the new tourists in town, but were in fact preparing for a parade. In the local antique shop, you can get a used milk bottle for $85. They piped us out of town.
The highways in Nova Scotia are wide, smooth and fast; we were on the outskirts of Halifax by dark. I now confess that navigation by GPS on the autoroute is simple, but in a city there is WAY TOO MUCH information available. Our map traces will show circles of confusion as we turned at any corner that seemed to lead northward. By sheer concentration, we arrived at our destination where the extended family awaited.
While the interested went downtown to watch late-night buskers eat fire, i stayed close to the edge, ready for bed.
