Day 4

In which we leave Paradise, and end up in paradise. The morning doesn't dawn, as much as it gradually lightens through an overcast sky. We are quickly on the road after breakfast, first stop Annapolis Royal. Brad realises too late that he has forgotten to try get a walnut from the hundred plus year old trees outside our B&B, which he meant to do, but otherwise we are right on track. Soon enough we arrive in Annapolis. This tiny town around Fort Anne started off Scottish around 1604, then became successively French, then British. Capital of Acadia and Nova Scotia for almost 150 years; little sense of it's former importance remains. It's a sleepy, almost deserted holiday Monday and we wander through the old graveyard and around the rolling hills of the Fort almost alone.

We looked for and located the German bakery of some renown, but left empty handed after seeing their prices. 5 for a cookie was awfully steep, and Brad greatly offended the proprietor, presumably baker, by asking her if she made local New Brunswick specialty, whoopie pies. I could have told him, no reserved proper German would be likely to have anything named whoopie pie in their repertoire 😅

Onwards and southwards we wind, stopping by sights that appeal, such as pretty lighthouses, old car lots, and cathedrals that materialize on the side of a quiet road out of nowhere. Inside the car, I'm internet searching the whole way for any grocery store on the island that might actually be open! I resort to posing the question on Reddit, which gains us an answer, but also much surprise that we might expect such a thing!

The Gilbert's Cove lighthouse has perched in place since 1904. This little house was where the family with 5 children lived and worked, with the lighthouse keeper duty passing from father to daughter before being decommissioned. Today we can tour through it, stop in the quaint tea room, and browse the local crafts in the gift shop. It doesn't get much more local than this, as the ladies of the historical society are meeting in one of the rooms. Fingers and tongues both fly as they knit and chat, and not a stitch is dropped as we say hello.

A red and white classic Ford shining in a roadside gravel lot drew Brad in to get a closer look, and it's down home proprietor Wayne allowed that it cost nothing to look. I'll talk to you for free he says, I ain't gonna bill you, I'm not a lawyer. Wayne could have billed for talking, entertaining as he turned out to be. He fills us in on what being a local means, helping out no questions asked because it's the neighborly thing to do, not being showy. Connections to people and to the area seem to matter most here.

Regrettably we have to pull away from Wayne before yet another story occurs to him. We have a brief look around at the historical homes in Yarmouth before arriving at Boulder Cove cottages. We are sitting on the porch, with steaks on the grill and watching a glorious sunset , quietly content to ease into the end of another long day with an absolute appreciation of the beauty around us.

And along the way today, Ron produces for Brad a walnut to take home. He had at some point before we left this morning, gone outside and got one. So a walnut tree may yet grow at our house, with the most auspicious of beginnings.Læs mere