Antigonish to Louisbourg
on the wings of Katrina,
and a pesky horsefly
Sepember 2, 2005

The stay in Antigonish, NS, was neutral at best. Most of us huddled inside our aluminum wombs as it rained continuously for three days, a remnant of the disastrous storm in the Mississippi delta. Not a single complaint registered as we collectively felt helpless for the victims along the gulf coast. In an unfair fight with Mother Nature, a low blow.




Sexy aluminum butts
after a short swim



















The servers and the
Campbell soup witches' brew


Our planned group activity, a soup and bread peasant dinner, undeterred by maritime showers, was not a complete flop. Imagine returning to Brownie or Cub Scout camp, each of you contributing a can of soup, of every variety, tossing them into a boiling communal cauldron, and then stirring with a giant stick. Appetizing, huh ? Follow that with a dessert of below average store-bought blueberry pie (in an area renowned for fresh, wild fruit) covered by a pint of cheap vanilla ice cream. No one fell ill......


At the fort museum a useful quote, in
honor of all the teachers in our caravan.









so it's off to Louisbourg, a French settlement since 1713, on the Cape Breton peninsula. We are now much closer to Dublin than Chicago, but my beloved Cubs need more than Irish luck. The fortress in Louisbourg is impressive
and trumps the Halifax Citadel , but it is all brand new. The clever Canadiens decided to rebuild the fort beginning in 1962 utilizing the original plans from 1700 which were discovered in Paris. Built by the unemployable miners, redundant since coal operations had ceased in the 1960s, the fort has yet to be attacked in forty years. If, of course, you rule out marauding gangs of schoolchildren and elderly white hairs mobilized in tour buses.


Cupcake feeding the goats.
The grass really is greener.






Our campground is in town, on the harbor, smells fishy, and we're packed in like sardines on gravel. Adjacent to a major crab fishery, we took advantage of crab legs @ $4/lb for three nights straight, the genuine article, not the fake stuff (strips of monkfish dyed red on the edges) offered at your local supermarket. Crab with cocktail sauce, crab newburgh, crab pasta, crabby husband, we had it all.
















At Pennington's cove,
a therapeutic journey from the ordinary


On Saturday morning of the holiday weekend, Lynn, the dogs, and I found a deserted beach, eight miles over gravel road, Pennington's Cove, where we reveled in solitude. 78 F., sunny, ocean breeze, and a thundering surf. No litter, no boomboxes, no coppertone, no black flies, no adolescent hormones, only salty air and sandpipers.

An evening at the local playhouse where we were entertained by six energetic, talented, under-30 musicians who tripled as singers, dancers, and humorists in a tradition called a Ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee). We were exhausted just watching the performance, but were given an intermission to allow the audience oatmeal cookies and tea for refueling. Think Kingston Trio, the Limelighters, Hootenanny.




Taking a free ride
on the Halifax ferry








Next stop, pollywhop, as we depart for Baddeck, NS, the resting place of Alexander Graham Bell, who, as most of you history buffs know, invented several useful gadgets, but perhaps the tastiest, the graham cracker.