Maquinna's Poop du Jour

Tales from the Honeymoon, Part One

Two weeks spent tooling about Maine and Nova Scotia in an overloaded convertible (best described in the same manner as the helicopters in the Canadian air force - 2000 pieces of metal flying in close proximity) are bound to give rise to all kinds of stories and vignettes. Here are some of the things we encountered during the road trip:

1. 'Extra weather'. This is when you can see that there is a beautiful blue sky painted with the faintest white brush strokes of cirrus clouds, way, way up there, but a lower layer - the 'extra weather' - of thick dark clouds, mist, fog, and intermittent rain - continues to torment you. Nova Scotia seems to have plenty of this. This led to various hopeful exclamations on Craig's part, such as:

a) "I think it's clearing up!" (appropriate response: spit at him)
b) "I think it's breaking up!" (appropriate response: smack him)
c) "I think it's brightening up!" (appropriate response: pull hat down over his eyes)

2. Hanging a 'just married' sign on the back of one's car makes people quickly forgive you for anything foolish you might do, sometimes benefits you in mysterious and unforeseen ways, and inspires large semi-trailers sandwiching you on the highway to honk vociferously and give you the big thumbs-up. Announcing our newlywed status resulted in one campground owner paying our breakfast bill (behind our backs!) at a local cafe, prompted an elderly Acadian woman to present us with a green ceramic dog statue she just happened to have in the back of her car (more about Vaunda d'Entremont another time), and made customs officials take pity on us and accuse the car of emanating 'a certain glow'. We're just glad they didn't find the plutonium we smuggled back over the border.

3. Don't ever order the 'Big As Your Head Burrito' on your honeymoon. Especially not from a supposedly Mexican restaurant whose only tequila offering is Jose Cuervo. 'Nuff said.

4. Meat Cove. Meat Cove? Yes, Meat Cove. A remote outpost on the northern most tip of Cape Breton, at the end of 8 km of dirt road, where one can camp on cliffs falling at 80 degree angles straight into the ocean. If it weren't so socked in with fog, you could pretend you could see all the way to Newfoundland. A fellow traveller told us that the government stepped in there during the 1950s to stop rampant inbreeding. I have to say I don't doubt it for a moment.

More later...

posted by Maquinna @ 3:27 p.m.