Farewell to Nova Scotia - Halifax, Canada
Halifax, Canada
We travelled from Cape Breton to Halifax on what the Irish call "a soft day". We stopped to take a photo of the Canso Causeway in the drizzle, wondering why we didn't do it in the sunshine five days ago, then pick up the scenic Marine Drive along what they call the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. This is the bit that faces south-east into the grey Atlantic.
For once the scenic drive is actually scenic as it hugs the coast along little rocky coves and harbours. Unfortunately we can’t see very much of it. There are quite a few attractive villages at each touch of the sea all the way to the $7 ferry which is the third inlet-crossing ferry that we have used, all run by the same organisation, all apparently subsidised by the government. It’s a little further across here, and leaves at half-hourly intervals. The road has been very quiet and there are only two cars on our ferry trip.
A short distance takes us to Sherbrooke, which has a folk museum with preserved houses, but we are keener on lunch. One café is closed on Sundays, one is only serving brunch, we can’t find the museum tea room so this leaves the House of Jade and its “Canadian and Chinese food”. It looks a bit threadbare, but the grub is perfectly acceptable and at a good price. We give the museum a miss as we find that old clapboard houses look pretty similar to new ones, except that they are starting to use pre-coloured UPVC clapboard cladding on the new houses. The one notable occurrence on the trip was spotting a porcupine snuffling around on the hard shoulder, so that’s one out of three after yesterday’s zoo.
At least it was dry so we could stretch our legs. After Sherbrooke the coast is supposed to be extra-scenic but we didn’t think it was as good as the first part - and then it started to rain properly. We haven’t had such rain since driving back to Vancouver at the end of May. We make one damp stop at Prince Alfred Arch, an historic site where Prince Alfred, son of Victoria and Albert, landed to visit the Tangier goldmines in 1851. He was given a gold nugget as a souvenir. You would think they needed it more than him.
Between Sherbrooke and Dartmouth the settlements start to look rather run-down; a lot of places are closed down or for sale (there are a lot of places for sale all over the Maritimes to be honest). Approaching Dartmouth/Halifax in the pouring rain through retail parks and industrial estates does not present the best image of anywhere, but at least we are here and dry with a view overlooking the power station which is painted in the same red and white stripes as the lighthouses.
We have planned a day with inside visits on the Dartmouth side of the harbour, as the forecast is for weather slowly clearing up with showers. In fact it clears up faster than expected, and the temperature is back in the 20s by lunchtime. However our first stop is up by the airport for The Canadian Atlantic Aviation Museum, which wins the prize for the most airframes (25) in the smallest space. It is also very informative, with many wall panels commemorating pioneer figures from the area.
Of particular interest was a replica of the Silver Dart, which was the biplane designed by Alexander Graham Bell which performed the first manned flight in Canada at Baddeck. What had not been apparent until we saw the photos was that the flight “over the lake” actually took places when the Bras D’Or was frozen solid and they were using the lake as a runway.
Back south to the Shearwater Aviation Museum which is attached to the 12 Wing base of the RCAF. The most interesting exhibit here is a Fairey Swordfish biplane torpedo-bomber from World War II, which was rebuilt from an abandoned airframe looking something like a rabbit hutch and a beer-bottle crate. It was made airworthy again but curiously flew only once, in 1992.
By now the sun was shining and we headed for Fisherman’s Cove, which promised to be touristy but actually wasn’t overdone. It’s a working fishing village with several seafood restaurants and a lot of fishermen’s huts which have been painted in bright colours and are low-key craft shops. The cove is by the Eastern Passage out of Halifax Harbour and opposite McNab’s island. After rather over-doing our seafood intake at lunch, we were pleased to walk it off on a neighbouring boardwalk by an attractive beach area.
A drive down to the end of the harbour for the views of flat Devil’s island (no public access) and then a couple of stops in Dartmouth to inspect the view of Halifax across the river and the cross-harbour ferry completed our day. Dartmouth town itself is quite pretty with a lot of old houses and trees, although it is surrounded by oil refineries and less salubrious areas such as where our hotel is. By the ferry terminal we discover that the council uses a geothermal cooling system; they extract cold energy from the sea water in the winter and store it up, then use it to air condition the municipal buildings all summer. A kind of reverse heat pump. There is a lot of big-ship traffic on the harbour – we see a very ugly square ship unloading cars from Europe, all wrapped in white plastic, several container ships, a cruise ship and naval vessels at dock in Halifax. Car parks full of cars wrapped in white plastic look a bit like something out of Dr Who.
Halifax itself looks a lot more modern - which is not surprising as much of it was flattened in 1917 by the largest man-made explosion prior to the atom bomb. This was caused by two ships, one stuffed with munitions, colliding, the munitions ship Mont Blanc being set alight and drifting towards harbour. Some 2,000 people were killed, many more being wounded or blinded by flying glass or the fireball as they watched the burning ship explode. One hero was signaller Vincent Coleman, who stopped the trains from bringing in more potential casualties, knowing he would die when the ammunition ship exploded - a particularly poignant story.
We think we are beginning to have less stamina than we had 10 months ago as we flop in our room at 5pm.
Tuesday will be Halifax day, providing we can scrape together $1 for the bridge toll. We cross the MacDonald Bridge, not knowing that it would be shut on our return 12 hours later – no notices or anything. Never mind, the pressing need is a car parking space, at a premium on that side of the harbour. We find it at the Citadel, our first port of call, where we can park in the defensive ditch all day for $3.15, I don’t think they even require you to buy admission for the fort but we do anyway.
It’s an area fortified by the British over 300 years to protect Halifax harbour from attack by land, and erected in its present stone format in the 1850s. It never saw military action, its strong fortifications deterring anyone with eyes on Canada but it is manned by soldiers in period costume who are actually 'young entrepreneurs’ and it’s altogether an oddity – but an entertaining one. I had not realised that the Americans launched one final attempt to wrest Canada from British control in 1812, just as the tide was turning in the war against Napoleon. Experienced troops were brought in from Spain and Halifax was never threatened.
We take the oversubscribed guided tour delivered in English – just one taker for the French equivalent – and particularly enjoy the 12 o’clock gun and an erudite demonstration of an 1879 rifle. Plenty of kilts and bagpipes abound, but not a Scots accent to be heard! There are also excellent views of the town and harbour from its summit, a film and an exhibition about the history of Halifax and its harbour. Lunch is a fish fillet not eaten yesterday between slices of bread purloined from breakfast, eaten in a shady spot in the Grand Parade gardens between St Andrews Church and City Hall. One or two suited-and-tied businessmen eating their packed lunches look a bit uncomfortable in the 28 degree heat.
The afternoon is spent wandering Halifax’s waterfront – which like many waterfronts we have sampled is aimed squarely at the tourist and their pocket. Loads of historic boats all charging admission are part of the Maritime Musuem. But it’s sunny, and there is plenty to look at, though thunder is expected later. The boardwalk is not a bad place to be.
We end up at the Maritime Museum, famed for its Titanic exhibition. (Halifax was where the recovery ships went out from and where the bodies, such as were found, were brought.) But there is no in-house coffee shop, so we have to repair to Timmy’s. On returning, H spots that it’s free after 5.30. The clerk kindly lets slip they abandon ship at five, so we go for some more sightseeing to save $20. En route we hear Lauryn Hill’s band soundcheck at the Halifax Jazz Festival, which starts tonight. (As usual, the interesting stuff is after we’ve gone.) Doesn’t sound like she herself is there; we do see many chavvy Haligonians make their way waterwards later, however. (I have no idea who she is either – H).
Back to the museum, which is excellent value for (no) money; where else will you see one of the Titanic’s fabled deckchairs? (In fairness, it has had its cane weave replaced.) There is also an exhibition about the 1917 explosion with some harrowing photographs, although we discover that the central part of Halifax actually escaped relatively unscathed, but with all the window glass broken. What with the disaster, the Titanic and Franklin (boats and crew lost in searching for the northwest passage, finally found in 2014), it’s somewhat depressing.
We slog soberly back uphill to the Citadel to retrieve the car and are fortunate enough to find a space near the next port of call. Halifax centre rises steeply from the harbour to the Citadel, with a grid pattern of streets so there’s a lot of walking up and down. There is a lot of building work going on and a lot of new modern buildings, but there are pockets of heritage housing as well.
The Old Triangle is our final destination; H tries but fails to secure a discount for visiting all four corners of the Triangle during our time in the east of Canada. Nosh is followed by a session which features a strong reed section – Irish pipes, accordion, two concertinas, plus fiddle and guitar. A lack of leading musicians gives H plenty of opportunity to lead tunes off which is good for the brain, and the fingers. Information on where to find sessions in the Boston area changes hands. M reads his Kindle sulkily and is given a glass of the musicians’ beer for his trouble. He was a musician too once… (He gets even with a huge helping of bread and butter pudding – revenge is sweet.)
The way home is fraught as the heavens open and the bridge is closed, so H is driving blind in a torrent of water and we no longer know where we are going as we have to cross the Mackay Bridge to the north – but we have made it, rather bedraggled, to the other side and the haven of the Coastal Inn. We only had to turn round once…….
We think there may have been a murder in the night. M heard two hotel staff discussing what they were going to do “to make room 343 presentable”. Apparently there was stuff up the walls and stains on the carpet. Presumably someone has shaken a can of Guinness or ketchup, but the mind does boggle.
It’s already quite hot as we progress back over the Mackay bridge towards Peggy’s Cove, which is one of the most visited and photographed places in Nova Scotia, so we are hoping it is not too trippery. In the event, although it is hugely busy, just like Fisherman’s Cove it is still a working fishing village and manages to retain a rustic charm. They don’t even charge for parking. The main point of interest in the area is the rocky terrain, nude granite scattered with “eccentrics”, boulders left by the last ice age perched on top of other rocks. The landscape is quite unlike any other in Nova Scotia. Everyone heads for the lighthouse, selfie sticks at the ready, but the fishing bays themselves are charming and full of photo opportunities.
Leaving Peggy’s Cove, we find ourselves in a string of traffic for the first time for weeks as we wind our way around the headlands towards Lunenburg. Shortly along the shore we are directed to a memorial for Swissair flight 111 – so we stop to find out what this is all about. The airliner crashed off shore here in 1998 with the loss of 229 lives and two Picasso paintings; a touching memorial in the granite remains.
The drive here is very pretty and the road skirts beautiful blue coves scattered with little islands. It may have looked like this on the Eastern Shore, but we could not be certain due to rain. They call this the Southern Shore, SW of Halifax. Lunenburg is a UNESCO world heritage site and must be a popular day trip from Halifax as we struggle to find a parking place at 2pm. Eventually some kind soul departs a 2H meter leaving 1H40M still on it, so they must have been short of change.
We have a look at restaurants and end up at a small one which had a lunch special of mussels but is SOLD OUT. Still, the menu looked interesting and we had salt-cod fish cakes; salt cod was the staple export of this place for most of the 18th and 19th centuries until refrigeration became available, so these are traditional. We also had a lovely view of the harbour which we subsequently walked around, discovering that an odd-looking boat with a wooden front end and a rusty back end is a scallop digger and one of the few remaining wooden boats. Maybe we should have had scallops…
Lunenburg, like Halifax, is built on a steep slope on a grid pattern, so the town rises sharply on steep streets. The plan is pretty much untouched and houses date from the 1700s onwards – presumably there have not been any devastating fires here. There were a lot of German and Dutch settlers as well as British ones, and consequently there is a strong Protestant tradition. The houses are all painted different colours, which makes it a photo opportunity as well.
Our simple drive from the south shore to the Annapolis Valley took an unintended scenic turn at New Germany, leading us to arrive later than expected at our farmhouse B&B. Fortunately for both parties, our hosts had arrived home late too, and we are now sitting watching two goats outside our window. I hope they don’t eat fly netting.
Thursday’s destination, Annapolis Royal, is one of the most historic sites in Nova Scotia, being the first site of French settlement in 1610. It is also the most fought-over site and changed hands between the British and the French no less than seven times. The British deported French Acadians from here to Massachusetts and Annapolis Royal later had to accept loyalists fleeing the American War of Independence. It was also the location for much smuggling of French rum from Louisbourg into Boston.
Today it is a peaceful place on the banks of the Annapolis River harbour which houses the only tidal power station in North America. It was built as a proof of concept for a much bigger scheme on the Bay of Fundy which has 15 metre tides, the highest in the world. It works very well but there is no silt in the Annapolis river and there is lots in the Bay of Fundy, so it remains a solitary example.
Fort Anne was used by French and British alternately over two centuries until it became, finally, British. Nowadays you can wander around its grassy ramparts, within which there is a WWI exhibition taking place. It’s really hot and there’s a strong west wind so it’s impossible to keep a hat on your head for very long. We muse that, sadly, a lot of Nova Scotia outside the Halifax metro area has a lot of past and not much present. As the traditional industries of farming and fishing have declined, the railways that once crossed the island have been torn up and these rural communities are left trying to build a compensatory tourist industry. In some case this means completely rebuilding things that have burned down or been torn down. Here the case is Port Royal, where the original French settlement designed by Champlain has been recreated to give you a flavour of life for the early settlers.
We have been drawn here by the promise of traditional music between 1 and 3pm; we enjoy viewing the wooden re-creation, which seems quite robust and probably no worse than most of the settlers had enjoyed back in France, but the music is a disappointment. One man with a guitar and harmonica begins promisingly with some Canadian and Stan Rogers folk songs. After three of these, he starts The Wild Rover and we exit, swiftly followed by I’ll Tell My Ma and The Leaving of Liverpool. He is clearly going through the Dubliners’ songbook, which has nothing at all to do with Port Royal or Acadian or Canadian history, and he is not surprisingly failing to gather an audience. He is still doggedly singing Irish pub songs after we enjoy the lovely sea views and head back to Annapolis Royal and lunch. With so many trad players around it seems a missed opportunity.
Lunch is in Ye Olde Towne Tavern where we sample Acadian speciality Rappy Pie, a sort of soft Shepherd’s Pie made with chicken. The name comes from grated potatoes or the French patates rapees. It makes a change from the ubiquitous fried fish and burgers on the menus round here. Ironically, the pub proudly claims to be modelled on an old English hostelry; guess there was a clue in the name.
There is a garden recommended here, but it is so hot and windy we decide to have a look at the north coast instead. The Annapolis Valley is a wide, shallow valley which parallels the Fundy coastline; to the south is the forested tableland we came over yesterday and to the north a steep escarpment. The valley is very agricultural and quite well populated although spread out as farming areas tend to be. There are some attractive gardens which gives an idea of the better climate here.
You climb to the top of the hill and there is the sea, blue and sparkling. The straight road down to the rocky coastline reminds us a bit of Hawaii, as does the drive along leafy lanes high above the sea and the rocky black boulders on the shoreline. Unfortunately access is very limited but we get to stop and look at low tide at Hampton Harbour, where dark marks show how high the sea will come in.
We return after dinner to take the ‘after’ photos to compare with ‘before’. The repast began with a shock as we thought we’d bought a pie that needed cooking. Fortunately, the instructions were to warm it up for half an hour; it was cooked and could be eaten cold. The farmhouse B&B we are in doesn’t have cooking facilities, but for $153CAN for two nights including cooked breakfast it’s a steal. We notice there’s no TV but we’ve barely watched an hour this month. And from what the internet tells us we’ve not missed much.
Tomorrow will be our biggest driving day for a while; six hours will be needed to get to St John’s, New Brunswick, as we say farewell for good to Nova Scotia.