17 May 2022

Six Ways To Fundy

17 May 2022

May

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Tuesday 17 May 2022--It's damp and misty as I cross the Macdonald Bridge on my way out of town. I can't say my visit to Halifax has been very successful. To say I didn't make good use of my time there is an understatement--I in fact did pretty much nothing for two full days out of three. There were some other things I had in mind...yet somehow I don't have that regretful feeling of leaving things undone that I sometimes do on departure from this place or that. The fact is, I mostly wanted to see what Halifax looked and felt like, after having been away for fifteen years. I did that, and I'm impressed--the town seems to be a prosperous 21st century small city, after feeling so long like a 19th-century navy town. I still like it...but honestly, modernization makes it seem a little more like anywhere else. There is still a Haligonian charm, but I fear it's in the process of being lost. I can't say just now that I feel any particular urge to return.

The mist falls away behind as I head north away from the Atlantic coast, the sky gradually clearing. About thirty miles north, I get off the 102 and drive a way along the Shubenacadie River, just to see some scenery I haven't seen before. Cross the river and make my way toward Truro, a town of 13,000 on the Salmon River. I'm hoping to have lunch at one of two brewpubs there, but neither is open early on a Tuesday afternoon. I settle for coffee at Tim's.

Drive west along the north shore of Cobequid Bay and the Minas Basin, a quiet part of the province I've never been in before. Arrive in Parrsboro (pop ~1200) and go to have a look at the sleepy harbor. Hard to believe that this was the center of a thriving shipbuilding industry in the 19th century, in villages along what was called the Parrsboro Shore. There's no sign of it now.

Check into my B&B, take a short nap, and walk down to the local brewpub. Dismayed to find the bistro next door, where I'd hoped to have dinner, is not open this evening. The brewpub serves only nachos. There's a restaurant down at the harbor, but it's too late to get there before closing. Nachos it is.

I'm sitting against the wall, writing in my journal, when half a dozen folks filter in and sit at a long table in the middle of the room, all on one side, facing me, which seems a bit odd. It soon becomes clear that it's Bingo night, the proceedings being televised on a big screen behind me (from a local hall, I gather). Decide I should probably sit somewhere else. "You don't have to move on our account," one of them says to me. "Everybody's staring at me!" I answer in mock paranoid discomfort, getting a laugh. They invite me to join them, but I decline politely, partly because there isn't really room at their table, except on the side toward the screen, which would feel really awkward; and partly because, social misfit that I am, I never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

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Halifax To Parrsboro