I love road trips and I love my life-long friend, Jenn.
Jenn was widowed just over a year ago and when she shared with me that her attempts to be brave and independent included a drive to the east coast this summer, I jumped at the chance to be her co-pilot on the journey.
It would be the second such adventure for us as we’d taken a cross country drive together over forty years ago – before spouses and kids – to Edmonton, Alberta. That trip was in my 1968 Camaro. This time we hit the road in her trusty GMC truck with Border Collie, Blue along for the ride.
Destination: Nova Scotia!
I am always inspired by new surroundings and the countryside and pretty towns all along the way did not disappoint. The endless seascapes and coastlines of the island were our constant guides and it was always easy to navigate by just finding the water. Folks told us that one is never more than thirty five miles from the lakes or the sea when in Nova Scotia.
The province’s rich history of music, dance and folk art was evident everywhere. My friend is a rug hooker and one of our stops was the Hooked Rug Museum of North America in Hubbards. Learning more about the history and Celtic influence of the region’s traditional music and having our fill of local seafood were highlights of the trip.
Along with a magnetic bobble head lobster souvenir, I brought back a few memories to add to my collection of writing ideas. I’ll remember them fondly even if they never become short stories.
Clothing Optional
We happily found a largely deserted beach where we could walk Blue. A lone man sat in a webbed lawn chair reading a newspaper which strategically draped his lap. He did not respond to our waves as we passed by him and it became apparent that he was naked under the newspaper. Quickly exiting the area, we noticed that the ‘clothing optional’ message scrawled on the Evergreen Beach sign looked suspiciously unofficial.
Tuesday night ceilidh
Hillary Dougall bounded onto the local Legion stage giving a whoop and a shout, her tap shoes pounding the floor in rhythm with the music from the fiddler and the piano player. She danced up a storm for the ceilidh crowd and her spirited smile beckoned both locals and those from away to join her. We learned that the day’s haddock haul was the biggest she’d seen in years and she planned to celebrate well.
Seeking Anna
In Bear River we searched for our friend Anna. Many years ago, she set up a homestead somewhere along the river that runs through the tiny hamlet, and became part of the back to the land movement there. Our investigative efforts – visiting the artist co-ops and approaching older customers in each of the three cafes in town – yielded no clues to her whereabouts. A visit to the municipal office and a review of twenty years’ worth of obituaries (her name thankfully absent) resulted in dashed hopes to reunite with her. She may not want to be found.
Creepy Motel
After a particularly tiring day, the only lodging to be found was a two-star rated motel. It was almost 10:00 pm when we arrived. Jenn wrestled open the motel room door and flipped on the overhead light but did not set down her overnight bag. A quick glance revealed a grimy, decrepit room with half-century-old fixtures and overpowering smells. Although a bed-bug inspection did not reveal any critters, we decided the three of us were better off sleeping in the truck.
Not even sleeping in the truck could dampen our enthusiasm on this trip. The best thing about driving such long distances together is having endless hours to chat. We talked about all things big and small, lamenting and reveling in the twists and turns our lives have taken.
Our travel together ended after eight days when I flew home and Jenn stayed another week to visit family. She and Blue made the trip home just fine, banishing any self-doubt in her ability to do it on her own. So confident is she now that the she is shopping for the perfect camper van for herself and Blue… and the occasional guest.
We just need to decide where we’re heading next.
