Friday, July 19, 2019 – Off to Sherbrooke and Cape Breton

Hopefully there will be few, if any, reports on things mechanical, other than to say things are running well. It’s a lovely, sunny morning, cool and quiet. We’ve a few things to set about and then on the road once more.

Highway 7 follows the coast, most of the way. There is a part that’s more freeway than coastal road. But in the main, 7 is the winding, patched, narrow, curvy tarmacked road that we all loved as children. Well, I loved as a child. The road jumps up hills and falls down the other side, unlike newer roads that cut through and level out the drive. Boring if efficient. We drive through towns with fabulous, imaginary names; East Chezzetcook, Gaetz Brook, East Petpeswick, Musquodoboit Harbour, Head of Jeddore, Ship Harbour, Norse Cove, Spry Harbour, Popes Harbour and Mushaboom. Past  water features like Railway Bridge Pool, Graveyard Pool, Eel Pond, Navy Pool, Oyster Pond, Pyches Cove, and Eel Weir Pool.

Mason’s Cove, Prince Alfred Arch.

We spot a historic feature marker and turn down a short road to a wee park at the head of a tiny cove. Prince Alfred Arch is located at Mason's Cove, Sheet Harbour, Tangier. At this place October 19, 1861, the sixteen-year old Prince, second son of Queen Victoria, landed ashore from a longboat and was feted by the local dignitaries. Upon leaving he was presented with a gold nugget from the somewhat famous gold mines of the area.

Prince Alfred Arch, Tangier

We’re taking photos, reading inscriptions and an older man with thick-lensed glasses gets out of his pickup and slowly saunters over to us. He’s a big man, big hands and decked out in white-paint spattered jeans. Bluenoser through and through his accent is pure downeaster. He’s a talker. We learn lots about the monument, the Prince Alfred event, the gold history and folks of the area. A few years back the entire community recreated the Prince Alfred landing. Everyone had a role to play and were dressed in period clothing. He was the ships commander upon which Alfred was sailing as a midshipman. He’s salt of the earth. Couldn’t finish cutting the grass in the wee park yesterday because his sciatica flared up. Come back today to finish the lawn. We sign the guest book and manage to pull ourselves away. Sweet character.

The Ceilidh is performing like a charm until just short of our destination. She burps and nearly stalls. This is so very disheartening. We feather a bit and manage to drive the next five kilometers to our Riversedge Campground. Checking the inline fuel filter reveals more water. That’s actually good news. We can drain the filter and the water remaining in the tank, and there can’t be much at this point, will be gone and we’ll be driving like a charm. Bad batch of gas from Amherst can do this.

Riversedge Campground abuts the St. Mary’s River. There are a few trees along the rivers bank, but the rest of the campground is an open field. The river side sites are all taken. We are isolated in the middle of the field, not a bad thing. 

The St. Mary’s River Bordering Our Campsite.

The sun is falling to the west as is its wont. We are toasty and warm. A large bald eagle flies low over the field and along the tree line. We hear a loon making its signature call from the river. I spot two chickens walking north along a dirt road, clearly some distance from home. I wonder if the eagle knows.  

Tomorrow we’ll head for Louisburg.