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.
Thumbs up!!!
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