Monday, August 7 - I have been remiss with respect to completing this blog account of our trip west. Our good friend Marian gently chastised my yesterday, so I will try to finish off this edition of the blog without too much tedium.

You may recall that we were at the Peterman Reunion in Alberta. On Sunday, after breakfast at the motel in Claresholm, family pictures were taken, and then we went back to Stavely for final farewells. More hugs, and hopes that we can get together again before too many years go by. From there, we headed across country to Coronation, which proved to be a somewhat longer drive than we had thought it would be. Lots of secondary roads, widely paved two-laners, where the speed limit is 100, and most travel at close to 120. So good time can be made for sure.

When we arrived at Coronation, we were greeted at the entrance to the town with a large two-dimensional crown, which reminds visitors that when founded, this upstart community was named after royalty. George V was crowned around the time of the founding, so with that in mind, the name was struck. We did a rather quick tour of the town, as it was quiet, it being Sunday.  It's not a very large town, so it didn't take long to drive up and down several of the streets. We found the hospital where sister Marilyn and I were born, considerably expanded since the early 40s when we entered the world. We also found a very fine community hall, wherein I spoke to the man in charge, a retired principal who looks after the place as something to do. He described the town as very much alive, although somewhat diminished as most small communities are, but for him and his wife, a good place to have come for retirement. There is still one good employer in the immediate area, which has recently been bought out, so there's a little uncertainty about that, but he was still optimistic about the town's future.

He directed us to the cemetery, which was about three k's north of the town. Gail and I tramped around until we found the headstones of both my grand-father and great-grandfather Richardson, as well as the Peterman resting places in a corner of the cemetery reserved for the Catholics. There we found Bill and Martha's markers, as well as son Bill and his wife, and Anne's late husband. Also, we found my Grandmother's marker, Anna Marie Colina, and her parents William and Frieda Peterman, who would be my great-grand-parents. Pictures were taken, and a little quiet tribute to them all observed.

On to Edmonton, where we were warmly greeted by our good friends, Ken and Connie Marshall. Poor Connie, leg encased from top to bottom in an enclosure hinged at the knee, not really a cast, but equivalent. She only gets around using crutches, at which she is very good, even managing a flight of stairs quite well. Obviously, this placed restrictions on our activities while we were with them, but we managed very well, enjoying their new house and hospitality as always. We were especially pleased to be entertained by their little grand-daughter, Keira, (hope I spelled it correctly), who they were looking after while her mother worked. She is very bright and fun to interact with, full of language and mischief and independence, so it was great to get to know her.

The new house is very fine, equipped with all of the modern technology one can imagine, some of which I had not heard of. They have instant hot water at all outlets, an enclosed wifi system, hoseless central vac, the whole works. Their creativity and imagination in creating a home blows me away. I can't even visualize how to put a set of stairs down to the water without a lot of help. Ken was very frustrated with the city and its rules with respect to the landscaping of his yard, but since we have returned, it is now fully sodded, and looks terrific.

During our stay, we were happy to have lunch with old high school friends, the Jobsons, and the Huttons. We've known each other for ever, and when we get together, no matter how many years have gone by, it's like we see each other regularly. Lots of catching up with respect to kids, and even a little time for local politics, which we Easterners skirt around carefully. The West Edmonton Mall also got a couple of visits, as Gail found a place there that could repair her broken minipod screen. What a place...crowded with people enjoying all of the entertainment and shopping this huge mall has to offer.

We had a great visit with Ken and Connie, and hated to leave, but didn't want to overstay given Connie's situation. So off we went to Rocky Mountain House, thinking that if the smoke from the B.C. fires wasn't too bad, we'd go over to the Banff-Jasper highway. We had reservations at Golden, but after receiving reports of smoke conditions in the mountains, decided to cancel, and headed down the Cowboy Trail to Cochrane, just west of Calgary. There, the air was decidedly clearer, so we booked two nights in a great Super 8 motel, a very pleasant surprise, as their label isn't always very reputable. Here was a clear exception, with excellent rooms and a full morning breakfast. We even got a good rate considering the season, so were lucky to get the last room.

Cochrane turned out to be a really neat town, located on the Bow River, with a very large new industrial/shopping area nearing completion, across the main rail line that cuts through the town. On the other side is the old town, with very nice stores and restaurants, a good mix of pub style and ethnic places.We opted for pub style, so went to the Ducks on the Roof Pub both nights we were there. We could walk from the motel to the center of town along a trail that skirted the river, which we did the first night, to find a full-scale market happening along the main street. There's also a famous local ice cream shop, MacKays, which we had to try, lining up with the locals to get served. The line is constant.

Next day, we drove down the Cowboy Trail (highway 22) through Turner Valley, site of the first oil strike in Alberta, to Longview, where we visited the Bar-U Ranch. This is now a National Historic Site, dedicated to telling the story of early ranching in the province. A terrific amount of restoration of the early buildings has been done over the past few years, making it an excellent place to take the family. Located as it is in the foothills, which are especially beautiful this time of year, it's a great place to spend part of a day.

From there, we headed back north up route 541, which leads into highway 40. This road clearly rivals the Banff- Jasper route, as you are suddenly in magnificent mountains, each turn in the road giving you a new and wonderful view of the peaks stretching to the north and south. The road peaks at the highest pass in Canada, at just over 2200 meters, the Highwood Pass. It winds down to Kananaskis Village, site of the locale for the downhill skiing that was part of the Calgary Winter Olympics. Friend Steve Ward had a major role in the design of the hill, so it was neat to see the slope he had worked on. Sadly, the beautiful Kananaskis Golf Courses are closed, as they are still reworking the repairs needed following the major flooding that swept the area about four years ago.

The highlight, however, was seeing a little bear cub race across the road in front of us. We stopped the car as he scrambled up the highway embankment, and to our wonder, we saw his mother and two siblings, feeding in the bushes above the road. Mother Grizzly was truly huge, very busy stripping the bushes of anything edible, including berries, presumably. We got out of the car, normally a no-no, and watched her safely for about 15 minutes, as she was so busy with feeding she paid us no attention. Very exciting to see her and her cubs so close. Once we got to the Kananaskis Village, we reported our sighting, which the staff was very happy to get. They knew this bear well, number 104, as they have been tracking her carefully, to ensure she is okay and not bothering anyone.

Next day, we drove back to Kananaskis to the Barrier Dam, where we did a 10 k hike,up the mountain and down. It has a 500 meter vertical, so was pretty strenuous for us. But we managed, noting that we were probably 40-50 years older than most of the other hikers. The view at the top was spectacular, so the exertion was well worth it. Must mention, the final ascent to a shelf overlooking the mountains in both directions was a challenge. Gail tried going up a steep and rocky notch, but her footwear was too worn on the soles to make it manageable. Stubborn me had to try, so it was a major scramble, finding footholds and hanging on to outcrops to find a way up. As I neared the top of the notch, I looked up to see Gail looking down at me, wondering if I'd make it. She's found an alternate route, steep but much more manageable, so had the laugh on me as I scrambled the final few feet, gasping and wheezing. But the view...spectacular, so well worth the effort.

That's about it. Next day we headed for Calgary, checked the rental car in, and spent the next 7 hours waiting for our evening flight home. We'd changed our flight time because I'd inadvertently booked our return for 12 a.m. thinking it was for 12 p.m. That little error cost us $350. to make the change, as well as a long wait. But we put in the time, and were happy to see Donnie waiting for us at the airport at 12:30 a.m. in Ottawa. Friends like that are hard to find. We had a very nice visit with Donnie and Pat next morning, followed by lunch at sister Marilyn's and then home by dinner time.

Since then, we have found ourselves back in the local scene, busy, catching up on the news, getting back into the normal life of summer. Rapidly it moves along, with August almost one-quarter used up. But lots to do, so no complaints. Where will the next adventure take us? New Zealand awaits, but not til the new year. No doubt something else will crop up before then. Meantime, I'll try to post some pictures from the Newfoundland and Alberta adventures. So til then, more later. Stay tuned.

                                               

Saturday July 16 - Claresholm, Alberta, a town of just under 4,000, in the heart of southern farm and ranch country. It's a tidy town, clearly geared to serving the local industries, and to providing the amenities needed by local citizens. There's a fair sized grocery store, a nice main street, and some of the usual fast food joints along highway 2, which runs right through town; but not quite the usual number of them, a Dairy Queen, a Tim's, that's about it. There are also at least 4 liquor stores, so that also tells you something.

We're out on the relatively flat prairie, so you can see for miles, the canola fields brilliantly yellow as a foreground for the foothills off in the distance, hugging the horizon. You can probably see for 50 or 60 miles, maybe more. Got  to love the prairies, the softness of the air, the land that stretches off in all directions to a faraway line of sight, the big sky, which seems endless in its dimensions. Looking across the canola field this morning, we could see two ears poking above the crop, a deer in the midst of the field feeding.

We came here last night, after having dinner with good friends Rick and Diane Dunn at the Calgary airport. We hadn't seen them for 4 or 5 years, so it was great to catch up with them, and to find them doing really well. They haven't changed a bit. Rick still loves to take the right wing side of things, poking and prodding the liberal side of us as much as possible. Diane is just as lovely as ever.

Got our Chevy Impala, an upgrade, at the very busy Avis agency, which seemed to have all of the business. We proceeded down the Deerfoot Trail, or highway 2, which runs straight from Calgary, through High River, where my dad was born, and on to Claresholm. We stopped at the village of Stavely, found the community hall, and there was the assembled Peterman clan, getting their reunion off to a good start. Lots of hugs, and chatting, and circulating, warmly welcomed by the group. We stayed until the two hour time difference clicked in, faded, and headed on to Claresholm to find our motel, which turned out to be a nice facilityd, tucked away on the southern edge of town.

A word about the reunion. The Peterman clan began its tenure in Alberta in the early 1900s, when the family moved to the Coronation area from the U.S. to start a homestead. There were three children, Pete, Bill and Anne. Anne was my mother's mother. Bill married Martha, who had emigrated at age 18 from Holland to work as a family maid. They had 6 children. Each of them but the youngest had 4 children, the youngest, Joan, only producing 2. So that's a total of 22 first cousins. Of that total, 19 were present at this reunion, along with a number of their children. Of the six originals, only Annie, Cora and Terry are still alive and well, and all three were in attendance. Total attendees: around 60.

Today was a long day of socializing, chatting and games. Cribbage was one of the mainstays, but other games were played as well. But a lot of time was also spent with cousins catching up with each other, as they are fairly well scattered around. Two meals were prepared in the kitchen by the 4 cousins in charge, who calculated how much the whole thing cost per person.  I think it was 23 bucks apiece. Bargain if there ever was one, as both meals were great. The evening was capped off with two huge birthday cakes presented to Terry, who will be 85 next month, yours truly, who will be 75 next month, and Wendy, Terry's daughter, who will be 65 next month. Missing, sadly, was my mother, who would have been 95 next month. So our little traditional celebration continues.

Tomorrow morning, there will a gathering for coffee back in Stavely, as people head back home. It's been a great chance to reconnect with this side of my mother's family. I brought a bunch of pictures that I dug out of Dad's files, and they were much enjoyed, especially by Terry and her nephew Billy and his wife Linda, who were all very fond of my parents. They kept all of the pictures to scan, and add to the Peterman archives.

Tiring to socialize for most of a full day, but glad we came. Tomorrow, we will go by Coronation, where all of this began, to look for my Dad's parents and grandparents gravestones. Then on to Edmonton. More later. Stay tuned.

Sunday, July 9 - Home again!! Nineteen hours of driving...1,800 kms. That's what it takes to get from Cape Breton Highlands National Park to Picton. Just so you know, in case you're thinking of doing the trip. The park is a beautiful area, so heavily recommend you put the park on your bucket list if you've never been there.

We broke the drive up somewhat, as we left on Friday afternoon, just to get a start. The kids were keen to do a hike that morning, so we joined them for an 8 k hike up the nearest trail, which has a vertical elevation change of 1,200 feet. (Gail accuses me of getting some of my numbers wrong in these missives, so you can check me if you like. Look up the Acadian Trail on the park website. I dare ya!) It wasn't all up, as like everything else, most ups have a down, so half of the hike was coming back down, which is sometimes more tiring than the climb up. Great views of the surrounding area and the ocean, so well worth the effort.

When done we finished transferring everything, our stuff to their Dodge wagon, their stuff to the r.v., and with some farewell hugs, off we went. We took a different route to get to the Canso Causeway, a winding but good road on the west side of the island. Then it was on the TCH to Truro, where we stopped for the night. We'd hoped to see the tidal bore next morning, but the timing was totally off, as it came in shortly after midnight, then again in later afternoon. So as has happened before when we've been in Truro, not much luck with being bored.

Next day I clearly did not do as I say, but did as I did. Meaning? I'd told the kids to take their time coming to Cape Breton, relax and enjoy the drive. You're tired, so don't push it. They made the 1,800 k's in two full days, which meant a couple of 10 hour days on the road. A bit much in my opinion. So what did we do? Eleven hours on the road the second day. But there was some excuse for it, as once you get past Quebec City towards Montreal, it's really hard to find a motel. First of all, there aren't many towns of any size near route 20. And where there are, the motels were full. We finally decided to push on to Drummondville, thinking surely a town of that size would have a place for two tired old people. No way!! All motels were full, as there was a convention going on, as well as some sports tournament.

By now we were only 90 kms from Montreal, and didn't want to get into the metro mess looking for a place to stay. Fortunately, our very friendly server at dinner in Drummondvillle told us of a motel she thought might have room, about 20 k down the road. After another 'no room in the inn' (we started to think of ourselves as Joe and Mary), we lucked out at the place our nice server had recommended. Got the second last room in the Laliberte Motel. Could have been a stable, and we wouldn't have cared.

I only mention this in such detail to advise you, with verified experience, that if you plan to stay in the summer in a motel in Quebec on your way to or from the Atlantic Provinces, it would be wise to do some research and book a room in advance. Not something we freewheelers often do, but we learned our lesson.

Some folks say the drive through New Brunswick is boring...nothing but trees and more trees. But really, the route from Riviere du Loup to Fredericton is quite fine, as you go through a series of valleys and hills, following the wonderful St. John's river, a broad and beautiful flow. Trees there are, in abundance, but also there are lots of fine vistas, and some interesting towns along the way. Stop for a few bags of potato chips at the Covered Bridge factory, among the best I've tasted. Find the world's longest covered bridge nearby, and also the world's shortest. Or find the world's largest ax. There's always a new experience. There's even a zip line across the falls at Grand Falls. So please don't knock NB. NB: it's A-okay

Anyway, we are now home, and delighted to be here for a few days, before we head off to Calgary on Friday. Jimmy Stewart deserves much praise for keeping our grass cut. and for doing some plant watering. We can't believe how high the water is in the bay. Still really unaccessible for kayaking. Not much time for that anyway, as we have only three days to catch up on quite a lot of work around the place. Such is the price one pays for wandering.

I think I'll just keep this blog going, as we will have some things to see and share in Alberta. So if you feel like hanging in with us, there will be more later. Stay tuned.

Thursday, July 6 part 2 - We did Signal Hill on Sunday, then had time to put in, as our ferry from Argentia was scheduled for the next afternoon. So despite the fog, we decided to head down the Irish Loop, which goes down and around the most south-easterly peninsula. We had heard that Ferrytown was a good place to see whales, so we stopped there, only to find that the fog was so thick, nothing could be seen on the sea. So, do we turn around and go back up and around, or carry on down and around. You have to look at a map of Nfld to know what I'm talking about.

Since we had not done the Loop last trip, we decided to carry on. The road was reputed to be pretty bad, but what the heck! On we went, and the road was actually better than expected, even on the other side, where we had been told the road was terrible. Turned out a lot of it had been recently repaved, so although there were stretches where you had to use both sides of the road to avoid serious potholes and road break-up, most of it was okay. One thing about driving two lane roads in the province is you learn to use both sides of the road, and hope the traffic allows it. Fortunately, the traffic was light, as it often is on the two-laners, so you can dodge and swerve to your heart's content.

We stopped at Mistaken Point, which is near Cape Race, location of a critical lighthouse and communications station. This is where the first signal of the Titanic's problems was picked up, and most interesting, Kathy O'Driscoll's grand-father worked at this center at the time, so was in on the first distress signal's receipt. Also of interest is that Mistaken Point is the site of some of the oldest fossils ever found anywhere in the world. Just happens that Queen's University has been heavily involved in doing research here, as it's a very important part of explaining the history of life on the planet.

On to St. Steven's, a small fishing center at the bottom of the peninsula, where we had been told by the lady running the cash at a Bay Bulls grocery store that she and her husband had been the day before to see whales. Listen to the locals. So we parked at the St. Steven's beach, and spent more than an hour, spotting several humpbacks surfacing and blowing, some quite near the beach. Could have free camped there, to continue the watch, but since we still had a fair distance to go to get to the ferry the next day, we went all the way back to the TCH to find a campsite. 'Twas a lovely drive along St. Mary's Bay as we drove north, so despite the odd bad stretch of road, we were glad we'd done the whole thing.

Next day, we continued on to Placentia, where we did a short walk on their boardwalk, remembered that Rex Murphy comes from the town next door, then headed for the ferry. Suffice it to say the ferry passage was smooth, and we had a nice little compartment for the night. We departed at 5 p.m., and disembarked in Sidney Mines at about 10 the next morning. Gail didn't sleep well, so that was the only negative about the crossing.

Despite her being tired, we drove from the ferry to Louisbourg, and spent the afternoon wandering the fortress grounds. If you ever get the chance, you must go. We had been there many years ago, but it has been added to greatly since. There are loads of people in period costume depicting life in the 1740s, the time during which the French controlled the area. Interestingly, the fortress was pretty much in ruins, totally, until the early 1960s, when John Deifenbaker decided it would be a great project for Cape Breton to reconstruct the fortress. A fund of 25 million dollars was assigned, and the work of 25 years was begun. Many locals who had been displaced from the fishing industry, and from coal mining, were employed in various capacities, skilled and unskilled, so it was a great boon to the local economy. Many professionals were also involved: architects, historians, designers, and researchers. It's quite amazing, the workmanship and authentic reconstruction that has been accomplished, when you consider there was really nothing there to speak of until Dief got thins moving.

We thoroughly enjoyed the wander-about, took in the special demonstrations, and talked to all kinds of folks playing their particular roles. One woman in particular, who played the part of a household cook, told us that when first she visited the area, she felt a pull to the place that she couldn't explain. She is from Shediac, NB, where a lot of the personnel come from because of their French backgrounds. It turned out that her grandmother (maybe great-grandmother) had lived in the Louisbourg area, but had left for some reason, moved to New Brunswick,  and is credited with being the founder of Shediac. Full circle, sort of like this writer's father discovering that our roots on his mother's side are in Prince Edward County, which he had not known. Something in the air tells you that there is a pull, unexplainable, that draws you to want to 'come home'. That's what I felt when first visiting the County.

Next day, we drove to Glace Bay, and toured the Miner's Museum. We also did the tour of the mine, which was a major contrast to what we'd seen in Bell Island. Here, we had to crouch down most of the mine tour because the shaft ceilings were only about 4 feet high. Dark, damp, depicting the way things were for the miners in the early 1900s. What a tough way to make a go of life. And to make matters worse, the company controlled everything, so that a miner's pay was pretty much eaten up by the charges the company laid on him. Often a miner with a family would be in debt to the company store, which kept him indentured, almost like being a slave to the master. Heavy duty strikes, bitter and sometimes violent, finally resulted in improvements, but it took many years. Makes the life of a teacher look pretty tame in some respects, as the physical realities, and the danger of working in coal mines, is probably one of the toughest ways anyone could make a living. Much admiration goes to those who did this work.

Now we're camped in Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We've cleaned up the van, gone for a 2.5 hour hike, and await the arrival of the kids. And that brings you up to date. More later? Not much more to tell, but there will be one more short chapter to conclude. Thanks for listening. Stay tuned.

Thursday July 6 - We await the arrival of the kids. Last night they made it to Edmunston NB, so they still had 900 k's to do today. But they figure they'll be here by 7 p.m. They have heard from Clare, who had a rough flight, mainly because of late departures out of Toronto and Vancouver. Result: she missed her flight to Wellington, so had an 8 hour wait in Sidney until the next flight. And one of her bags didn't show when she arrived in NZ, so she has to hope it is soon delivered. However, she was housed in a hostel, last report, so she will need to have a huge catch-up on lost sleep.

Meantime, back to St. John's for a couple of highlights. On Friday, we walked all the way down to the Quidi Vidi harbour, which is next to the main harbour, for a kitchen party. Every Friday night, local musicians get together to perform, their only pay being all the beer they can drink. We were told to arrive early, which we did, the result being we had to stand outside for quite awhile in the cold onshore wind so we could be assured of getting in, as they only take about 80 people. We were all ashiver by the time the doors opened.

But a beer in hand and warm air inside made it all worth while. The music was great...local tunes, well played, lots of good repartee and humour, and a very responsive crowd, a mix of tourists and locals. We shared a table with several people, including three very nice teachers from Montreal, who had to leave early because of a 6:30 flight next morning. They were very friendly and chatty, so we had a nice visit with them. Their place was taken by three really nice local ladies, one of whom had spent a winter in Ottawa getting a heart transplant. She couldn't say enough about the care she got in the Heart Institute. Another lady at the end of the table is a local, who sings in a choir that has gone all over the world performing. She's at the kitchen party every week.

The neat thing about the evening was the enthusiasm of some of the younger women, who got all kinds of people up dancing. Gail was one of the first hauled to the floor, and she had a great time. We ended up dancing quite a bit, and had a lot of fun with the folks, who were so welcoming. True kitchen parties usually involve anyone who can play or sing showing up and joining in, but in this case, the musicians are really good, and are the regulars, so it would take someone with a lot of skill to have the nerve to get up and do something. After two sets, we headed back to the trail for another walk of 6 or 7 k's to get back to our park.

Next day, down we hiked again, about 2/3 of the previous day's walk, to take in Canada Day. From 2 to 4, there was a good variety of performances...music, dance, multicultural, a good mix. There was also a lineup for free burgers, and other goodies, which we took advantage of. For the kids there  were a half-dozen bouncing enclosures, and lots of other stuff for them to do. Energy bars, popsicles, yogurt, popcorn, all handed out free, along with Canada Day decals, stick-ons and the like.

We stayed until near the end, then walked, yes, more walking, downtown to see what was happening on George Street, the pub party center. Thought we'd find a pub, have dinner, and listen to some music. There was music blaring from the street, but there was a 30 dollar admission just to get on the street, so we gave it a pass and went to a nice pub instead. Food was okay, although nothing special.
So, guess what!! We walked all the way back to the Canada Day Celebration Site to hear the last part of the Sheepdog concert, which was also free. For you older folks, the Sheepdogs are a band from Saskatchewan that has made it big, and we enjoyed their performance a lot. Then, as the fireworks began, we headed for a shuttle bus that took us back close to the park. Needless to say, by the time we got back, we were done.

However, next morning, despite a heavy fog, we decided to go to Signal Hill. Couldn't see anything near the top, but Gail was determined, so we parked in the first lot we could fined, thinking that there might not be space for an r.v. at the top (turned out there would have been). We climbed up a back trail, came over a ridge, and saw some troops dressed in British 18th Century uniforms, bright red tunics visible in the mist, and wondered what they were doing. As we moved up, we saw soldiers armed with muskets squatted down behind barriers. What the heck? Then we saw a guy in civvies come running our way, behind the crouched soldiers, and wondered where he was going. Turned out he was coming to rescue us, as we were in direct line with a cannon that was about to be fired. We had stumbled upon the first military display of the season, so we were quickly hustled over to where the rest of the audience was located, to enjoy the rest of the show. They did fire the cannon, which made a huge sound, and wouldn't have been good to be in direct line with. Despite the continuing fog, we continued on up the hill after the show to reach the tower, where we could barely see the harbour below. Cold and clammy, but we did it, and Gail was happy.

That's it for St. John's, a city we have learned to really appreciate for it's atmosphere, history, color, harbour, friendly people, music, pubs, and hilly streets. A great place to spend a few days.

What to do for the rest of the day in the fog? Stay tuned. More later.

Wednesday, July 5th, part 2 - We had four nights in St. John's, so 3 full days to enjoy the change from the smaller out-ports and countryside, which we love. Walked our feet off, as Pippy Park is a wonderful city facility, right in the middle of St. John's. If one is ambitious enough, or dumb enough, you can walk to most points of interest. That we did, logging many kilometers. Our main route to the center of the city was along the Rennie River, a beautiful stream that flows through the park, on for about 6 kilometers and into the harbour. It has a terrific trail, with waterfalls, backyard gardens, sports facilities along the way, and bordered by abundant areas of Queen Anne's lace and flowering mountain ash trees. And I mean abundant, with fields of them. The third vegetation of interest in the gardens we passed: rhododendrons, all kinds of them. Why can't we grow them like that, Gail wondered!?

Too much to tell about St. John's! The Rooms is a beautiful museum that was our first priority, as it had been closed due to a burst pipe three years ago, so we hadn't been able to get in. We wanted to see the area devoted to the Newfoundland Regiment in the First World War. It was well worth it, with excellent displays, lots of biographical details about men and women of note who were participants in the action, and loads of artifacts. The province's pride rests to a large extent on the contribution made in both wars, as it really put Newfoundland on the map with respect to its strategic location and the strength and skills of its people.

There was also an interesting area depicting the natural elements of the island, and the history of the native people. When discussing the disappearance of the Beothuk, it fell short of a clear statement as to why they are no longer, mentioning only European disease and settlement. But aside from that, it was well done. The big surprise was on the fourth floor, where the Art Gallery has an extensive display the work of Gerald Squires, who we hadn't heard of. He died only two years ago, but produced a massive volume of work, often provocative, but also capturing the essence of Newfoundland. He covered a wide range of themes and subjects, some religious, some stark depictions of the landscapes of the province, some the people. Look him up...he was truly one of Canada's great artists, and we don't know anything about him.

We ended the day on George Street in O'Reilly's tavern, havin' a beer and some french fries, listening to a local singer who did a lot of Irish material. Daughter-in-law Sharon would have enjoyed him. Back to camp on the bus, which worked out really well. So good to be located in a city where you can access points of interest without having to drive the rig. Works as long as the feet and legs hold out.

Breakfast time. We have to leave Louisbourg this morning to head up to the Cape Breton National Park, as we'll be meeting the kids there tomorrow. Handover is soon to happen. So I'll leave for now, and try to finish St. John's later.

More later. Stay tuned.