This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Sept. 28, 2011 - The much-photographed lighthouse at Peggy's Cove became an accidental part of the journey. Hurricane Irene turned out to be our good fortune -- although it didn't seem so at first.
Irene's remnants produced the one day of rain in an otherwise sunny two-week vacation in the Canadian maritime provinces. Our visit to Cape Enrage, and its lonely lighthouse, was, well, enraging. Hoping to wait out the storm, we took shelter from the pummeling rain in the lighthouse keeper's home, now a restaurant, where we watched some poor woman stall on a zipline and get drenched to the bone.
A delicate lobster salad and lobster tacos proved to be a suitable consolation for the fact that, when the rain dissipated, we had to satisfy ourselves with a brief photo op at the lighthouse instead of a more leisurely exploration of the cape and ocean floor.
Irene also produced my one sleepless night, in a shorefront hotel in tiny Alma on the New Brunswick side of the Bay of Fundy, known for its dramatic tides. "We're expecting a bit of a blow," said the hotel desk clerk the night before. "Let's hope it comes at low tide," said the hotel's owner, which of course immediately conjured up visions of a high-tide tsunami flattening everything in its path. (Needless to say, it didn't.)
Finally, it also produced the one glitch in our itinerary; our ferry from St. John to Digby, back in Nova Scotia, was canceled. So we had to improvise.
And that's where our good fortune came in. On the spur of the moment, we called the only place to stay in the supremely picturesque Peggy's Cove, one of the most photographed places in all of Canada. As luck would have it, the five-room B and B had had storm-related cancellations.
By the time we arrived, the tour buses had all departed, and we had the town to ourselves. The iconic lighthouse, perched on a rocky outcropping; the rows of lobster traps, stacked against weather-beaten buildings; the fishing boats, slowly bobbing in the harbor -- all were bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, a light that gradually became pink as sunset approached.
Whale Of A Good Time
There are three places where you can go to see whales, said the man in the Nova Scotia visitors' center: Cheticamp in Cape Breton, Digby on the Bay of Fundy and Lunenberg on the south shore.
Lunenberg, it would have to be. We'd been to Cheticamp where the winds made the waters so choppy the boats weren't going out. And, if they did, they weren't seeing whales -- and unhappy passengers were getting their money back. And our three-hour ferry ride to Digby (and the chances for seeing whales on the way) had been canceled by the remains of Hurricane Irene.
So we made reservations on the only whale-watching cruise out of Lunenberg and then scrambled to pay with a combination of U.S. and Canadian currency when the credit card machine gave out.
As the boat left Lunenberg, we were treated to the million-dollar view of the town, the view that shows how this well-preserved mid-18th century seaport clinched its status as a UNESCO world heritage site as the "best-surviving example of a planned British colonial settlement in North America."
The view is a knockout -- the boats in the harbor, the brightly painted wooden buildings, the terraced town -- and one that hasn't changed substantially in centuries.
We were out about an hour before our captain spotted a whale, a humpback. When we saw the telltale plume, everyone rushed to the side of the boat, cameras or phones in hand. Of course, whales breach and dive so quickly that you're lucky if you're left with a digital image of a big black spot, which is basically what I got.
For almost an hour, we played a friendly game of hide and seek, scanning the seas for that plume of mist, waiting for the next appearance, oohing and aahing at the tail fin disappearing below the waves, tracking the whale's path and then trying to be close when it emerged again. Exhilarating -- even if we really only saw the same whale over and over.
We counted ourselves lucky, nonetheless.
About a week earlier, we'd taken Donelda's puffin boat tours in Cape Breton. To be fair, we knew the puffin season was coming to a close, and we were not guaranteed to see them. But it was a gorgeous day for a boat ride, and we saw seals lounging on rocks, cormorants, double crested and great, as well as bald eagles swooping down for fish. The closest we actually came to a puffin, though, was the stuffed one Donelda used in her below-deck talk.
The French Connection
The United States and Canada share a British colonial history -- but naturally from sharply different perspectives.
A visit to the fortress of Louisbourg in Cape Breton provided a vivid lesson in how the wars in Europe -- especially between France and England -- played out in the New World. The reconstructed fortress of Louisbourg, a living history museum, takes the visitor to 1744, the year before the British siege of 1745 but after the French first settled there in 1713. (The French established Louisbourg, an important seaport, after the Treaty of Utrecht forced the French to give Acadia and Newfoundland to the British.)
The reconstruction of about a fifth of Louisbourg was guided by archeology and reams of historical documents so it is incredibly detailed. This allows the interpreters to take on the identity of many of the people who actually lived there, and they are eager to answer questions in character. The docent who gave us a guided tour of the site told a spellbinding yarn about how the natural, ice-free harbor and the abundance of cod made Louisbourg quite an important town but how it eventually fell to the English.
The clash between the English and French also provided a backdrop to the founding of Lunenberg. There the British made a point of importing primarily hard-working German and Swiss Protestants to settle the area — counting on deep religious divisions to keep them separate from and distrustful of the Catholic French.
Our most entertaining history lesson, though, came at the Citadel overlooking Halifax. There we learned that the war of 1812 was a war of American aggression to drive the British out of North America, but was foiled by a coalition of British, French and Native Americans in Canada. Hmmmm. Guess there won't be many joint centennial commemorations next year.
Picture Perfect
With its crisp sea breezes, abundant seafood -- lobsters, mussels, scallops -- and fresh Atlantic salmon, Cape Breton fiddle music and the lilting French spoken in Cheticamp, Nova Scotia and environs are a feast for the senses. It is also just plain beautiful, full of places to dazzle the eyes.
Close to the top of the list has to be the Cabot Trail, a scenic, mostly coastal 185-mile highway that goes through the Cape Breton highlands. It was what originally motivated us to go to Nova Scotia.
You can drive the trail in one, two, three, how many days you want. It all depends on how many stops you want to make, how long you want to linger. There are charming fishing villages to explore like Neil's Harbour or Pleasant Bay; artisan shops to visit, like Leatherworks by John C. Roberts; and scenic pullouts and short hikes throughout the national park.
We made the drive counterclockwise, starting early morning from Baddeck and ending the day in Cheticamp. That saved the most dramatic seascapes -- the stretch from Pleasant Bay to Cheticamp -- for last.
We were also glad to have made a side trip to New Brunswick for the Bay of Fundy. Its low tides are so extreme, the tides go so far out, that a major source of amusement is walking the ocean floor -- when you're not taking before-and-after pictures of boats floating in water and then hours later on muddy land.
The most stunning place to walk the ocean floor may be Hopewell Rocks. The gimmick is that a ticket is good for 24 hours, so you can see the seastacks at high and low tides. (Few bother to return at high tide, a park worker told me.) When we arrived, a wedding was taking place under the arch of one of the famous "flowerpot" rocks, a seastack sprouting trees on the top. (The bride was wearing a white cocktail-length dress with white flip-flops.)
The wedding party was dispersing by the time I reached the ocean floor. As the wedded couple led a procession to the staircase up, I wondered if the bride and groom had promised to stay true to each other whether richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, at high tide or at low.
Meal Time in the Maritimes
Fresh fish and seafood are major allures. Here are some of the most memorable meals.
1) 2-lb lobster dinner at Tides Restaurant, Parkland Inn, Alma
2) Grilled maple salmon at Hart and Thistle, Halifax
3) Fish and chips, Chowder House, Neil's Harbour
4) Mussels and tomato gorgonzola soup, Lakeside Restaurant at Inverary Resort, Baddeck
5) Scallop linguine, Salt Shaker Deli, Lunenberg
Runner-up: Breakfasts at the Addington Arms Bed and Breakfast, Lunenberg