A trip to Nova Scotia by coastal New Englanders may seem unnecessary; simply more of what we’re already used to here, only further north and east. That Atlantic province of Canada does have many interesting connections with us Yankees. But, as they say, vive la difference!
Two of us decided to venture from the coast of Maine on this expedition, to drive a loop of the lower third of Nova Scotia this past June. Opting for the fastest route to get there, we chose taking the CAT from Portland (Bar Harbor is the other departure point) to Yarmouth. Even though it’s a boat that carries vehicles, it’s hard to think of the CAT as a ferry. Rather, it’s more like a limo ride in the fast lane of an expressway across the Bay of Fundy. With prices at the gas pump what they are these days, its ticket price may match or even undercut the expense of the drive, and it saves a substantial amount of time. Its friendly and comfortable passenger deck is compartmentalized into a number of spaces: a small casino offering slot machines, several theater areas showing recent movies or sports and news programming, seating along the windows for snacking, reading, and snoozing, and a small aft area open to the outside, half of it the only designated smoking section on board. In June, it’s common to see whales swimming by as they migrate north. From Portland, the trip is a little over five hours (and from Bar Harbor, less than three). When you exit the CAT, the pace changes dramatically. You enter a different country, time zone, and ambience. This, we discovered, was the land of slower and gentler.
In short time, we were headed east out of Yarmouth, rounding the bottom of the peninsular province. Approaching Cape Sable, we were curious to see West Pubnico’s electric-generating windmills. We easily found them at the far end of town, the 17 metal towers standing tall in a clearing in woods above the shore, whirring in the stiff breeze. Their sight and sound were eerily high tech in an otherwise timeless-looking fishing village where all the residents speak French. Heading out, we stopped to offer a lift to a local who, seeing our interest, showed us the lobster fleet, tied up now in their off-season. (They fish there from November to May). That chance encounter was what we would come to find was typical of Nova Scotians. They’re easy to talk to and proud of their heritage, history and home.
For those of us living on the coast who can’t get enough of all things marine-related, Nova Scotia is a treasure to explore. Every town seems to offer “living history” with still-traditional architecture and ways of life. There are also many well-done museums and interpretive centers preserving the legacy of a tenacious seafaring people. The places we visited with those kinds of opportunities on the South Shore included Shelburne, Liverpool, Lunenburg, Mahone Bay and Halifax. The art of boatbuilding and the craft of boating are highlighted in several; the lives of fish and fishermen described in detail in others. Those curious about the current state of fisheries (yes, there’s no cod) will appreciate the Fisheries Museum in Lunenburg with its aquarium and working fishermen on-site. There’s also lively coverage of pirates, privateers and rumrunners. And not surprisingly, given all these dangerous livelihoods, there are sobering memorials in many of the towns and in Halifax, marking the names of those who died at sea. Who knows if there’s a relationship between lives lived on the edge and the popularity of grog, but this is great country for microbrews. Beginning with Rudder’s in Yarmouth and culminating with Halifax’s pantheon of brewers — including Propeller, Garrison, Alexander Keith’s and Granite — plenty of good beers await a tasting.
On the other side of the peninsula, we visited Grand-Pre, the historic site marking the Acadians’ forced deportation from Nova Scotia. Caught in a squeeze between France and England in the first half of the 18th century with each nation vying for dominance, these French-related but politically neutral settlers were deemed by the British in 1755 to be a problem. None of those expelled went directly to Louisiana, but the ones who eventually ended up there became known as Cajuns in Americanized nomenclature. To replace the Acadians, whose ingenuity and hard toil had established arable land from Fundy tidal flats reaching far inland, willing settlers more supportive of the Brits were recruited from New England. They are referred to in Nova Scotia as “the planters,” and the still-present homes and names will especially resonate with visitors from Massachusetts and Connecticut.
As we paralleled the Bay of Fundy, our stops included Wolfville, Annapolis Royal and Port Royal, all once-thriving centers with marine-based economies, now turning to the tourism industry by developing their historic and cultural attractions. Digby is still more of a gritty fishing community, where the fleet for their famed scallops is headquartered. The tides are more dramatic in differential than Maine’s, but the tang in the air, the waterfront full of pickup trucks and the ambience of the docks made us feel right at home; it could have been Vinalhaven! The last stretch of coast above Yarmouth is still Acadian and French-speaking. There are wonderful sandy beaches, brightly painted houses, and interesting local dishes to try.
What a special place Nova Scotia is, we concluded. We basked in its beauty and the residents’ kind and generous spirit. Even the CAT, as it ripped and roared back across the water towards the States, sustained for us that mood of well-being, as we watched the surface of sea shining into sunset. A week of busy travel was ending. But we didn’t feel exhausted as much as energized, by all we’d seen, the food and drink we’d enjoyed, and the people we’d met. q
More about Nova Scotia
— Tina Cohen