Friday, August 17, 2012

Canada Part 9b; The Atlantic, Pictou and lobster

After prising me away from the wool shop my girlfriend reminded me that we'd not been in the sea yet. Larry at the B&B had told us of a beach near where he grew up near Caribou. We pointed the truck along some gravel roads and after finding our way barred by a grading team tried another direction. This time we made it along the spit of Caribou Island Road and parked up. To set the scene a little we had been told that the water here was 'the warmest north of the Carolinas' by several people. I duly rolled my trouser legs up and paddled in.

That I'm wearing a hat, jeans and a thick shirt should tell you how warm the day was at that point. I can also assure you that if the water really is comparable to the Carolinas, then they must be chuffing cold.
Whilst we were observing the sea and trying to make a decision about a dip a local family came by walking their dog. The father paused by us to offer his thoughts; 'warmest water North of the Carolinas they say' he rumbled.
'Of course I fish these waters and can tell you that's nonsense.' He went on.
'Out in the Straight there the coastguard reckon you've got maybe 45 minutes in a full floatation suit and then you're a goner.'
Brilliant. I really wanted to dip in further than my shins now.
'Mind you' he said, 'we'll be swimming in the water over the other side (of the spit) next month.'
Well that was an eye opener.
Grabbing towels and shoes we bade them farewell and walked up and over the spit road to the other side. I managed to gracefully slide down the bank and narrowly miss some large rocks whilst my good lady was already dipping her toes in the water.
'It's far warmer' she exclaimed, and that was it. Clothes off to reveal the bathing suit underneath and she was in.
Obviously someone had to stay on the shore and document all this, and I nobly accepted the task. Trying not to sound too cheerful when I saw a bank of rain coming our way across the water.
'You might want to get out soon!' I informed her.
So that was it. A 2 minute splash and float and the box marked 'swim in the Atlantic' was ticked off.
Back into the truck and after moaning about sand on my feet (it's a bloke thing apparently) we were away again.
Next stop Pictou for Postcards.
We parked up and went firstly into a gifty crafty shop. A few postcards were bought and the rest of the goods were browsed, only to find that a lot of them were marked as made elsewhere...
I then dragged the girlfriend into the Grohmann Knives shop/factory. After a few minutes I realised that I probably couldn't bring back all the lovely knives I wanted so settled for a lovely little rosewood handled folder. The clock was ticking and it was getting close to tea time. We plumped for a pub on the harbour to have a brew and write some postcards.

It was a strange feeling sitting on the jetty patio with the sides down whilst the rain lashed about.
Also this was stuck on the sides and I awaited waitress-based armageddon-
But it was not forthcoming.
On the other side of the walls was the ship Hector and although we were too late to have a look around it, we were still able to snap a couple of pictures.

Something rather bleak and natural about seeing it in the greyness.
Back to the truck and onwards. This time to sort out something to eat. We had been advised that although it was possible to get fresh lobster in the local restaurants, more often than not is was served cold with a hot butter sauce. This did not tickle the tastebuds, so we took the other piece of advice which had been to go to the Sobey's supermarket chain and have them cook one of the fresh local lobsters there and eat it. For the record lobster does not agree with me. I've tried it before and the results weren't great so this one was just for my girlfriend. The lady on the counter was great and showed her how to use the small pincer to pick all the meat out after cracking it for us once steamed.
I drove back through a torrential rain storm with the sounds of satisfaction emanating forth from the other side of the truckpit.
One very happy girlfriend.
Back to Truro as I wanted to try some recommended fish and chips, but we arrived 20 minutes too late as the shop had shut up. 20 minutes that we had to wait for the lobster to cook. Grumble grumble.
A pint and a plate of fish n chips in a pub sufficed instead before we returned back to our comfy bed at the B&B

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