Category Archives: DAY posts

DAY 25 – 10/9/2012 Fredericton, N.B. to Baxter State Park, ME

We were reluctant to leave David’s cousin Gordon and his girlfriend, Jackie, in Fredericton, New Brunswick, but also, we were eager to continue the Tramper Voyage.

Gordon is as gracious as he can be. We felt very welcome in his home.

Gordon and Jackie's lovely garden

Gordon and Jackie’s lovely garden

He’s very fit and active into his seventies so we really enjoyed hiking with him. David hadn’t seen Gordon for many years and we’d never met Jackie but we were warm friends right away. I love it when that happens!!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAJust before crossing the border, we saw a sign for the World’s Largest Axe in Nackawic, N.B. Naturally, we had to go see it! My daughter always finds fun, funky things while on the road. The World’s Largest Chest of Drawers, Foam-henge, etc. Visiting the Axe was a must.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Funny story about the border crossing. Not as funny as the Bay of Fundy Aunt Margaret story but sort of odd. We forgot to pack our passports when we left Baltimore. You might think this was an epic fail, but I was only one day post-biopsy when we left. The anesthesia had barely worn off. Also, David had a whirlwind 2 weeks getting the 4Runner ready after the neighbor’s Land Cruiser proved to have too many problems to be a good Tramper puller. Every day in port was a wasted day of the Tramper Voyage!

So, our leave-taking from Baltimore was, you might say, a bit rushed. Months of planning, one day of shoving everything in.

We had no passports. We had forgotten to pack the passports! No problem. Yet. Olivia mailed them to Augusta, Maine to my brother. Only, they had expired in March. Also, we were unaware that, in 2009, the border-crossing rules had changed. You needed a passport to get back into the U.S.

Even though a USPS official in Augusta told us that, with his official stamped and signed photocopies of our passports we would be able to get back in, we held our breath a bit when we passed through US Customs. You can’t hold your breath too much, however, because you don’t want to raise any red flags with the Border Patrol.

imagesWe tried to look and sound normal and I guess we succeeded because the very nice officer waved us back in to the U.S.! Phew!

Please click to really appreciate this photo!

Please click to really appreciate this photo!

As the sun was setting, we drove into the magnificent Baxter State Park. It is 200,000 acres of unspoiled land in North Central Maine.

100_7102Most of the land surrounding Baxter is pretty empty as well. Baxter, unlike other  state parks, does not have camper hookups, electricity or running water.

100_7053The campsites are few and primitive . Only a couple of gravel of roads run through the park. It is entered by only 2 gates, at the Northeast border and at the Southern border.

That little silver box in the distance is the Tramper.

That little silver box in the distance is the Tramper.

We parked the Tramper in a large meadow as darkness fell. We turned out the lights and the stars were extravagant and amazing! The woods were completely quiet and dark. I stepped outside again in the middle of the night and there were the big, sparkling stars again, even brighter than before.

By this time it was quite cold but I could not go back inside until I drank in more of the quiet beauty of the deep Baxter night.

-Jane

Day 23 10/7/2012 Fundy National Park, Cousins, Waterfalls, and another Brick for Jane and David

I wanted to meet my father’s cousin from Fredericton, NB.  My last visit from him was when I was about 12 years old.  He came to visit my aunt Peg, his grandfather and my family.  Then, he signified all the cool things about being grown up.  He laughed, talked about Ski-doos, camping, and fishing.  He and his brother even had candy branded with wrappers I’d never seen.  He was very nice and his ways lured my interest North even way back then.

Jackie and Gordon join us for a post-pic at an overlook

Jackie and Gordon join us for a post-pic at an overlook

By last-minute phone I agreed to have Gordon and Jackie come to meet us for breakfast in the grandeur of Canada’s Fundy National Park.  Each of us alone could have been loquacious but all squeezed into the Tramper (4 at the dinette, Gordon, Jackie, J-P, Anne, then Jane and I on the mini camping bench at the head) made for a laughing, warm time with real Pennsylvania ?, maple syrup and a pace that none of really thought about.  After such a relaxed breakfast, both sets of guests were left with time for only a “little nature hike”.  Dickson Falls provided a stupendously beautiful spot.  Not a huge falls, but hugely beautiful.  My biggest treat was stepping back, taking pictures and picturing people gaining the intended benefit of a park.  All were ambling gently around, each pointing at their own sense of what to notice, chatting and being people with a shared, communal smile.  Anyone who designs or preserves parks would be happy celebrating the scene.

Perhaps my most reassuring moments were Gordon talking about his life style.  He takes no medications, lives in that unplanned, but willing way of allowing good moments into your day.  I won’t say his age, but at my 51, if I get to stay active and enjoy like he, I will celebrate a life of more than I expect or deserve.  Gordon’s inspiration to my youth continues today as he Lives every day seemingly without concern nor plans for what he should be doing.  He golfs regularly,  almost daily.  Exercises on a “Healthrider” every day (maybe only 5 minutes in good weather, but more through the deep Canada Winter).

100_6937After our brief hike our visitors had to get going their ways.  Jane and I said some sad goodbyes, Thanksgiving here is tomorrow, so it seems they all have commitments.  We drove off on the small bumpy highway 114 to let our decisions make themselves for the day.  I lazily thought, its cold, let’s leave the bikes in the truck (it takes about 5 minutes to get them out and reassemble them) and do a hike.  We did notice a trail on the map listed as “mountain biking” though and as we parked at Bennett Brook, decided to ride.  Overall the trail was 5.3 kilometers in to arrive at the confluence of Bennett Brook and the Pointe Wolfe River.  It started as a “lawn”, a mowed trail wide enough for a 4 wheeler, transistioned into some nice root/rocky mt. biking, then a fine blasting tree-line old road down to a point where no bikes were allowed.  It made sense as we hiked (hiding our bikes up in the woods above the trail) down some very tight and twisty switchbacks.  We descended steeply through mossy, ferny, nice places to find the ford below.

Another peek of Dickson Falls

Another peek of Dickson Falls

The ridges and hike probably dropped ~1000 feet into the valley.  A nice middle to our Brick of Bike, Hike, Bike.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blasting, tree lined downhill

Blasting, tree lined downhill

The only problem was hiking difficult trails with the cleated, slippery bike shoes.  Caution was the theme and no injuries or falls occurred .  The green beauty gave us rewards for our crawl-pace, near tip-toe hike in bike shoes that anyone who has ever walked in such could identify with.

– David

 

 

 

The Point Wolfe River at the bottom of the hike

The Point Wolfe River at the bottom of the hike

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Bennett Brook

 

Day 22 10/6/2012 Our Tremendous Quebecois’

In life you sometimes meet someone, totally by chance or maybe at work, who YOU KNOW YOU WILL KEEP IN YOUR LIFE!  I was mountain biking one winter day about 8 years ago, and as I headed out of the woods I was surprised to meet another rider. He seemed more surprised to see me…there was 3″ of snow on the ground and he was Canadian (favoring the blue and white Fleur de Lis flag of Quebec, not the “maple leaf”).   Who in Maryland would bike in the snow?  Well, his name turned out to be Jean-Philippe. His wife Anne was in Baltimore for our famous Hopkins and Hubble Space Telescope.  J-P and Anne’s 31/2 year contract in Baltimore flew as Texas became the next place to work (it won over Vancouver, Hawaii and some other renowned telescopes).  We, of course, strive to share our fondness staying in touch (emails, calls….infrequent by busy-ness, but always greeted with the same gracious response).  These friends never scold for timing or say “you never call” or “you should call more”…we just take up at the moment.  Grateful for those around us, sometimes surprised by the resonance of reception.  Surprised by what they see in kind?100_6957

 

One of our survival techniques, a way to see as much of them as possible, has been to ski or vacation together.  In Feb-Mar 2011 we met them and shared an incredible week in a rented ski chalet in Utah.  Skiing with them at Brighton, Snowbird and Solitude won’t be forgotten.  But that is another little set of stories.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis day we arrived to meet Anne and Jean-Philippe in Moncton at the Riverview Walk and flushed a pheasant from the rushes where he lay.  The river there seems to be tidal also, but its hard to imagine this being so many miles inland from the bay.  The muddy tall banks confirmed it as we walked to find a brew pub in a new town.  Neither they nor we had ever been into Moncton.  The Oktoberfest menu lured us to try Bratwurst and “Keg-conditioned” (probably small-batch) ale.  Yummy enough (for beer, as I am not the biggest fan, drinking only about 4 or 5 glasses per year), smooth and well picked.  The food was good too, although we perhaps forgot to take a picture to share.

We spent the eve catching up and went to bed fairly early after all.  The Hopewell Rocks and Fundy National Park lay ahead.  Even though I warned J-P and Anne about my highway speeds, they still seemed to have to work hard to keep slowing down to my crawl.  Flashers on and the occasional car stuck between us did not impede our safe bobbing arrival.

Fundy flora

Fundy flora

The rocks lay off the shore in the Bay of Fundy, where the tide and thousands of years have formed awesome erosion patterns (and worth the admission figures for throngs of people over time).  The areas and economies brighten as you near the entrance, signs and attractions pop up miles before…then, there you have it: One gate to pass through then some very well-kept trails and viewpoints marking centuries of inhabitants and tourists.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe “flower-pot rocks” are several hundred feet tall, named by their appearance as trees and grasses sprout at the tops, while necks and narrow cliffs and caves are formed by the tides and icing of time.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAnne so graciously treated our camping and National Park admissions as we arrived in Fundy Provincial Parc enough before dark to enjoy setting up camp before dark then relaxing around a fire.

 

Life clings where it can. The seaweed has tiny bladders filled with air that make it float when the tide comes in.

Life clings where it can. The seaweed has tiny bladders filled with air that make it float when the tide comes in.

Jean-Philippe hasn’t been REAL camping for years.  In Texas, he’s lucky to set up a tent near one tree and they don’t allow fires.  We had the traditional hours of watching and tending a nice fire before wind change and smoke chased us to bed.

– David

 

J-P's campfire

J-P’s campfire

Day 21 10/5/2012

Written Day 21,

On the road again.  we are “forced” to take a big highway, Canadian 1, across from Maine to Sackville, New Brunswick.  There seem to be no small secondary roads connecting.  Old route 1 is being replaced, apparently the highway is to be ready early and below budget.  Huh, what about THAT?!  Doesn’t seem like that would happen at home.  The few old parts of 1 we drive make US wish the new road weren’t going in. Where it is old, it is small and quaint;just what we like.   Where it has been completed, it is a monument to a smooth, wide consistent road capable of Winter maintenance in a place like this and allowing an easy 100kph for anything but our little V-6 4Runner with the big Tramper in tow.   Ah, the flashers on the uphills as it drops to 40 mph.

We thought today was a long driving day and likely to carry us to our friends, then we recall they have a reunion of their own.  J-P is finishing out some projects in Texas through January, while Anne has assumed a teaching job in New Brunswick.  Today, Jean-Philippe arrives in Canada.  We should at least wait til tomorrow.

Black Harbor became our accidental tourist stop.  The highway offered a blue sign with a “?”, the international symbol for tourist information.  After 6-8 miles down a side road we felt misled, then, there at the bottom of a near dead end road on a peninsula, was another “?” sign.  The Information center door was, “of course” locked and as we walked away a gracious employee from the store next door, leaving for the day, came back from his car to offer us a hand.  He asked if we wanted some help.  Then we went into the same building through the next door, into a yarn and knitting store.  There too was another gracious employee, offering anything they had.  Snacks, yarn, BEAUTIFUL knit goods, truly useful and real woolen wares.  It was VERY HARD not to buy some neat things, some warm things, something for Olivia, something for Jane…but we can only travel til the money runs out.  We need to try to be frugal…food, gas, shelter costs won’t relent much.

We bumbled upon the New River Campground and Park on the Bay of Fundy as I thought…does this part of the bay have that big tide change.  Checking in at the campground I saw the high and low tide times posted.  ….maybe?  Next, after paying up for the night I asked how much the tide changed here?  In feet, or meters?  8 meters.  8 meters!  Wow, this is really on That bay.  We checked in, parked at a nice site and walked over to the beach area.  Off to the left of the point was a rocky area with a steep drop more that 28 feet.  Perhaps, just as odd was the 200 yard stretch of sandy beach that also represented the depth change.  We couldn’t help but look back at where we would run if the tide rushed in.  Jane dipped her feet into the bay, small waves broke as evening darkened and we decided to go cook something.  We fried some “salted cod” we had bought.  willing to try anything we sat and ate.  Soon I realized the salty, salty, salty meal would be an emetic and we both decided to eat no more.  I guess we’ll have to google how people prepare this stuff.  Sure hated to waste it.

As always, we met a nice couple here in camp.  Two nice couples really.  first is Dennis, from New Brunswick and a welder of the old school.  All types, any job, hard work complete with mini-stroke warnings of our too-short lives.  Dennis and I rambled about the solar power and many small Tramper details swapping times with a 1930-? Pontiac frame and a Land Cruiser project.  His dad, like him, was skilled at whatever had to be done.  We are all learning every day (I hope).  The next couple, from State College, PA, was trying to share a nice quiet dinner in the “kitchen area” of the campground when we arrived to wash our dishes.  She noticed our oddly similar cookware as she commented on our Big All-Clad sauté’ pan that I insisted on bringing.  We love food, we like to cook, how could we cook big meals or feasts without a big pan? (Sorry tonights meal was not picture worthy.  Anyone know what to do with salted cod?)  We are doubting that even the local skunks are going to want what we made (even after washing and rinsing before frying).

DAY 20 – 10/4/2012 somewhere in the Maine Woods, in which we see a moose!

Impossibly tall, with an appearance at once majestic and goofy, we rounded a corner and saw a Moose! On bikes on the logging road, we were about 40 yards away. We knew he was a boy – he had a beautiful rack of antlers. Agog, we could barely get the camera out for a few photos as he stalked away into the trees. We’ve never been in close proximity to a moose before – just distant glimpses in Wyoming.

We had set up camp on a wooded rise at the confluence of Machias River and the West Branch of the Machias. This night, we were in an actual campsite. It was about 5 miles into the woods on the dirt logging road. But the campsite was completely deserted at this time of year except for us and the birds and chipmunks. After our moose bike ride, we put the kayak in the Machias at our camp.

I used to do sprint-distance triathlons. Doing two out of the three sports in a training session was called a ‘brick’. So, on this day in the beautiful wilds of Maine, our brick was a bike ride and paddle.

Gratitude was the overriding emotion of the day for me. I am grateful that, after the cancer ordeal, here I am, in this beautiful place far from civilization. I’m also so grateful for my wonderful husband, who really made this possible. We’re just ordinary middle-class people. Yet we were able to stop working for awhile and go off into the woods. Absolutely priceless!

We don’t shoot the rapids. We only paddle up to take the picture of the rapids!

– Jane