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Digby doings & fun on the Fundy

Nova Scotia rocks.

On Thursday, I stayed over in Digby

where there is an excellent used/rare book shop called Crooked Timber, packed to the rafters with all kinds of everything.

The B&B; owners sent me in the welcome direction of the Boardwalk Cafe, which was a wonderful spot. I had some extremely good seafood chowder (featuring Digby scallops), accompanied by excellent home-made dinner roll

and I had to leave room for the strawberry rhubarb pie which was sublime.

After a lunch like that, supper needed to be light, so I wandered into O’Neil’s where I had earlier bought some dulse

and opted for some steamed Cherrystone clams, which the waitress explained were baby quahogs; but smaller, richer and less sandy. They were just the thing.

I had been thinking about lemon meringue pie since lunchtime, having just missed the last slice at the Boardwalk, but this was a perfect size to finish.

And then I was off on a hyper-tour of the Annapolis Valley, Canada’s first breadbasket.

First stop was Meadowbrook Meat Market, where they had some nice bacon. Then on to Port Williams, where the Fox Hill Cheese House lives,

and where they sell something called “Parmesran” which I can assure the buying public is nowhere near the item it seeks to imitate. They had a few aged cheeses (Gouda and Cheddar) which were good, but told me they didn’t have the space to age anything longer than that.

Had some coffee at Just Us! Coffee Roastery & Museum, where they’ve spent a lot of time and money making a righteous display about Fair Trade and coffee production, and they have a fair trade products shop and cafe. I picked up a very good lemon square for the road…

I didn’t have time for a tasting or tour at Grand Pre Winery, but I did make it to lunch, where I had something they called gnocchi, which I wouldn’t have called that, but which was good and covered in local mushrooms (oyster, portabella and button) and Fox Hill cheese curds.

I spent the second half of my day on the Bay of Fundy, watching the waves gallop in. Getting there, I found some of the back roads a bit less than perfect.

The shoreline is dramatic.

We had a little walk on the beach before the tide started coming in.

Then we were treated to some of Ian’s local, line-caught (by Ian) grilled trout with spicy mayo

while Susan demonstrated the amazing portable pedal organ

and then we ate some salmon pesto pasta

and the strawberry rhubarb crisp was steaming on the table

as tragedy struck the cream jug, but it made a fair map of the United States, so that was cool.



Nova Scotia

I arrived at St Margaret’s Bay to fair weather on Tuesday evening.

Wild poodles roam the woods, looking for crows to bark at

or bounce around with Geoff, noted local poodle herder

who made the spécialité de la maison, what he calls Zulu Bannock (or buns a la bbq)

with amazing mussels, before

and after cooking.

And of course there was lobster.

And strawberries are in season, yippee! Here with Jan’s hand-crafted tea biscuit:

If I read tails correctly, this one’s saying Don’t bug me.

Then on to Lunenburg, where there are more mussels, hanging from the electricity poles along with a lot of other seafood:

And I noticed some crowds milling around the docks, with a boat in the distance

coming nearer

coming nearer

and packed to the gunwhales with students, returning after a semester on the high seas in a tall ship as part of the Class Afloat program.

Newfoundland to Nova Scotia

Had a last supper in St John’s on Monday night from the Afghan Restaurant on Duckworth Street. A tiny place where granny literally cooks homestyle, on a home-sized stove in the back of a place that would be stretched to seat 12 people, the food is delicious. Not pretty, at least in my takeway, but the lamb was melt-in-your mouth, the rice excellently seasoned, and the naans stretchy and tasty.

And I confirmed that I was indeed experiencing a nouveau spring (after experiencing a record number of them this year: Victoria, London, Parma, Alicante, Saskatchewan and now Newfoundland) as the lilacs were just opening in St John`s.

Spent a last morning in The Rooms, which are big, but I didn’t feel they were terribly well laid out: everything a bit too chopped up with the art gallery divided between different floors. Still, some interesting things there, and some exciting sounding art to come in the galleries. I liked the Merchant Vessels functional pottery show, and in the museum there was a display of a couple of Innu caribou hide coats that blew my mind. Called pishakanakup, they were made of fine, thin hides: summer wear for caribou hunters, their designs intended to flatter their patrons, in colours intended to invoke caribou (the reds are to mimic caribou blood). According to the display only 30 such coats exist in Canadian museums.

In the seabird display, I was entranced by the story of the Razorbill, which is rare and the closest living relative of the now-extinct Great Auk. Apparently the chicks hatch and launch themselves into the ocean before they can fly, where they are tended by their fathers for the two months it takes them to fledge!

That wore me out and I went in search of food. The tomato soup with juniper berries was not good, but the salad was

and so was the view of the harbour (where I was standing the morning before is centre left at the harbour mouth).

Then it was goodbye Bond Street

hello Halifax cloudburst (right on our baggage as it was being unloaded!)

Monday on Signal Hill

We had the best weather ever on Monday and after morning coffee, sensibly ascended the heights of Signal Hill

by taxi and had a wander round. Here’s how the city looked from up there:

We walked down to look at the Queen’s Battery Barracks

and though neither of us could see inside, my camera could.

Nice view of beyond.. looking out to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of North America.

After that, we walked down the hill, and parted ways. I pressed on down the hill to amuse myself at the Craft Council Gallery which had an excellent show on upstairs, and offered unbearable temptation in the shop. And after that, it was a perfect day for admiring colour in St John’s.

Saw some bleeding hearts.

And planned my visit to The Rooms for the following day. After which I could hardly walk because of all those hills, my knees complaining of their lost youth.

Boreal poets

Sunday carried on being warm and sunny…


Even the birds get pretty houses on Signal Hill Road

and some more mailboxes.

The party bus was waiting and we all piled aboard

and had a photo op at Portugal Cove

before embarking on our Boreal Poetry tour led by Marlene Creates, who read poems in the places where they were composed

like this rock face

pointing out the wildflowers that inspired one poem.

Feels like another spring dawning for me. Fiddleheads and flowers…

A stream runs through it

we endured the blackflies – out in their fury – for the sake of poetry

and forest

and nautical knots in the rope handrails

And then we had a reading. In the garage, which was not entirely blackfly-free, but quite comfortable and atmospheric. Penn Kemp

Sharon Singer,

Susan McMaster,

Joe Blades, and then

Barbara Nickel

And then it was back on the bus, back to the hotel (where food service stops early) so we wrapped up with some pizza we ordered in at the bar.

Newfoundland Sunday

The sun finally shone on St John’s today. We were unprepared for the sudden brightness and warmth! Here, at last, “the million dollar harbour view” (taken from the Dildo room – named as they all are after places in Newfoundland in the Battery Hotel… but who would request this room I wonder?)

We had Cod Au Gratin yesterday for lunch, featuring salt cod and surprisingly good despite appearances:

Last night’s banquet, Anne Szumigalski Lecture, book launch and prize-giving ceremony took place at the Fluvarium, where you can go eyeball to eyeball with brown trout.

Many poets milled…

The banquet’s highlights were the salad which had a good dressing and amazingly sweet cherry tomatoes

and the cheesecake, but the routine banquet choices of salmon or chicken were about what you might expect; the chicken was uninspired. How does one choose between industrially-reared chicken and farmed salmon anyway? Tough call.

Then Maurice Mierau

introduced the night’s star turn, Don McKay delivering a talk on geo-poetics.

Followed by prizes, book launch readings…

Afterwards there was music; the harpist, I was told, plays with the symphony. The squeezebox players were excellent.

It all sounded great but I had to scoot off early in order to catch my ride back. The rest was a blur….

There are some great mailboxes on Signal Hill Road.

Breakfast at Coffee Matters on Military Road (I’m afraid the fruit was awful – sour, unwholesome, nearly fermented and I suspect it was a pre-cut restaurant pack rather than a salad made in house. The yogurt wasn’t good either. The coffee was ok…)

Lunch from Sweet Relic, an absolutely four star foodie joint,

in the oldest building in the oldest city in North America;

just fabulous: spinach torte with goat cheese, and a sweet potato frittata with brie. In compostable packaging, no less.

Another day, another bed….

And tonight I’m going on a Boreal Poetry Garden walk.