We read a recent NY Times article citing the best travel blogs of the year; one couple detailed, “Traveling the World Lavishly on a Budget”. Their strategy was to give up their house, stay with family part of the year, and fly internationally to sophisticated, urban locations for 3+ month rentals, thereby exploring each area for a longer time. When I added up their pensions, investments,  and annuities vaguely referenced, it became clear that these two world travelers do “budget” travel with an income of at least $9,000/month, post-tax! Spreading that much money overseas, I am sure that they are an American “good will” team worldwide. Bless them! We are of course happy for all Americans that get to expand their world view with travel…on any budget.

Planning on living to at least one hundred years of age, we would both have had to continue working for another 10-15 years to be in that position, assuming that real estate and stocks perform brilliantly during that time. Instead, we decided we had a choice:

WORK MORE…OR…SPEND LESS AND RETIRE NOW, while still in our Fifties.

“Spend less” meant downsizing to my 350 sq.ft., off-the-grid loft/art studio; this ensured my son a continuing home in our small, close-knit community for his college vacations, and provided us a home base should we need to take a break from travel. We also unloaded all  cars except our 17 ft. mobile home, which we also use in town as it is easy to park. After paying taxes, health insurance, cell phone service, home maintenance costs, and college tuition, the $3,000/month remainder is dedicated to travel and adventure.

There is a reason that peripatetic old farts like us are in RVs:  hotels at $100/day full-time would blow the $3,000/month budget, limiting our financial ability to enjoy local cultural attractions like restaurants, classes, guides, exhibits, green fees…and cocktails with a view! Even RV Parks can be too pricey, especially near big cities, that we so love. We are big fans of the National Park Service (NPS), state and local campgrounds, many of which discount 50% to holders of the NPS “Access” pass, eg. overnights cost about $8-$15/night. We tend to choose the less expensive, non-electric sites, and hang with the younger and more fun Tent Campers, unless we need AC at night. Some of the campgrounds have Wi-Fi and free hot showers too (Woo-Hoo!)  In 11 months of travel, we have spent about 60 nights as guests in the homes of friends and family, 30 nights in motels/youth hostels/airbnb.com homes, and 12 nights on electric hook-up in campgrounds/RVparks.  Other than relaxing 3 week stays with my mom in Pasadena, CA, and my cousin Ed on SeaBrook Island, NC, we have been moving constantly for 10 months; for a “rest”, we are renting a large room (with a Queen bed!) for the month of July ($600 including wifi and utilities) with a dog-friendly family in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

If there is no pretty, government-sponsored campground nearby the areas we want to explore, we “stealth camp”. That means staying overnight in a national forest, or in a quiet, safe neighborhood…without pissing anyone off, we hope. Being van sized at 17 feet, we are mostly ignored by the neighbors…our favorite being the very quiet neighbors in local graveyards (Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 in the New Orleans Garden District, rocks!) and by churches, all night bakeries, and in ports.  Walmart, Sam’s Club, and Canadian Tire provide free overnight parking in a pinch as well. However, our best find has been the, “Cracker Barrel Country Store and Restaurant”, 600 in the U.S., and the welcome mat is always unfurled for RVers. They don’t serve alcohol, close at 10 PM and are  usually surrounded by  corporate chain hotels or medical office buildings so they are quiet, well lit, safe…and no reservations required! There are also websites like freecamping.org that cue us to sites. The finest stealth camping combines a nice view and free wifi; cocktails at sunset, followed by “Movie Night”, streaming Netflix on our computers. Almost two hundred stealth camping nights, during 24,000 miles of travel, has meant that we travel freely in every sense: no fixed itinerary, no reservations, maximum ability to respond both to serendipity and travel delay …and helps keep us on budget. The kindness of  locals, providing us with overnight parking and local travel tips, has been priceless. Yep, living large in a small space…

Surprisingly, the biggest expense is not fuel. So far, everywhere except Canada (average $4.55/gallon) has had cheaper petrol than the San Francisco Bay Area, often up to $.50 per gallon cheaper, saving us $20 a fill. We have a small, aerodynamic rig that gets 17-21 mpg, and we try to stay a few days in a place so we can use the bikes, kayak, and shank’s mare, instead of the Roadtrek for local exploration.

At little additional cost and vehicle length, we traded up from a VW Eurovan Pop-up to a 17 ft. Roadtrek, gaining a great potty and standing room for Steven. “Cat Baths” do not cut it long term so we are big fans of local YMCAs and community centers where we can workout, swim, shower, often for free or a $5 guest pass. We also invested about $3,000 in improvements in the RV when we got it: new tires, suspension, brakes, drive belts, a covered ceiling fan that works in a hot boggy rain, an outside hot shower, and refrigerator repair. With the 2000 Roadtrek 170 in ideal condition, our “budget travel” on $3,000/month looks something like this (..and again, we are very grateful that we have this “fun money” to rely on after covering the necessities):

Gas/Propane:  $15/day  (occasional extended stays balance out the high fuel demand on the long haul days )

Food: (groceries/dining out/household/alcohol):  $55/day (just like at home, making your own food and drinks saves a ton

Activities (golf/concerts/theatre/entry fees/guides/tango and tennis classes/public transportation in cities):  $10/day (fortunately, biking, hiking, and kayaking are free!)

RV (repair/maintenance fund):  $10/day

Overnight stays:  $15/night (stealth camping nights balance out splurge stays at motels in big cities and resorts; our favorite motel chains, Drury Inn and Motel 6, are the only two chains that do not charge at least $30 extra for our dog to stay with us in the room)

We have found that lots of exercise (with the plethora of sports equipment we carry), free e-Books from the public libraries (with 10 libraries to pull from, there are always 30 books on the digital shelf), our folding chaise lounges, extended RV shade canopy, cocktails, and a nice breeze off an ocean/lake/river, provide the relaxing “comforts of home.” Until we get to locations worth the splurge for better accommodations, we live simply, off-the-grid, living large in a small space.  So far we have even found great medical care at Kaiser-Permanente facilities in Georgia and Washington DC, providing flu shots, medication refills on plan, and some minor surgery for Steven. We are researching our eligibility for “Obamacare”, as we only have emergency room coverage in non-Kaiser areas of the U.S.

We have stayed on budget, and found that the downside of this lifestyle, is the “small” part. As anyone who lives aboard their sailboat knows, it is crucial to stow items immediately after use, or chaos ensues, making the space seem even smaller… and the inhabitants crabby. Also, when the weather sucks, or the mosquitoes/black flies descend, pinning us inside for too long, tempers flare, and Scrabble becomes a dangerous activity for two competitive players. Still, this kind of “budget travel” would not work if we were not good at “taking space” within a small space.  Lety and I are “Bed Dwellers” with e-books, chocolate and hot tea in hand, and go to sleep early just like at home; Steven takes over the “Den”, the front captain chairs, and enjoys books, streaming Netflix, scotch, and chocolate until he is ready to entice Lety to her own bed, and climb over me into the pre-warmed bed. Sometimes “small” is just so sweet and intimate, as opposed to crowded and limiting. That is the True Love part. True Love is also aided by cool nights, abundant exercise, and days apart now and then, pursuing different activities.

However, the “not so sweet” issue with “small” is…the damn bed. Good sleep is crucial, and remains a gnarly challenge for us. Steven is over 6 feet tall; the bed is bound on head and toe to a 6 foot length, and less than 4 feet wide. We contemplated a slightly bigger Roadtrek 190, adding 2 feet to the length, to enjoy a queen size bed. However, with our bikes on the back, we would be 21 feet long and would be unable to park in all the normal city street parking spaces we enjoy now at 19 feet with bikes racked. Instead, we opted for a new, still too tiny, but very good mattress, deciding to maintain our ability to park wherever we want. Oh well, life is always a set of trade-offs. Trade-offs suck.

Fortunately, Steven is very skilled at the Power Nap and ….we are retired after all…why not nap? Whereas I don’t know how to nap (yet!), so I withdraw my crabby self  into a book, and woe to any mortal that intrudes on my prickly silence.

Besides the too small bed, our sleep is challenged by heat, humidity, and mosquitoes. TRUE LOVE IS TRULY TESTED BY SLEEP DEPRIVATION. We are hot weather wimps. We may have to amend our budget to include more A/C motels and electric hook-up nights as we head across the northern U.S. beginning in August… just to ensure good sleep when hot, humid conditions prevail. That is why we found ourselves in mid-May  in the Canadian Atlantic Maritime Provinces, in the snowdrifts and rain, on our way even further north to Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador. Big, furry Newfoundland dogs stay cool here during the summer, and so we hope, will we.

Bonne Nuit Et De Doux Reve, Mon Petite Choux!

The capital, St. John’s, is the oldest English settlement on the North American continent. You can imagine the birthday party they throw for themselves! Add to that the following simultaneous events: 1) the Summer Solstice;  2) the Supermoon; 3) the first warm summery day; 4) a 3 day holiday weekend (Canada’s Discovery Day); 5) the last day of school; and, 6) the humpback whales hanging out for several days at the “Narrows”, the entry to the Bay so their low spout and big splashy tails can be seen from town….party down!

At 5 venues in the city, four times a day, throughout the week, there was free Irish Trad music, pocket opera, ethnic dance presentations, community dances…and did I mention free cupcakes? We had to hustle to catch the free acts, along with a wonderful production of Mozart’s Magic Flute, and the exhibits at “The Rooms”, a gorgeous museum space. We loved the Roaring 20’s exhibit, as shown in gorgeous period shoes.  The image below is The Narrows from the on-site cafe at The Rooms. We also love our new friends at “Tango On The Edge”, where we danced at two Practicas and took lessons in a private home.

Still, nothing was more unique and outstanding than the Johnson Geo Center, a huge geothermal building, built deeply under ground; one exhibition hall is faced by the oldest rocks on the planet.

Just slightly uphill is Signal Hill, where flag communication ruled until the first transatlantic wire was received by Marconi here, chosen because Ireland and St. John’s present the shortest distance between the two continents.

I love exhibits that remind me how inconsequential I am, how briefly humans have been around, how little time we have to live a life. Sand grains in clear columns reach from the exhibition hall 5 stories to the surface and further up to the top of the sculpture 26 feet high to show the age of the universe, one year for each grain. To its side stands an 8 ft. tall sand column representing the first life form on the earth. Finally a knee high, nearly empty, clear column with a handful of sand representing the years since our ancestors first “peopled” the earth, and to the side, a skeletal copy of “Lucy”, our oldest humanoid skeletal remains found in Africa. It is a mind tweek like the picture of the Milky Way, with a pointer to a dot way out on the edge, “You are here”. Our response: RUN! quickly back to the Rocket Bakery for a slice of the Chocolate Ganache Cake…a la mode, of course.

Charming, sophisticated, and tolerant, St. John’s feels like a pint-sized Santa Monica 40 years ago. They enjoyed celebrating with us the U.S. Supreme Court’s wisdom in protecting the civil rights of  ALL of our citizens. Canada has given same sex couples marital benefits for years. The population (100,000) is educated, predominantly middle class, disturbingly white, and happily, extremely respectful of pedestrians. However, the darker side of this lovely place is that real estate prices have skyrocketed, pushing students, the working poor, and fixed income elderly out of the city. We loved this gorgeous island and know we must return as we didn’t even do any get around to biking or kayaking.

With over 700 distinct breeding sites for seabirds in Newfoundland, our hikes were extraordinary. No need to jump a boat to see Gannet or Puffin colonies. Walk out a promontory at Cape Bonavista or Elliston to see 400 breeding pairs of Puffins only 50 feet away on their island aerie.

While you’re there, walk among 135 root cellars in town, making this the world root cellar capital. Nearby, fat and shaggy ponies wander among the sheep. Haven’t had enough whales yet? Take the ferry between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia to see pods of minke whales on the bow. Yep, we will be back…after we go everywhere else!

We have to saunter on to Halifax to celebrate Canada Day (July 1st…celebrated like our July 4th) with the Nova Scotia International Tatoo Parade , and a month “stop-over” in Halifax. We are looking forward to leaving the Roadtrek parked, as we house-share with a dog-friendly family, and enjoy the cooler summer weather…while the U.S. once again swelters in abnormally high summer heat. Happy Canada Day!

Although the East Coast of Newfoundland is named “Iceberg Alley”, the Bergs arrive later there so the island’s Iceberg Festival is always held at the most Northwestern tip of Newfoundland in the small town of St. Anthony (pronounced “ANN-tunny” without the H, in the Irish Tradition, just like the number “30” rhymes with dirty). You can see from the bird’s eye view in winter below, with Labrador on top separated from Newfoundland with pack ice. It is more likely that you could ski-doo between Labrador and Newfoundland in winter, as the ferry cannot use the shortest route between the two parts of the province for much of the year. We volunteered at the Festival and met the the local celebrities; the “Iceberg Hunters”. Featured in a 4 part series premiered on the Weather Channel in the U.S., this was the first public showing in Canada.

Two old farts and the “Greenhorn”, an adorable interior decorator son from St. John’s, harvested Bergie Bits to provide a local water bottler with “the purest water on earth”.  Actually, they spend a bucket of ammunition shooting holes in the biggest iceburgs hoping to create a crack, and a fall that breaks the big chunk into manageable bits to load on the boat.  These guys were just so funny, on and off camera, and always at the expense of the the earnest Greenhorn. Funny…unless you had to work for them. It reminded me of working for my father; my brother and I started at age 12 to find our own summer jobs to avoid such a fate. The Festival also had iceberg wine and champagne tastings, boat and ATV tours, Irish trad music and community dances, wild berry tastings like “Bakeapple”, and Viking saga storytelling by firelight in sod huts at L’Anse Au Meadows archeological site below.

Further south, in Flowers Cove, Thrombolites litter the shallow water. 3.5 billion year old “clots” of sedimentary material cemented by cyanobacteria A.K.A., blue-green algae. They are found only here and in Western Australia. They are a good indicator of the only life that existed on the planet in that epoch.

Away from the coast, the country is 95% bogs. Power and telephone wires can’t be anchored in a bog so there are built up “rock boxes” for added support all along the highways. There have been 636 auto/moose collisions so far this year, including 6 fatalities. In areas of high moose activity and fast highways with poor sight lines, there are motion detectors pointed toward the forest that flash warning lights 1/4 mile in each direction to warn of moose approaching the road.

Canada is rich with minerals and water. It makes for interesting politics. Quebec’s maps show Labrador within their province, but Labrador and Newfoundland are one province, and a rich one due to the minerals, ores, and hydroelectric power produced in Labrador and sold to New York. The folk music here reflects fierce independence from Quebec, and hardly a soul here speaks French.

Bogs birth bugs, and twice when we were stopped in provincial parks to empty our sewage tank, we have been swarmed by blackflies and mosquitoes. With hundreds of biting bugs inside the vehicle in the four minutes needed to dump, the ranger advised us to, “Open the windows and drive 120!”…we assumed he meant that in kilometers. It worked, but we may have abandoned the idea of a summer road trip to Alaska , the Yukon and the Northern Territories as we would be prisoners stuck inside the Roadtrek, hiding out. The forests across Newfoundland are mostly “Tuckamore”; fir and spruce trees, spindly, sparse, and with a shallow root system in the bogs; clearly at risk for blowing over in gale force winds if they were taller or leafier.  Similar to the trees, the residents adapt to the seasons too; there are many root vegetable gardens in small plots along the highways as seen above. Fenced to keep the moose out, wedged in the open space between the road and forest, the plots receive both windbreak and maximum sun in these long northern summer days, and the property belongs to the “Crown” so the residents own it. I just can’t imagine the California Highway Patrol getting down with highway gardeners.

Wouldn’t you know that Newfoundland is also the “Root Cellar Capital of the World” with 136 root cellars to visit in the small town of Elliston, in the East on the Bonavista Peninsula.

Gros Morne National Park features a hike on the earth’s mantle via trails over the Tablelands, and a boat tour of the “Fjords” on Western Brook Pond. Formed by glaciers, this was a true fjords until the delta was pushed up from continental thrust and bog took over creating a pond. The salt water was slowly replaced with fresh, and now it is so pure, it has insufficient ions to conduct electricity so the park pumps don’t work in it.

Although we saw humpback whales (small spouts and dominant splashy tails) from the shore in St. John’s (next blog, East Coast Newfoundland), our best sighting was a pod of Orcas, four adults and 2 calves that circled in front of us for 30 minutes while fishing for capelin in front of the Rose Blanche granite lighthouse, engineered by Robert Lewis Stevenson’s family. It helps that Orcas have a huge spout and dominant black dorsal fin as we could follow them out to sea for a long time as well. We are so used to whale watching in California where they are migrating so you see them for an instant. Here and in St. John, the whales stay in place and fill up on capelin in preparation for migration south at the end of summer.

 …and then there is the sweet, huge, and well-padded “Newfie”, symbol of winter, seen in an art exhibit at the Rooms in St. John, and as an ambassador for the island. This ten-month old puppy “Roland”, weighs 150 lb and attended his first competition last week, where he peed on the judge…Wow! I’ve wanted to do that a few times!

Leaving Cape Breton by ferry to Newfoundland, we crept up to Northern Newfoundland along the western shore, over 360 miles. This would be 7 hours of driving if you could go the posted speed, but that would be stupid and dangerous in a country with 100,000 moose. We saw 20 in one day, all within 20 feet of the highway, including two who trotted down the middle of the road for a bit. Taller than horses, and just as massive, they are a huge hazard. We ferried across the Strait of Belle Isle to journey up to Red Bay, Labrador, 90 miles north of Newfoundland. The icebergs from Greenland, drift from the North Atlantic Ocean through this Strait into the Gulf of St. Lawrence before melting. We are so far north and approaching the summer solstice that the sun does not set until 9:00 PM with no visible stars until the gorgeous sunsets end around 11 PM. The sky begins to lighten again at 4 AM. Get out those sleep masks!

Four icebergs called “Growlers” (icebergs as big as houses) and lots of “Bergie Bits” (iceberg detritus) greeted our ferry at the arrival dock, but we counted 21 growlers within view at one time while crossing the Strait of Belle Isle between Newfoundland and Labrador.  32 degree water, frequent thick fog, and cold winds kept these giants intact since breaking loose from Greenland over 2 years ago. Sometimes they carry unlucky polar bears who swim ashore in Labrador and Newfoundland. The landscape here is rugged, with lots of exposed rounded granite hills decorated with patches of snow above tree line at 1000 feet, with some heather, tundra-like plants, and the stunted, twisted forms of fir and spruce trees below….and lots of water. Lakes, creeks, bays and harbors are especially lovely during the aspenglow evenings, and especially with a little fog and an iceberg at many harbor entrances.

Most of the villages have populations under 300 with no government services or wifi. You can travel many miles between expensive gas stations/convenience stores which must meet locals’ needs. We have been asking the Labs how they survive financially, especially as the tourist season only starts on June 21st when Canadian schools close for summer holidays, and ends mid-August. Most available jobs (like fishing and tourism) are seasonal, so people work hard for 6 weeks, then….what? We learned that most people live the rest of the year off ‘The Dole’, government unemployment insurance, based on 6 weeks of seasonal work. Labs (like the fine retrieving hunting dogs from here) are family oriented and friendly. They live simply in small homes surrounded by HUGE stacks of firewood, boast that there is no crime and no one locks their homes or cars…except paranoid visitors like us, from “away”. We advised them to lock their doors while in the U.S.

We just wish there was a stronger impulse here in Labrador to create. With that much unstructured time available, why isn’t there established cottage industry? Painting, carving, pottery, music, textile arts, and preserving berries and other foraged foods, to name a few possibilities, but they are not evident here. Winter must feel brutally long with short, dark days, snow every day from December to April, and wicked winds. Then when the winds abate and the sun comes out, the black flies swarm. Locals admit they stay inside for the entire month of the swarm each summer. No wonder it is harder to meet the locals, hear any local music or even find a pub open right now…everybody’s hiding. Without a village pub, how else can we get to know you? The only music we have heard is pop or modern country music, nothing indigenous to Labrador. Very disappointing.

As welcoming as the residents are in Labrador, we don’t foresee returning here as the paved roads become gravel in only 60 miles, at Red Bay. Along the paved route though, there is lots of hiking, with iceberg views, the Pinware Provincial Park’s private and wind-protected campsites by the Strait and the River, and a wonderful National Park Museum, on review to become a UNESCO Heritage Site. It features the sub-marine archeological finds of the local Basque Whaling industry from 1500 to 1600. Each year Spain would send 30 galleon sailing ships here for the hunt, returning full of barrels of whale oil. Overfishing, and the requisition of the galleons for military use killed the industry. The Greenland Right Whale, more commonly known as the “Bowhead” for its prominent knob used to break ice for air holes, is making a comeback with over 5000 in existence now. They remain protected; only indigenous tribes are given permits to fish them for three short seasons each year, near Red Bay. To see more of Labrador, one must either catch a plane, wait a few months and catch a snowmobile ride, or drive a gravel road with local ferry support for 20 hours to get on a paved road again at Labrador City. We didn’t find Canada’s offer of a free satellite phone for use on this long, barren stretch, to be sufficiently motivating. As much as we would love to see some caribou herds, we like the ferry back to Newfoundland better…..

We loved this humorous message on a billboard on the Island, partly because we appreciated that it wasn’t in Gaelic. The more common sentiment, “C’EAD MILE FAILTE: A HUNDRED THOUSAND WELCOMES” reflects the warmth and down to earth culture on Cape Breton Island. As Gaelic is not a latin-based language, we needed every assistance possible as we never pronounced the Gaelic correctly on the first try. We often shared tables with lifelong residents who helped us patiently with pronunciation. We especially enjoyed eating dinner with the proud parents of these two lasses below who spontaneously danced for the crowd.

We visited the Gaelic College in St. Ann’s in the Highlands to learn about music, dance, and language classes. Steven learned that the Richardsons are a Gaelic clan and can wear the Buchanan tartan. Jeez, wouldn’t you know his  clan tartan was the most unattractive bright yellow plaid. Fortunately, he can also wear the Ogilbie blue and green tartan, featured above. I just wish he would don a kilt, so I can lift it up, and take a salacious peek!

The most important word we needed to know in Gaelic was “Ceilidh” (pronounced “KAY-lee”), meaning “Kitchen Party”.  Based on the tradition of music jams in residents’ kitchens welcoming all instruments and participants, now there are events open to the public and held in churches, pubs, and community centers several times a week in winter, and several times a day in summer. We got to six of these during two weeks on Cape Breton Island, planning our travel route and schedule to capture the best Ceilidhs on the Island. Mabou (pronounced MAB-uh) kept drawing us back, especially to the Red Shoe, a pub/bistro/Gaelic music venue founded by the famous Rankin sisters. We even joined a work crew for several hours in Mabou scouring the local community building, enjoying the residents, and their kindness, and earning an invitation to their community dinner and concert in four weeks. Some say small towns are nosy and gossipy, but we also came to understand it also means butting in to help people because small communities take care of their own. We got to know one very old, tiny man impaired with alcohol at every venue we went to, who would approach the musicians, but accidentally kick over their beer. The residents responded by asking him to sit with them. Very kind. It turns out he attends EVERY music event, and is in over one hundred you.tube videos, and people on the other side of the Island, all know him by name.

Humorously, some stages add a stove and kitchen curtains to the stage to honor the roots of this tradition. Most venues make space for dancers to move together for jigs, reels and square dances. We loved seeing all ages on the dance floor, often individuals stepping up to solo perform just moving with the joyous Gaelic spirit!

The music is very moving even if you don’t dance, and likely you will be pulled onto the floor for at least one dance by the friendly locals. We also found out how LOUD a bagpipe is indoors, as part of a fiddle, guitar, and piano quartet!

Even the famous fiddler, Rodney MacDonald (Premier of the Province of Nova Scotia 2006-2009..like a State Governor in the U.S.) was airborne dancing (below) with the fastest footwork on the Island…sometimes while playing a mean fiddle; he is so welcoming, a great Ambassador for Cape Breton Island as Rodney is also CEO of the Gaelic College. Some people make you feel like such a slacker, as we also found him housepainting at his RV and Cottages property, The Ceilidh Cottages, when he allowed us to come there to do laundry in an emergency.

What emergency you may ask? Lety found a dead seal on the beach, managed to eat buckets of decayed tissue, and then returned to the RoadTrek to vomit in three separate places. Nothing smells as hideous as dead seal puke. Really. Three washes did not remove the stench from our blanket, towel and seat cover. We tried to leave Lety outside after the first hurl, but in 5 minutes, the black flies bit her leaving over 30 painful hematomas on her belly! Anywhere on the Island during May, away from a stiff wind, brings a nasty onslaught of black flies…but only in May we are told, because of the forested, fern, and moss filled Island after a long winter of rain and snow. Lush, but it kept us from biking the Cabot Trail through the Highlands as we couldn’t stand the idea of a fly attack on a long, slow bike ascent, if  the wind stopped. Torture, I am sure as there would be no escape. Wimps? For sure, when it comes to biting bugs…

We are truly happy for the gusty, cool conditions, and the very kind residents who encourage us to sleep 20 feet from the water near their homes and businesses to avoid the worst of the bugs. Even the Mounties near Bras D’or Lake below, were so understanding; told us it was just a warning, but we might want to comply with Canadian law by making our rear license plate visible, and to get our expired California tags updated. Gulp! I somehow don’t think our California Highway Patrol would be so understanding to errant tourists.

Cape Breton Island is inviting in its warm welcome to small village life, talented Gaelic musicians, and endless highland and water views. There is no enticing big city, only boring and provincial Sydney, which offers Gaelic culture mostly on the days the cruise ships dock.

However near Sydney at Glace Bay, is a fabulous museum experience: The Ocean Deeps Colliery, a guided underground tour by former miners. Our guide, Abbie, was in the mines for 54 years, beginning at age 16 with his father and grandfather. The bituminous coal veins moves out from the shoreline 90 miles to Newfoundland, much of the first 6 miles interlaced with tunnels, up to 3500 feet under the ocean surface. The corporations took advantage of the miners, requiring them to buy their own equipment and blasting powder, and refusing to pay them for the 3 hour/day transport system to their “rooms” in the dark, their time building tunnels and blasting, only paying for each cart filled with coal. Then the corporation charged them for mud floor houses with one cold faucet, and their purchases at the company store. Few families had more than pennies leftover, even with several family members working 6 days a week. Every time the corporations lowered their payment for coal recovery, miners’ unions were formed, then crushed. Until the support of the United Mine Workers, USA intervened to stop physical assaults on miners and their family members, scab employees, and starvation caused by denying credit at the company store during strikes. However, the United Mineworkers at some point turned their backs on the Cape Breton miners, calling them Bolsheviks. When families were dying of starvation and freezing temperatures, Canada legislated the equivalent of a minimum wage. As fracking becomes an issue in the Atlantic Maritimes in Canada, we hope that these small communities are more effective at organizing to protect themselves from this jeopardy than were their ancestors on Cape Breton Island.

Now that’s a tongue twister..bet you can’t say it accurately three times really fast!

In spite of producing 30% of all Canadian potatoes, PEI, as this Canadian Maritime Province and Island is called, is probably best known for ‘Anne of Green Gables’, a novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery. We loved her fiery and loquacious orphan, and her stories based on the novelist’s own childhood on PEI.

Her cousins, the Campbells, have been stewarding the land for 7 generations and run a museum with aptly attired characters, raspberry cordials, and draft horses harnessed for carriage rides. I appreciated the offer of a full-time job driving the rig pulled by “Prince”, a Belgian draft horse, but decided to remain retired. Any future job offers will always be compared with this cool job.

We have been enjoying the serenity and friendliness of the Island experience. Waiting overnight for the ferry, one older neighbor let us sleep overnight in his yard, called ahead to a tiny village cafe to tell them we were heading over, and to set aside some chowder and pie for us. Sweet! We also enjoyed a local photography expedition featuring the community elders…aged 95-102. That gives all of us “youngsters” inspiration to stay the course!

We learned that the Island population is predominantly elderly, as younger residents move to Western Canada to find seasonal work in the fishing, timber, mining and gas/oil recovery, and then they don’t return. The tourism season on PEI is only 5 weeks (3 weeks in July and 2 in August).  The lobster fishing season is 8 weeks long, so the boats are pulled from the water and sit on potato farms for most of the year. Lobster Fisherman can only get $2.50/lb from distributors, and you can buy them on the side of the road for $5/lb. Although fuel and costs have increased in 30 years, the price of lobster has remained fixed. A strike by the fisherman last week did not change the cost, as lobster availability drives the price and this year is even more productive than usual, causing distributors to cap the yields from each fisherman to 500 lb./day. This view featuring a dry docked lobster boat, draft horses, set on the potato farm is ubiquitous on PEI as residents vary their work to meet the demands of the short seasons for each. Many tidy farms and homes are up for sale, especially in the North Cape.

We were happy to learn during our visit to the Canadian Potato Museum, that the potatoes from the Island are not genetically modified. Canada’s largest potato distributor was quick to refuse to purchase them, so most farmer’s quickly abandoned Monsanto Canada’s “New Leaf” program to eradicate the nasty Colorado Potato Beetle. The U.S. growers followed suit when McDonald’s refused to buy them. The potatoes are modified in seed form to defy the hungry beetle…only when Monsanto chemicals are applied. Monsanto has sneakily killed the Potato program, and switched instead to the “hidden industries” of soybeans, wheat, corn and rice. Now we will have to hunt for proof of Monsanto’s chemicals buried in our cereals, breads and tofu.

We appreciated that the Canadian Potato Museum on the Island, credits Thomas Jefferson with bringing French Fries to North America from his years living in France. What’s better for Democracy than non-Genetically Modified Starch?

 During a tour of Alcatraz Island Prison in San Francisco, the guide, a former prison guard on the Island, told us that the prisoners were intentionally fed a high starch diet as it made them too fat and complacent to fight with each other and attempt escape. On that theory, this cafe menu – including Potato Fudge! – at the PEI Potato Country Kitchen is a great step toward World Peace.

Gravitational pull, how I feel it as I pull my body up the ladder from the YMCA swimming pool, after the weightless freedom provided by swimming and floating. We can’t feel the moon’s gravitational pull so it is so exciting to see its’ effect in the massive tidal display in the Bay of Fundy, where the tide rises and falls by about 46 feet, depending on location, twice a day! Picture one hundred billion tons of water pouring in and out of a narrow bay. To put it in perspective, that is the amount comparable to the average 24-hour flow of ALL the rivers in the world. In Mocton’s Downtown Bore Park, near where we are stealth camping, a clock marks the next Tidal Bore, a one foot high wave that pushes upstream in the middle of the Petticochit River from the build-up of the flowing tide rushing in from the Bay. Too subtle for a good photo on my I-Pod camera, we opt instead for a day at Hopewell Rocks, in the Bay of Fundy.

Arriving at the lowest tide, around noon today, we have three hours to safely walk the exposed ocean bottom below the Hopewell Rocks, before the flowing tide drives us back up the cliffs to safety.

The rocks become small forested islands as all but their crowns are buried once again by the rising sea.

We are so tempted to come back to watch the reverse process as the sea ebbs, and 48 feet of rock and cliff become exposed once more. However, watching the tide flow up or down 6 feet in an hour is still just too meditative for our energy today, and the weather is just too cold and gusty.

Like flotsam or jetsam moved by tides, winds and currents, we’re not certain we will be here again, so we linger a bit by hiking the well maintained trails near the Hopewell Rocks, before testing New Brunswick’s reputation as the Lobster Capital of Canada with a boiled lobster dinner. What’s not to like about ANY food dipped in melted butter with a squeeze of lemon?

We know we are in Quebec because French is still the primary language. By the time we have driven 6 hours due east of Quebec City along the south side of the St. Lawrence River, we begin to question whether New Zealand might look just like this. Leaving the very well tended small farms of Eastern Quebec (no abandoned cars or junk anywhere), we began to pass below the Chic-Choc Mountains producing hundreds of creeks, rivers and piled snowdrifts. How can it be mid-May, on the coast, with whale and lighthouse sightings, right next to waterfalls tumbling off the cliffs into the sea?…hundreds of them! I stood in one spot and counted eleven waterfalls within view, from 40 to 120 feet high. Truly extraordinary, especially finding it on our own continent.

Furthermore, the small coves between the cliffs each have a strong cultural identification, be it Basque, Acadian, Loyalist, or Scottish Highlands. The food however was the same from cove to cove, represented by the small ‘Casse Croutes’ (snack shops), but all offering fresh seafood in addition to the usual french fries, as you would expect from a fishing community.

We are 6 weeks ahead of the summer tourist season which means the roads are empty, but the campgrounds are closed. I suppose that after 8 months of snow, Canadians do not want to take a summer vacation in the stuff, so they wait until July to open up their campgrounds. However, the Forillon National Park remained open and staff allowed us to park overnight for free in any parking lot, most with gorgeous views, and attached hiking and biking trails. The bad news is that the far more numerous Provincial Parks throughout the Canadian Maritimes are truly still closed for the next 4 weeks.

Can there be too much nature on a nature trail? Yes, if you have to delay your hike a dozen times to wait for black bear and numerous 30 lb. porcupines to decide when they are ready to share their hiking trails. They seemed to have no fear of humans, even accompanied by a leashed dog…so we waited patiently to proceed. Who knew porcupines climbed trees to eat tender buds?

The weather cancelled a hike planned for the International Appalachian Trail that passes through the the Gaspe Peninsula as well. But we caught a break from the rain, and hiked up to view the Perce Roche (featured image), an eroded limestone monument. Tomorrow we will enter the primarily English speaking Province of New Brunswick to get to the Bay of Fundy and the amazing tides.

Quebec A.K.A. Quebec City has a historic, “Old Quebec” portion which falls within the original city walls. Those walls, The Ramparts, are a world heritage site. Inside lies a charming small French village, full of charming restaurants and high end retail. We admired the beautiful Canadian artistry, unique style, and creativity, but the sticker shock was heart-grabbing. $300 for a pair of summer shorts made Steven nearly drop his artisan chocolates!

My attitude about fashion at this price, was more like this cleverly named store:

Some words work in all languages, Oui?  Exactly like ‘Chocolate’, Oui Oui!!  The most charming shop was Le Chocolaterie du Village, with a small chocolate museum and a collection of old chocolate molds…

…which was so delectable it made us ignore the prices.

Decisions to delay gratification…works better with clothing purchases than it does for sweets!

The turreted Hotel Frontenac sits over the top of the winding retail alleys and is visible from many viewpoints, always imposing, and always making one think of Europe.

Best of all, is the whimsical and perfectly crafted five story murals, competing with those we saw in Philadelphia, PA.

The Canadian deep respect for their indigenous people is evident in their sculpture and busts throughout the City. The Parliament Building has a dramatic sculpture of the First Citizens (featured image) that reminded me of Renoir’s Burghers of Calais, as it seemed to state the City’s purpose: welcome and educate visitors with the basic value of ‘inclusion’ and respect.

Similarly, Ghandi’s bust is prominently featured in the Park fronting the Parliament along with this sculpture showing modern women’s roots in the past, and our gratitude for those who fought the battles for the freedoms we have come to expect.

We come from the San Francisco Bay Area, and are not foreigners to really good croissants. In the Mission, Tartine Patisserie makes killer croissants…that nonetheless cannot beat those from “Boulangerie Monsieur Maisson” in Montreal.  No picture can capture the textured blend of “flake and pull”, and the buttery flavor. Is their a more perfect comfort food? Our neighborhood cafe in Montreal, ‘1880’ is across from the University of Quebec. We were so happy the 40,000 students were on Summer Break, as this place is mobbed otherwise.  Had Steven not had his croissant and espresso each morning as planned…well, that is just not a good way to start a summery day in France, or at least French Canada’s version thereof.

After all you have to get fueled to climb some hills to explore the neighborhoods and charms of Montreal and the St. Laurence River. Basilica Notre Dame is the largest Cathedral in Canada, and it is like a gothic stage set with creepy lighting, candles, and stained glass. Even the ceiling, the pipe organ and pulpits are just aflame with color. The architect converted to Catholicism so he could be buried under the Basilica.

There is a large artistic population in the City and gallery support of local arts. Most neighborhood cafes spun good tunes and had some quirky art, like this 800 spoon chandelier.

On these too warm  80 degree evenings (especially for Spring, and especially as there are still snow drifts in the Foothills outside of town), the residents turned out to dine and drink on the cobblestone streets of Rue St. Paul in Old Montreal. Had to pass on the “Montreal Poutine”. French fries, smothered with beef gravy and cheese curds may taste great, but it looks regurgitated. “Dog food” would be a kind description. We found great East Indian and Asian food, which should not surprise, as Montreal is a wonderful international mix of citizenry. However, we were shocked at the dominance of smokers just outside the entrance to every public building. Staying in a hotel across from a hospital, we watched as orderlies wheeled their patients out in wheelchairs, while the ambulatory patients rolled their hanging medication bags outside… for the all important toke of tobacco. Ironique, oui?

On the other hand we saw lots of bikers and runners on the waterfront trails, and urban dog walkers handling 20 dogs at a time. We found French Canadians to be very dog oriented; Lety got lots of attention. Que chien jolie! Lots of citizens were out enjoying sculpture and parks on these first sunny days, seemingly chatty and accepting of tourists, as long as we began every sentence with our memorized phrase, “Je suis desole que je ne parle pas Francais bien. Parlez vous Inglais ou Espanol?” It was a pleasure to see so many elegant women of all ages showing off summer frocks and fabulous sandals. Needless to say, I was not one of them…

Mostly a town of monumental architecture, high-end shopping, dining and wonderful outdoor sculpture pocket parks, we also saw the seamy side.  The junkies, gangs, and slovenly inebriated laying about on lawns strewn with needles in a downtown park where we walked Lety. It seemed as though being high in public is tolerated in Montreal, which surprised us after our border crossing experience. We must have met some drug mule, or terrorist profile, as they did a 25 minute long, very thorough search of the Roadtrek, even unrolling our aluminum foil(?), and scouring every little nook. The Canadian Border Authority employee never cracked a smile during the interview and the search, until he cleared us, then he became ‘tres charmante’, of course!

Within an hour of Montreal we camped (for free!) at a city park near this peaceful lake in Parc Gatineau.  On the way to Quebec we camped (free again! Viva Canada!) along the Riviere Nicolet in Victoriaville, enjoying Steven’s Birthday in this lovely small town.