Bay of Fundy, New Brunswick & Nova Scotia

Next, Bay of Fundy

August 30.  Yesterday was a rain and travel day.  Stayed at Baoutouche, lovely little town with wonderful old houses and gardens. 

On the road, we saw a sign “Veterans Highway” in English, and down below were the French words “Anciene Combatant Highway”.  I got the giggles calling Mike an “ancient combatant”!  Another French sign I loved was in the side of a church lot, “Point of Reassemblment”— obviously a meeting spot.

We made our way down towards the Bay of Fundy, which has the highest tide changes in the world — my destination for this trip.  Hopewell Rocks is the favorite tourist spot at the top of the Bay of Fundy with huge water-sculptured rocks and pillars.

Today high tide was about 12:30; we managed to get there about 12:45!  So we worked our way down the nearly 100 steps on the step tower, taking “before” pictures of the rocks sticking out of the water.  And back up those same steps.

Low tide was about 7PM.  After having lunch and a nap in the camper, we went back down about 4:30.  The tide was already out further than the base of the large rocks, and everyone was wandering around on the bottom of the sea.  The high tide mark on the rocks and shore was about 25 to 30 feet above us!  It was a bit surreal.   

Water at high tide at Hopewell Rocks, Bay of Fundy

Same view; low tide.

Walking on the sea bottom, 20-30 feet below high tide

Later, we drove out to Mary’s Point a few miles away to camp beside a marsh, which turned out to be the most glorious field of cattails I’ve ever seen.  There must have been 60 ACRES of them, tall and waving in the stiff breeze.  Absolutely NO birds, though.

In the morning we stopped at a muddy ditch where the tide was currently out.  Just bank-to-bank brown sticky mud.  Actually the entire bay is the color of chocolate powder stirred into water — VERY brown.  We began talking with two local men, who showed us salt greens they were gathering to cook with roasts, etc.

As we stood there chatting, the older man excitedly yelled, “Look!  Look!  The tidal bore is coming in!  See down there?”  And indeed, we were lucky enough to watch the tide riding in on a wave, known as a tidal bore!  It came up this sticky mud ditch quite quickly.  The delightful adventures we find on some of the back roads that we go on. . . . 

The lovely marsh with ACRES of cattails where we spent one night.

The tide is out on this waterway showing only mud ditches.

The ripple of water coming upstream is the tide coming in.
This is called a "tidal bore."

Today we drove all the way around to the other side of the bay, and camped across from where we were last night, but with this expansive view of the mud flat, since the tide again was out.   The water itself was nearly a half-mile or more out at this point, and this mud flat with little rivulets was between us and the receding water.

September 1.  We’re in Nova Scotia tonight.  Easy day to this camp beside the ocean.  It is the local hang-out out for beach bonfires and we’ve been visiting with the locals.  Today, our curiosity got the better of us, and Mike stopped, walked up to a farmhouse of a large farm and said, “I have a question of what you keep in your barns over the winter!”  The delightful young woman spent nearly an hour giving us a tour of their his-and-hers 100-milk cow operation.  

And what do they keep in their barns in the winter?  Their cattle.  While this made no sense of how one could keep dozens of cattle in a barn all winter, her explanation made sense.  Ten square feet are required for each cow if they are at-large.  If in individual stalls, less space is needed.

Nearly all the barns in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Quebec are huge.  Larger than I’ve ever seen.  They were built in the 19th century of wood, but as they entered the late 20th and the 21st century, they were upgraded rather than being torn down.  On modern farms the wood exteriors were covered with steel siding,  roofs strengthened, ventilators and automatic side windows installed, and a floor of grates with a 10-foot pit below for manure.  Then for the dairy farmers more mechanism was added:  automatic feeding with movable head gates going forward as the hay and silage is eaten over a period of days. Each cow wears a tracking collars that measures steps, (Yes!) , how much and how often she eats, and how frequently she lays down.   Automatic milking has progressed to the point that the cows themselves choose when to be milked!

Automatic brush for cow's hide!

The cows get treats when they go in the gates to be milked, so some enter as often as possible.  If the computer on her collars says it’s too soon, the gate in front of her opens and she walks out, trying again a bit later.  Our guide laughingly tells us of one good milk producer who has it figured out almost to the minute how often she can come back, and usually comes in for 5 milkings a day.  Yes, cows definitely have personalities; just ask anyone who has ever worked with them, closely.  

We then asked about the bale wrappers; the white plastic that one sees around the bales and how the machinery works to do it.  There are two methods, one in which the large round bales are wrapped into one long sausage; the other where they are wrapped into individual puffy white marshmallows.  It takes very complicated, sophisticated machinery to do this.

Our hostess's old Scottish homestead.

Mike and our lovely gracious guide.

Sausage bale wrapper

Typical dairy farm with winter's hay in white sausage rows.

The coastal roads of Nova Scotia are so lovely.  We like to get off the main roads which are tree-lines corridors.  They are great for covering miles quickly, but definitely not scenic.  Nova Scotia was settled by Scotsman, French Acadians, and a smattering of Irish.  

The different communities announce their heritage by their names and by their buildings.  The Scottish built huge, beautiful homes and barns.  The grounds are incredibly neat, including outbuildings and even the fields.  A profusion of flowers abound around the houses and the large mowed lawns.  

The French communities are a little more eclectic — smaller homes, many beautifully neat with many flowers; others not so much.  Small craft shops are sprinkled throughout thecommunity.  The architecture is different, somehow.

And the churches are wonderful— and numerous!  They range from the huge stone churches with white or silver-painted steeples piercing the sky, to small white charming, country churches in a tiny community of homes.  All were well-kept and lovely.  

There are so many photos I would love to take, but miss as they go past.  In New Brunswick, many homes are painted in deep-tone colors of darker blues, navy, greens, browns and reds, all with pristine white trim around windows, doors and eaves.  In Nova Scotia, many more homes are white with colorful trim.  A favorite was the coral house with pale yellow trim!

 I am publishing this 'as is', because every time I try to fix it, it just blows up and disappears.  So after 10-15 times of going round and round, I give up.

The Northumberland Shore borders the strait of the same name and supports fishing for lobster, crab and herring. The southern shore of that same peninsula borders the Bay of Fundy with it’s unique challenges of living and farming with a 52 foot (record) discrepancy between high and low tides.  First Nation ancestors have long been in this area. In addition to farming, they no doubt made their living by fishing and clamming, which is still popular here today. 

The homes are more modest here reminding one more of the Missouri/Arkansas Ozark area, some lovely; and a few rather decrepit.  But the people everywhere in these country communities are great.  Twice when we pulled to the side to take pictures, someone has stopped to see if we needed help.