1976-1980s The River That Missed The Boat Part 3



Stewiacke to Maitland: This section borders on dangerous. Viewed in retrospect we probably had a measure of good luck on these trips. God looks after fools and drunks.

At full flood it's a deep and wide river, when the tide has receded it becomes a mass of mudbanks and unpredictable flows.

When the tide's rushing in, best be on the bank eating your sandwiches. Although the bore is usually little more than an inches high wave, once the tide's rushing in, things get wild and wooly.
There's a lot of water being pushed up the narrowing channel. Seems incredible, but the tidal rise in the Bay of Fundy can be as much as 30 feet.

When the ebb gets well underway the water pours over the mudbars producing standing waves that easily swamp a canoe. Still, we never lost anybody.

At the "confluence of two mighty rivers," i.e. Stewicke we'd 'put in'. Often we'd have Ken Swift with us for company in his home built kayak. We'd set off, usually with the Shubenacadie River at peace, i.e. just the river flow and the tide out. A couple of hundred yards and we'd leave the Stewiacke River and enter the Shuby.

(Here's a picture, taken at our 'put in point' in Stewiacke with the crew indicating "which way to go." All three of us a lot younger")

With the river flow quite fast, plus our paddling speed, progress was good.

The water was quite opaque with its heavy load of red/brown clay. High banked now and wide, the river has been cutting this channel for a very long time.

Little, if any, sign of human life. Red tailed hawks and bald eagles oft soaring above. The eagles nest in the trees high above the river and make a good living from fish. Lazy creatures of opportunity, the eagles catch the fish trapped by the ebbing waters.

Always a puzzle was what was the best course. Hard to see from so low down, where the stream led between the mudbanks. Sometimes we'd back track to reach the main flow; occasionally simply get out and carry over to find the flow.

Hard to imagine the river once being used for trade. With lumber being carried out and ships being built on the banks. Time rolls on.

In time someone would spot the railway bridge at SouthMaitland. Since then the tracks of the railway have been lifted and the bridge cut up and taken away. I can remember a maintenance train on the bridge once. That's all history now. All that remain are the support piers. Sad!

The Goss road bridge was built just upstream from the railway bridge during our canoeing years. I remember passing under it when literally half built, with one side cantilevered out from the bank. [A picture here of that impossible cantilever, photographed from the canoe.]

I suppose I could write many pages about the trips from Dartmouth to Maitland. How many times we did the journey in whole or in part I have no real idea, probably close to a dozen. The comapany varied. Mostly it was Martin and Mitch but on occasion it was a local doctor or PetePerry and, as above, Ken Swift often came along.

One memorable incident was our swamping, not far from the above bridges. The fast ebbing tide was making an impressive standing wave and as we passed through it the waves were higher than the canoe sides and we simply filled up quickly and sank. We climbed out to find ourselves in fast flowing water that was only calf deep. But the current was cutting the mud out from under us and we had to struggle up stream against the flow, 'on foot' to get time to empty the canoe. That done, we climbed back in and paddled off to catch up with sandwiches and camera in tupperware containers plus floating apples and anything else we could find. Looking back, it could have serious but that's the sort of thing we seemed to do with little thought in those days.

Having passed the SouthMaitland bridges the paddle to Maitland was quite long and arms and shoulders would be tired.

Finally we'd arrive. The W.H. Lawrence museum/house was our 'take out' point. Here were once built massive, wooden sailing ships in the heady days when Nova Scotia boasted a huge fleet of ships.

We'd crossed the province again!

2009 How Many Auto Mechanics To Change a Back Bumper?





Well we took the Aveo in in 2008 and 16 days later, in 2009, McPhee Pontiac called to say it was ready.



The cost (apart from Vivian's pride)? $500 Insurance Deductable + $1772.16 Repairs + $444.37 (car rental) = $2716.53.

A lot for a back bumper that essentially only fell off.



The moral of the story? Don't get your car damaged. Take an extra few minutes wherever you're going.



Anyway, we now have a better idea of why General Motors is in such a bad way. It's because they build cars like the Cobalt (see picture below). Really a Mustang wannabe - the American mentality of wanting big looking, powerful looking, macho cars.



So you sit with your ass all but on the road, making getting in and getting out so very awkward. A gutless engine coupled to an inadequate automatic transmission that seems forever to be struggling to change up, doubtless gobbling gas. Two (the little Aveo has four) huge, heavy, long doors that are a nightmare in a parking lot and, with the seat belts make getting into the back seats just miserable. Little headroom, my wispy hairs were forever rubbing on the roof. That huge, near-horizontal back window that collects snow by the ton. A car so wide that snow clearing and frost scraping are a pain (near impossible for wee folk). Oddly, cobalt is a blue colour - why was ours silver? Cobalt, an odd name when, in nuclear terms, a cobalt bomb is the so-called "dirty bomb".



Anyway - we were very glad to get our little Aveo back. Yes, I know there's a GM badge on it but it's Orientally designed and built; GM just stick their badge on it because bright people won't buy Cobalts!

1976-1980s The River That Missed the Boat Part 2



I'm writing this in three parts although, if memory serves, which it usually doesn't, the journey took at least four separate day to complete. Part 2 covers the journey from Enfield to Stewiacke.

To make blog writing easier I'm relying almost entirely on memory, no poring over journals, maps or photo albums. This sacrifices a little accuracy of course but it doesn't really detract from the stories and ......... well ....... what's wrong with a bit of laziness?


The Enfield - Stewiacke section was largely boring stuff; endless meandering river between fields, many of them poulated with cows or corn.


Enfield, just below the roadbridge carrying the Route 2 was the point we'd 'taken-out' at the end of Part 1 and of course this is where we 'put-in' again. A little way down was McClean's Brook which drained much of the land below the airport. We paddled a little way up it once and found turtles.

But ...... off downstream. Long ago there had been locks along this section I think, but no sign of them seems to exist today. Along "behind" Enfield but the town is virtually invisible from the river.

Elmsdale next. Again river and village seem to ignore each other. As you leave Elmsdale the Nine Mile River joins from the left. A little way up the Nine Mile the railway crosses it. That steel bridge is said to be the oldest railway bridge in Nova Scotia.

Next Lantz and Shaw's big brickworks to the left.

By now shoulders would be aching and backsides getting numb. No use of the sail along the river with its meandering course and sheltering banks. Cows, black and white were a common sight. They would stare down curiously at us. Travellers on the River were a rare sight I imagine. We never saw another boat on any of our trips. Only "mad dogs and Englishmen" seem to do this sort of thing.


Although a short description, this was a long slog on a hot day especially for the boys who came along with varying levels of enthusiasm I suspect - but come they did!


From Lantz to Milford was a long haul and usually, I think, Milford would be our next take-out point. The gypsum mine at Dutch Settlement was served by a road/railway bridge and just below this point the river became tidal. The water would change from dark and clear to muddy red. The valley of the Shubenacadie is 'all' red clay and the tidal river carries this clay all the time. must be a foggy world for fish.

Finally the road bridge between Milford and "Vinegar Hill" would come into sight and hopefully our car would be waiting.


The following 'days off'', the journey would continue. Tidal now, the Shuby would start widening. Meandering with numerous sand (clay really) bars. This section was planned to be done with the tide out, leaving a shallow river, flowing towards the Bay of Fundy to the north.


The town of Shubenacadie was next. A long paddle. Flowing in from the right before Shuby was the Gays River, soon after that, the little St. Andrews River. By then the Shubencadie had become a "real" river. Three bridges marked the town. The old road bridge (since lifted out leaving just the two piers), the 'new' Route 2 road bridge and the railway bridge, all in quick succession.


Now the long paddle to Stewiacke. The pig farm just past Shuby would sometimes "spill" effluant into the river. A dark brown slick on the surface of the water and a smell that beggars description were the result. The slick also covered the side of the canoe. And our legs if, as so often happened, we had to get out and backtrack when we went up a "wrong lead" between the 'sand' bars.

The river was by now wide and, of course, meandering so progress seemed slow but this is a lovely section of the river. The 'new' Route 102, a four-lane highway, crosses the river at one point, a reminder of how much things change over a relatively few years.

Then, Stewiacke looms. The Stewiacke River, no small flow itself, joins here and we would paddle a short way up for our pick up. As always, the car would be waiting and we'd haul out and load up.

See Part 3 for the exciting conclusion.

2009 The Carbon Monoxide Non Event .......................

The year was but 2 hrs old when we were awakened by a "beeping". I tried to answer the phone but there seemed to be nobody there. It wasn't the phone ... they don't beep. It was the carbon monoxide alarm just outside out bedroom door.

Hmmm? Why is that sounding? The oil furnace isn't running - the heat upstairs is turned right down. The oil fired water heater likely hasn't run since my shower. A check round showed nothing was on fire. Hmmm?

Move detector to bedroom and wait. 20 mins later off it went again. More head scratching. The label says it's 4 yrs old, but the life is supposedly 5 yrs. The label says a fault will be indicated by one beep - not four and fours are what it's sounding.

Vivian goes upstairs to find he "instruction manual" for the device. That gives no clue. Is CO heavier than air? Has the new sliding door to the train room made the bottom of the stairs into a 'well'?

So I phone the operator in search of advice. She gives me the 24 hour Emergency Service number.

I phone them, they advise we dress warmly and leave the house and await the 5th. Cavalry. I decide this isn't a true emergency and choose to disregard this advice - besides it's blowing a gale and snowing like mad - hyperthermia is not for me!

In commendably quick time two tall, yellow clad, helmeted lads arrive (one, complete with O2/air bottle on his back) in their big, all-lights-flashing, truck. Friendly and efficient they ask questions, we tell our story and they go to investigate.

Unfortunately their CO sampling device is on the Fritz so amid radio calls we await another truck. This arrives bringing two more, similarly clad lads plus a smaller guy with a stethoscope (no business for him I'm glad to say). The two trucks are now lighting up the neighbourhood in true festive fashion.

The new tester works and tells of zero CO. Off they all go amid 'Happy New Year' wishes.

Back to bed around four.

Memo to self: Friday, buy new CO detector.

(This is my 81st post. The blog is now over 2yrs old.)