Date: Fri, 14 Nov 1997 06:46:43 -0700 From: Charlie Ford To: type2@bigkitty.azaccess.com Subject: Vermont to Blacks Harbor, NB Well, I arrived at Tom Goody's home in Montpelier on last Wednesday. Tom and I had a great time together. We shared in some really good conversation and he told me of his plans to make a trip around North America next year. he is in the process of preparing his split window for the journey. One evening we sat and watched Jeperody on TV, and Tom answered most all of the questions as they came up. Another thing I noticed is that with each answer he would spill, he would always use "what is" in front of it. This is the one thing about the game show that I have never gotten the hang of. I always seem to just answer the question without the required tagline. I guess this means that I will never be able to get a slot on that show, but even if I did I would only end up making a fool of myself by pronouncing more wrong answers than right ones, then to top it all off the tagline, or lack there-of, would cost me even more money although the answer might be right. At any rate, I stayed at Tom's through Thursday night. While in town I went and picked up some new goods for my bus, one of which was a new TV, the other had gone bad. I also picked up some odds and ends like propane bottles and such for keeping warm while in the north country I was heading toward. Tom also gave me a Westy roof rack and it fit the Motherhsip just fine, it seems to give her a more "traveling" look. I pulled out from Tom's at around 6:00 AM on Friday morning, destination being Blacks Harbor in New Brunswick. It was there I would cross a portion of the Bay of Fundy into Grand Manan Island, where Jon Christensen's Mother lives. The Bay of Fundy has held a special fascination for me for many years. When I was in the third grade I had a teacher that told the class of this Bay with tides as high as any in the world. In fact the way she put it, they may very well be the highest. I said at that young age that one day I would see those tides, and now is my chance. Tom had showed me on the map where I could take Highway #2 all the way across into Bangor, Maine, where I would then pick up Highway #9, and that would drop me onto the famed Highway #1, and this road would drop me into Canada, crossing at Calais. I decided that this two lane highway would be the most scenic and most interesting so I followed the advice. The first part of the morning was so very nice. A light frost had fallen overnight and the sun reflecting off of the cold frozen moisture seemed to create a winter dreamland of sorts. The unmistakable beauty of northern Vermont was astounding enough, but now there was an icing on the cake, and that made it even more spectacular. Life is really nice in the morning. Gus, who had woke up and did his business while I got ready for travel had already retired back too the rack. Of course he had moved from his bed and into mine, I guess because it was warm, and had begun to snore so loudly I could hear him over the engine of the Mothership. I drove along, sipping a cup of coffee, and watched the beginning of one of the more "fine mornings" I have ever seen in my life. As I drove through the rolling countryside I couldn't help but think how many miles I had come to get to this place. I thought of so many folks, list members and others, that I had met along the way. Now I was approaching what will be my third corner of the journey. I actually grew a little sad. I entered New Hampshire and filled up with gas. The prices were reasonable, but not terribly low. I cleaned my windshield and headed on out. New Hampshire of course looks much like Vermont. A good tour would be these two states during the change of the leaves in Fall. of course the forest through here are filled with Birch, Beech, and Maple, and the ever present evergreen species of pine. The smells are magnificent to say the least. Right around Plainfield, Vermont Highway #2 gets a little more busy than it was from Montpelier. I got in behind a trucker that was traveling all the way over to Bangor (pronounced BANG-ORE by the natives). He was a good conversationalist with a lot to say about this region of the country. We tagged together along Highway #2 with him explaining all the while about the country we were passing through. As I pulled into one small town in New Hampshire the first thing I noticed was a cop pulling into a donut shop, of course as I passed he saw me and started to salivate, but the donut was just too appealing for him to come back from his appointed circular destination. The trucker and I eased on along doing the speed limit posted and talking on the radio. We passed through little villages and larger towns, all scattered with pick-up trucks and folks that come closest to being country in this region of the country. We passed the Boise-Cascade Paper Plant in Mumford, Maine. This large mill provides the paper products from Boise-Cascade to the world, and as usual, it also provides a very pungent odor to the area it is located in. I am actually accustomed to the paper mill smell, Georgia has quite a few mills down there. We drove on along and I eventually dropped off. I stopped at a little store a few miles into Maine and picked up some fresh donuts. I think the cop pulling into the shop may have swayed me toward the munches, well at least he performed some service today. The little villages of Maine are scattered with churches and houses all painted as white as white could be painted. The churches all have majestic steeples that seem to fit right into the post card mentality. The background for these structures are high ridges and massive stands of trees, that I am sure three weeks ago made a nice picture. I drove on toward Bangor, not in any hurry, just easing along at the posted speed limit of 50 miles per hour. When I arrived in Bangor I saw a Walmart, I am not sure if this is true, but I think it may be the northernmost Wally World in the USA. I went in and picked up the supplies I wasn't able to get at the Ames store in Vermont. While in the store I struck up a conversation with a guy that immediately recognized my accent as being one of southern. We stood and spoke about the part of the country I was in, and what type weather I could expect in Grand Manan. He explained that it was probably up in the air at this time of year. They were expecting the first big snow of the year and it would probably fall in the next couple of weeks so I needed to be prepared for that little dusting. he said that the first one usually yields about a foot or so, then it just builds from there. He also explained that on grand Manan I would probably see less snow, but some really low temperatures. As long as I have a place to plug in I would be fine, if not, I have plenty of propane and a good simple heater to use with it. I left the Wally World (Walmart) and proceeded on northward, still on Highway #2. The weather was great all the way, the blue sky was fine with a little wisp of clouds, all is looking fine for this segment of the journey. After passing through Bangor, I turned onto Highway #9. This lonely road will take you and drop you right at the border town of Calias. The one thing you see a lot of on this stretch of highway is 'not much'. You run past signs warning you that a moose might be crossing the road. I would certainly hate to run into one of those 8 foot beast. That might would take a chunk out of the old forehead there. I drove along at around 50 mph. Highway #9 after about 90 miles dropped me onto Highway #1. The loneliness of #9, and the darkness coming made me somewhat glad I had arrived once again in civilization. Somehow after an hour or two of desolation, neon lights look rather welcoming and somehow warm. Nine is truly a lonely highway, with not much more than a few other cars passing and most of them going in the other direction than the one I was traveling. I stopped at an Irving store in Calais and exchanged a little US money for Canadian bills to finance my Canadian adventure #3. I was standing at the counter explaining to the lady what I wanted and she did the business, the only problem is that when I asked her for fifty dollars exchange, she got in a hurry and out the hundred I gave her, she returned to me the fifty Canadian, but not the fifty American. I didn't notice at all and went on my way. I crossed the border and was once again searched by the border guards. They were fairly nice folks, but definitely had a more stern attitude than I had seen at any other crossings. I assumed that this border must be a busy one when it comes to trafficking. They did their business and I was once again on my way. I gave a big rebel yell as I entered in celebration of getting nearer to my destination, and the Bay of Fundy. I stopped at a local cafe and got me some supper, then eased on toward Blacks Harbor on Highway #1 in Canada. It was dark so I couldn't really do anything but drive and listen to the CB radio. I broke my am/fm radio antenna a few days ago so I couldn't get a station on it. In Canada, or at least in the eastern portion, the truckers use #1 on the CB. of course much of what you hear is in French, which I know absolutely none of, so I just listened. I drove along and eventually came to Blacks Harbor exit. I drove into the city about 8:00 PM. The stores in this small town were just about to close but I pulled into the first one I came to and asked about the ferry to Grand Manan. there were several teenagers gathered outside and as I pulled in they all gathered around my bus. As I exited the Mothership they all exclaimed "Man, nice van". One of them said that he had wanted one all his life, and one day he would own one. I told him to do it. The girl inside told me that I could camp at the ferry crossing area and no one would say anything. I eased down and prepared for bed. As I lay down I was sort of recounting the days events. No doubt it had been a long one and a lot of ground covered. As I lay back in my bunk, I got to the part about the money exchange. I then realized that the woman at the counter had not given me back the $50.00 American currency. I shot up in bed, broke camp, and headed back into town to make a call back to the store, back to Calais, back to America. needless to say $50.00 is a chunk of change I cannot afford to lose. I found one store open in town and explained my dilemma. The owner of the store heard my pain and worry, and told me to use his phone. I called and sure enough the lady remembered the transaction and said that she had the money right there. She would place it in an envelope and it would be waiting on me as I passed back through on my way south. Thank God for honest people, she could have easily pocketed the money and told me a lie. A fine lady she is, no doubt. The fellow at the store and I got to talking about my accent, and various other things. Finally I introduced myself and he told me his name. It is so ironic, but his name was KEN HOOPER. He is the Mayor of Blacks Harbor and is one helluva nice guy. I told him of our fine list administrator and that they shared the same name. He explained that he didn't know a damn thing about computers, but he was glad there was a Ken Hooper somewhere that did. I drove back down to the parking lot/campsite, and fell asleep. In the morning I would take the ferry to Grand Manan. I was finally at the Bay of Fundy, a destination I had longed for all my life. Gus was already asleep, and I was saying my prayers, thankful for safe passage, a good running Mothership, beautiful scenery, and honest people. Life was good. Thanks for tolerating the ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.slurpee.net/~keen/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"