We spent yesterday afternoon touring about the South Shore of Nova Scotia with our good friends Jay and Alana. Since we first met on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina over a decade ago real estate has figured significantly in our relationship. Yesterday we had an introduction to three properties owned by the them in the area of Chester and Mahone Bay.
The air this morning was cool. Overnight a hint of autumn had penetrated the atmosphere and revealed itself. Knowing that we hadn’t the need to undertake any particular duty I pondered the diverting prospect of an improving swim. It was shortly after 7:00 am. From the patio of the room I could see the steam rising from the pool below. The sunrise was just beginning.
We’re staying at the Oak Island Resort on the South Shore of Nova Scotia. It’s not far from Chester; and, as far as we know, nearby the future coastline home of our friends Jay and Alana and their beloved dogs Louie and Roy. The resort is old and woody, reminiscent of historic shoreline motels though more grand. We initiated our stay here by swimming in the outdoor pool overlooking the adjoining yacht harbour and rock pier.
I’ll not pretend to be unamused by the marvellous day we’ve had on Prince Edward Island. While we spent the morning travelling here from nearby Moncton, New Brunswick, the afternoon was cheerfully devoted to meandering along the charming roadways of the Island before settling at Rodd Crowbush Golf & Beach Resort (where we’re staying for the night) for a most satisfactory late summer luncheon at the Crow’s Nest Lounge. The front desk called a chap to drive us on a golf cart from the main clubhouse to the restaurant.
As was to be expected the drive across the bridge from the mainland was a vital introduction to Prince Edward Island. Within moments of gandering the approaching ocean vistas there was recognizable relief. A sign to Victoria by the Sea or a roadside retail of new potatoes or the sight of a coastal marshland – they each inspired an immediate and soothing response.
Recently I was intrigued to hear an account of the construction of a cedar split-rail fence. The narrative was rendered by a gentleman who combines the very agreeable attributes of a pedagogue and a farmer. There are few things I have ever pined to build; normally I content myself with the appreciation of what others have fabricated. But the traditional criss-cross wooden fences which ornament so many of the extraordinarily lovely farms in Lanark County have always captured my attention beyond mere artistry. Though I highly doubt I shall ever have occasion to engage in the construction of a fence it is at least a topic about which I am curious.
The unparalleled perplexity of EV charging has once again today topped our otherwise modest perambulation history. Though – after hugely frustrating disruption and annoyance – we were at last able to activate a charging session at our halfway point of travel earlier in the day, we learned (on a subsequent try further along at the end of our route) to our distress that we hadn’t mastered the skill. However with the assistance of a young woman (who with her bearded beau and puppy Bichon Frisé had just charged her own vehicle aside our own), we succeeded to capture the initiative of one of several Apps we fortunately had already activated (and – most importantly – had already added funds to the account). Using our App (and the underlying map) she instructed us how to find and select the exact pump then to begin the charging process.
Throughout this twisting chapter and challenge – but entirely unrelated to our immediate purpose, I saw a small commercial van advertising a window cleaning service. The metaphor of improving one’s view instantly overtook me. It invoked as well the universality of the application; that is, each of us – whatever our mode or direction – is faced with the need and possibility of renewal. While there may be an inarguable weight to the preservation of the status quo as well as the familiarity of all that we already know, there is a more fortifying alternative to be derived from embracing new steps though short and unsteady and sometimes upon gravelly paths.
At the end of the day – in spite of the intervening tumult – we have positioned ourselves exactly as planned. Tomorrow it’s Prince Edward Island! The redolent image of the island recalls another late summer adventure with my partner years ago. We had swirled about the island, touching upon isolated and pristine beaches, sometimes witnessing shuddered coastal wooden structures standing tall and tranquil still bleached by the summer’s sun and wind, recalling lonesome thoughts from nowhere.
Strangely perhaps it requires but a common – though far from ordinary – feature to distinguish a fine hotel from one that is passable. That distinction is the family touch – that feeling you get when you’re home again, reduced to the elemental but highly functional ingredients of practiced familiarity.
Our preference when going anywhere is to do so in relative calm which in this instance means avoiding signs such as those announcing Montréal Centre-Ville. This metaphor translated to driving along the southern boundary of the St. Lawrence River to escape modern urbanity.
We left Almonte at ten o’clock this morning en route to Vaudreuil-Dorion which we calculated to be a mere 2 hours away.
Vaudreuil-Dorion is a suburb of Greater Montreal, in the Montérégie region of southwestern Quebec, Canada. The result of the merger of two towns, Vaudreuil and Dorion.