Glaciers, Geysers and Falls Oh My

Hugi likes to sing karaoke. There are two bars offering karaoke in Reykjavik, both apparently woefully neglected when it comes to the quality of equipment, or so our guide now troubadour told us. So yes, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

We went. We sang.

Back to the sublime.

Friday promised to be a long day, Hugi having been up till then telling us that it normally went 12-14 hours. He wasn't lying. So a fairly early start of out the door by 8am was agreed to. We did well for ourselves and were already to go by about then, and Hugi did well for himself and had already been out and picked up two new folk, Tom and Marcy, who I have already introduced you to.

A caveat. The order of this might be a touch off, and as the boys are still asleep and we are now in London, I don't have anyone to verify my shoddy memory. Sure, you may not notice, but maybe you've done a similar tour and are wondering about why all the backtracking. If you are such a person, then a) comment, as I'd like to know, and b) my sincere apologies for inadvertently altering the space-time continuum.

First was a trip to Fingvellir National Park. I don't know if the Vikings who held their first parliament here in 930 AD knew it or not, but they set up shop overlooking the drift between the North American and Eurasian plates. And no, they likely didn't. Yep, what you're looking at is, in some odd little way I guess, not part of either continent. A neutral zone if you will, devoid of William Shatner and his shennanigans.

It made for a nice first walk for the day, though this lovely ramp down had me in a limp by the bottom. Gonna be a long one.

From Fingvellir we went on to Geysir park, where there are, as you might expect by the name, geysers. Before getting there though a quick note on my use of the letter "f" in Fingvellir. The actual letter that belongs there is called "thorn", one of those fun, older letters that you find in Icelandic, earlier forms of English, Gaelic I think, and lord knows where else, and when properly rendered looks like a capital "P" flying at half mast. It is transliterated as "th". So why have I been writing it as "F"? Because I am a tool.

Geysir park, as I am now about to unnecessarily explain for the second time, is a park full of geysers. There are several there, but currently only one is going off. Conveniently it erupts on a fairly decent schedule of every 5-6 minutes or so, so we stuck around and watched a few times. I, sadly, did not get a picture of an eruption, though I believe Jake did, so go bug him for it.

They're all steaming though, as they are very hot. Go figure. Water exploding out of the ground up to 70 metres high. Yes, it's going to be hot. They figure it's been active for at about 10,000 years, with the first recording of it (I assume not on a GoPro) in the 13th century.

The geysers are quite influenced by earthquake activity in the area, hence why only one is popping these days. The others have been blocked up somewhere beneath. One good rattle though and who knows, we may get the whole field spewing forth. I doubt the little ropes that keep you from getting to close will be of much use if that were to happen.

Next was on to Gullfoss, or Golden Waterfall. This waterfall comes in two drops, one of about 11 metres, followed by another of 21 metres, and flows into the river Hvita.

Did I mention the rain? Sorry about that.

Conveniently, you're able to get quite close near the top of these falls, at which point a few water droplets on the camera lense don't matter as much. Somehow though that didn't happen on this one, though you may see bits of my thumb print from having "dried" the lense.

Spending time close to these falls I found myself asking whether Niagara Falls would be more majestic if there wasn't so much human stuff built up all around it? Being from Toronto I've been to Niagara Falls many a time to show it off to visiting friends or family, or of course, to show the boys when they were young. So maybe they've lost their luster for me, or have become common, taken for granted. Certainly a horrible thing to say about one of the seven natural wonders of the world - depending of course which list you look at. Anyway, that's the question I am left pondering because these falls, and many of the ones we saw in Iceland, well, while some are taller, none are anywhere near as wide, but they pack a huge wallop when spending time with them, one much greater in my opinion than Niagara, and I think that has to do with the area around the falls remaining relatively untouched. At least, untouched when compared to Niagara.

With the visit to Gullfoss done we had now seen the "big three" that make up what, in the Icelandic tourism trade is called, The Golden Circle.

But wait, there was more!

There was Skogafoss, another gorgeous waterfall we got to visit.

There is a stairwell up the right side of Skogafoss that leads to an excellent lookout area. I actually skipped the up part as I knew the down was going to suck on my knee. This turned out for the best, for, as it so happens, the top of Skogafoss is the gateway to about 25km worth of hiking trails that lead you past many a more waterfall. I would likely still be there.

The next stop was, surprisingly enough, another waterfall. See, I told you there were alot.

Seljalandsfoss has the notoriety of being the one where Jake was heard utter "I want to touch a waterfall". Well, see the smaller fall on the left side of the below photo, that's where Jake touched it. Or rather, that is where it touched him.

How did he get there you may ask? Well, conveniently, you can walk behind these falls.

Okay, I am now really disappointed. I was about to start writing about a local legend about how a treasure chest of gold was hid behind these falls, and that it was once found, but when they tried to pull it out the ring broke off, so it's still there. I was pretty sure it was Seljalandsfoss and not Skogafoss (they are pretty close together) because you can walk behind Seljalandsfoss, so it just naturally follows.  So why am I disappointed? I'm disappointed because I went to look it up so I could keep my legend facts straight for everyone, and, reading through a few blogs I discovered plagarism. Yes, word for word descriptions of this chest of gold legend (attributed to Skogafoss by the way). Plagarism. On blogs. Seriously people, if you're writing a blog or travel site or anything really, don't you think your own words might be worth it? Or at least cite it properly. And there is this crazy new thing I hear you can do. You can make a LINK to other information on the internet. How is plagarism the right choice here?

Sorry. Pisses me off.

This is getting behind Seljalandsfoss. I've been constantly amazed by how green Iceland can be; how life clings and abounds on this rocky terrain. No exception here. And an excellent reminder of how important water is to life, no matter what Nestles may tell you.

Alrighty. Here's a good view of what Jake got himself into. It's the one on the right. He just walked out onto that bit of rock there and "touched" the waterfall. Thank you MEC for quick drying clothes.

All I can say is that I am very, very proud.

Next we went to the moon. I now take back everything I said earlier. Okay, maybe "take back" is the wrong term. I would just now like to say that yes, Iceland seems like a good place to practice for a moon walk.

An it just goes on, and on.

These are actually some of the many blacksand beaches along Icelands coast. Simon told me last night that the Canary Islands also have blacksand beaches and that that is where they tested the moon vehicles. Glad to see they spread it around.

Oh, and apparently the US crashlanded a plane on the moon.

 And if walking on the moon wasn't enough it was then time to go walk on a glacier. This shot is taken from the parking area. You can see the glacier off in the distance and some of us part way there. So no, not super far to walk. That said, fifteen years ago I would have been standing on the glacier from where I took this photo.

Global warming kinda sucks.

We did however manage to walk out a bit. While there were some slippery points much of where we were walking had enough dirt on it to provider purchase for our hiking shoes. Any further though and crampons would have been required.

The below is a fine example of the types of cracks in the glacier we were stepping over. They're nice as you can see hints of the blue ice that comes about from the extreme pressure this much weight creates. All in all, dirty things glaciers. But really awesome.

Looking at the map again I think this glacier is Myrdalsjokull, but unfortunately I cannot say for sure. Given its in the south, and we were in the south, it seems a reasonable guess on my part.

And yes, that's Noah and Jake walking along a ridge by the glacier. Not quite as nimble footed as Icelandic sheep, or ninja's for that matter, but they do a pretty good job of it.

Next was a set of cliffs and cave in and around Reynisdrangar. They have the notoriety of being where the recent film Noah starring Russell Crowe was filmed, but we won't hold that against them. Not that I've seen the film. I've just got this thing about Russell Crowe, and it ticks me off that someone so talented can be such a jerk, or so the media has lead me to believe, so I take it out in odd little ways. Why can't everyone be Neil Patrick Harris?

Anyway, as you can see it's a pretty good place to go for a lie down once you've drunk too much wine and want to get naked.

And it provides excellent shelter.

At least of course until the tides come in.

Now, I'm going to do something I didn't think I would do. I'm going to repost a picture, just so that it makes the following comparison nice and easy for all you viewers out there.

The first shot is of the Lutheran church Hallgrimskirkja in Reykjavik which I mentioned earlier. Notice the sides.

Now, these are the cliff walls.

Neat eh?

Our last stop was to try and see puffins. The boys and I did not see puffins, though others did when they wandered down to the beach.

We did however see this.

Now, this is not one of the trolls rocks that you may have heard about. We were in that area but, due to the all day rain fest, the visibility was about zero, so we didn't stop to just get wetter than we already were. That said, still gorgeous.

From there our merry band of eight headed back to Reykjavik.

The next day we got up and Hugi took us to the bus station where we dropped off our bags and then wandered around the city for a couple of hours. In the rain. I would not say that the boys and I were feeling overly inspired, hence the lack of photos and our arrival back at the bus station a very safe hour or so before the bus departed. We did however have a chance to walk along the docks, and chat with a fellow on a coast guard ship heading out the next day to patrol Greenland. Unfortunately they did not require any additional hands. Seriously. I asked. Just ask the guys.

Then it was off to the airport, and on to Tanya and Simon's in London, where I now sit, nice and refreshed, on Sunday morning in their lovely kitchen.

A couple of things to close off our trip to Iceland.

The first is a theme I've been going on about: being happy with the experiences had rather than being upset by those that don't. One of the things I had really been looking forward to doing was going to elf-spotting school. I think I wrote about this already. Anyway, it did not happen. The boys and I have no idea how to spot the places where the hidden folk continue to live. Being able to post a photo of my certificate proclaiming me a qualified elf spotter. Adding this to my CV. These are two things that I wish I could be doing right now that I can't as the schedule just did not allow for it. That said, amazing things were seen, and as the headmaster of the school emailed me last night about other options, I guess I'll just have to keep in touch and meet with him next time. Yes, there will be a next time.

The second is on couchsurfing. As this was our first experience with it I didn't know what to expect. I also want to be respectful to everyone I was with, so I will say the following. For the most part I very much enjoyed the experience, and enjoyed the people that I got to stay and travel with. I think as a bunch of strangers tossed together for a few days non-stop we did a good job of it. That said, when I was in university and moving out of residence I chose to live with one other person, and only one. Why? Because when it comes to relationships, where I am A,  I'm good with the A-B relationship, I'm good with the A-C relationship, but I struggle when there are issues with the B-C relationship.

That sort of thing did happen along the way. Noah and Jake were awesome about it. It didn't phase them and they hardly noticed it. Me on the other hand, less so. It was very difficult to keep myself out of it, and that, I think, is what I need to be doing. The core thing I do at work is facilitate, I'm not a fan of conflict, and I really like it when everyone is comfortable and getting their needs met. Not walking into the middle of a situation where that is not the case and trying to help sort it out is a hard thing for me to do, but likely the right choice to make given the year we have ahead. I guess we will see. And honestly, I'm not sure. What matters most I think is that the three of us feel safe and comfortable wherever we are, so I guess whatever I need to make that happen is the right thing for me to be doing. So maybe there isn't a "rule" to this one. Maybe it's taking each situation one at a time.

I have hopes for couchsurfing while in the UK, and have already received an invitation to go to the zoo from someone on the network. Another friend we just haven't met yet.

Simon is cracking eggs. Time for breakfast with the friends we've got.

TLC Lied to You

That is, if you're spending time in Iceland.

We've spent the last two days chasing waterfalls, or at least that is what it has felt like as Hugi has driven us and our intrepid band of heroes around his neighbourhood, and it seems like an excellent decision. Note that I use the term neighbourhood rather loosely.

The six of us spent Thursday hiking up Glymer, and then Friday we added two more to our party - Tom and Marcy - a couple originally from Minnesota who were returning from three years with the Peace Corp in Uganda. Tom worked in areas relating to economic development, and Mary is a nurse who spent her time helping to educate young nurses within the hospital setting. Not easy work, but listening to them, good work to be doing.

Like I said though, first was Thursday and hiking around Glymer. Pictures likely say it best.

First of course we had to get there, which meant:

Passing the mountain where Santa Claus lives.

Yes, Iceland also takes credit for being the true home of that jolly old elf, though apparently this story is not as popular as it once was.  Or at least that is what Hugi told us as w drove along.

Next was crossing a salmon river.

And then a look at the remains of what would have been old sheep pens.

No, that waterfall is not the one at Glymer. But it was certainly still worth exploring.

And exploring.

And posing? That's actually a different waterfall behind. And no, not Glymur. Some estimate the number of waterfalls, when you consider all shapes and sizes, rising into the thousands. Not surprising considering all the glacier run-off.

Getting to Glymur required a hike, first through the forested area leading up to it, including crossing the river created by the waterfall. Crossing was along several rocks in the rapids and a walk along a log, helped of course by a hand-dandy cable-line that has been installed to help hikers. Getting a bit past this allowed for our first views of the Glymur waterfall.

 As we continued the hike up we took occasional breaks, primarily to look around, but more so so that I could catch my breath. I am reminded of a time portaging with Marc and the boys in Algonquin, where, after we took several portages straight through, Marc and I had the sudden realization that we could actually stop and rest along the way. I'm not always the swiftest, but I do learn. So this time we took breaks.

Noah is looking out to the fjord that was formed by the same glacier that is responsible for this waterfall as it retreated further inland. We had driven around part of this fjord on our drive here.  Iceland has many bays and fjords. All seem to be referred to as fjords, but, as Noah's research discoverd, there is a difference. Fjords are created by retreating glaciers, and are generally quite long and slim. Bays, well, they're just bays, and don't have the same pedigree. And yes, for those of you who missed it, the boys do a little research now and again on the stuff we're seeing. The neat thing about this particular fjord is that it has a tunnel running underneath it for traffic. Yes, this is a modern tunnel that caused a bit of a controversy when first suggested. Apparently though Icelanders are just as prone to selecting convenience over scenic drives as the rest of us.

The funny little dots are sheep. They are far better climbers than we, and we saw these curious fellows on the other side of the gorge around the falls. Sheep get to roam free in Iceland, and apparently at the end of each month everyone is sent out to scour the land for them, and then bring them all together. The sheep have chips in their ears so are easily identifiable. Just a guess on my part, but it strikes me the next step would be to include GPS locators in the chips and then they could have an app for that.

Anyway, we eventually made it not to the top.

The top was a much longer way off, and we needed to start heading back. It actually looked like you could do it as a loop, up one side, across, and then down the other, as we could see people walking down the other side. We were not those people.

A few years ago I was out in BC visiting my friend Maureen in Vancouver. One fine sunny day she, I, and her friend Claudio decided to go to Grouse Mountain. Now, if you know Grouse Mountain, then you likely know of the Grouse Grind. If you don't, simply put, the Grouse Grind is a 2.9km "hike" up this mountain in the middle of Vancouver. Apparently there are good reasons to go west young man. Here are its stats if you are interested. The key one is that you go up about 800 metres or so.

Now, Maureen is in shape, and I mean, in shape. She trains, does triathalons, and that sort of thing. Claudio? Well I seem to recall Maureen mentioning that Claudio at one time was a professional kayaker. Yes, professional. Me? Ya, um... no.

Here's a tip for all you 40-somethings. When hiking up a mountain, don't let the triathelete and professional athelete set the pace. It's a big mistake. My right knee has been paying the price ever since. Up, not a problem. Down - serious limp, lots of pain. Not fun. Lasted for a few days. Never fully recovered despite exercises and the such.

Now, I thought that maybe I HAD fully recovered. Nope. Glymur has pointed out to me that I have not. Bring on the limp. It's already improving though, so please do not shed a tear on my behalf.

You know, I really was hoping to finish up writing about Iceland before heading to London, but as you'll see soon enough you cover alot of ground in two days when you're chasing waterfalls in Iceland, and we've a plane to catch for London now, and I need to finish my Skyr (it's yoghurt, but not) and porter before we board.

Yes, Icelandic porter. You didn't expect me not to mention the local beer, did you?

One Small Step...

Title credit goes to Sherri - thanks for your email. Whether intentional or not (and I'm guessing it was) it is rather apropros.

In 1967 Neil Armstrong and other astronauts came to Iceland to train for their moon landing. Having not been to the moon before I'll have to defer to the folk who made that decision on its appropriateness, but I will say, I am a bit curious if, after stepping out onto the surface, Mr. Armstrong went "Oh ya, I can see it."

If yesterday, our first day in Iceland, was to be considered Noah, Jake and my training for our first steps onto the moon, then the moon better be where Barbarella went and opened a spa after having saved the universe from Durand Durand (though, given the 80's - did she?, I ask you), else we will find it lacking, to the extreme.

Okay, I lie. It's the moon. Saying we would find it lacking is an amazingly dumbass thing to say. I say dumbass things. Many people will attest to that.

The word I uttered most yesterday was "wild". I haven't come up with a better word yet. Hopefully the people I'm with won't mind. Right, the people. We're with people.

We're couchsurfing in Reykjavik. I know I've mentioned this group before, so go look it up if you don't know who I'm talking about. We're staying with Hugi, a fun gentleman with an interesting history - his story to tell - and a flair for playing the harmonica overtop classic rock tunes. He's nailed Piano Man. Aside from the boys and I Hugi has two other guests staying with him right now: Barbara, a teacher from NYC, and Kareem, a primary school teacher from Paris. Everyone is on their own different adventure this summer, but here we all are, at Hugi's, getting to know each other and exploring this amazing country together with Hugi as our guide. Yes, aside from providing a place to sleep and wailing harmonica solos, Hugi is a tour guide, and he's showing us around. (He's the fella in yella if you followed that link.) Convenient eh? For all of us.

The kids and I arrived early yesterday morning, and took a bus from the airport into Reykjavik where Hugi picked us up. Barbara was already in the car. First stop was our new home for the nexy few days, and then it was off to the grocery store to pick up some food. After dropping off the food we then headed to pick up Kareem and now that we were six, it was time to start exploring Reykjavik.

Our first stop was Hallgrimskirkja, a Lutheran church named after the poet/clergyman Hallgrimur Peturssun, it was built between 1945 and 1986, and is just super darn cool.

After spending a bit of time there we then began a walk through the city, Hugi as our guide. It became quite apparent in a short period of time, that while the boys and I had the desire to be taking this walk, we were in fact quickly becoming zombies. This is fair given we didn't really sleep on the plane and we'd been up more than 24 hours by now. So Hugi took us home for a nap and then continued showing Barbara and Kareem about. I do not have pictures of either of those events.

We awoke three hours later, magically restored, and had a quick bite to eat (yay for having bought food). Hugi and the others arrived while we were doing that, and then we all headed out to The Blue Lagoon. And no, not a Brooke Shields marathon at a revival theatre. Something more like this:

And this:

The Blue Lagoon is, as Hugi's tells us, a bit of an accident. Behind it steams away one of Icelands many geothermal power plants. Iceland's use of fossil fuels by the way is a woppingly low 1% of their overall energy consumption needs. Everything else is renewable -either geothermal, or hydroelectric. Pretty neat. For it's complete origin story you can go here, but the very short version is that waste water from the geothermal plant started pooling outside of the plant, and that people, I assume hoping they would soon gain superpowers, started bathing in it. While no one started flying or smashing things, they did seem to get better skin. And voila, Blue Lagoon was born.

It's a pretty cool place, and also kinda expensive - which I understand is somewhat the norm for Iceland. But what do you expect, we're on a small island in the middle of the North Atlantic, that is attempting to join the EU, with tourism as it's number two industry and rising. Things are going to cost.

Wafting along through the warm, milky blue waters. Standing under a hot waterfall as the water pounds the tension out of your shoulders. Sitting in a sauna trying to remember how to breathe?

Totally worth it.

After a few relaxing hours there Hugi took the scenic route home. The "scenic route" is a secondary road that loops around back into Reykjavik. It was very expensive to build, and does not see alot of traffic, and we are all thankful to the tax payers of Iceland for their efforts.

Along the way we went to Seltun Krysuvik, a park that provides access to the geothermal field there and it's mud pots and hot springs.

The smell takes a bit of getting used to, but not much. Certainly easier than the pigs in Charlevoix, and the higher up you go (and we got up reasonably high) the fresher the air.

And you can get quite the view.

Oh, and there are horses frollicking in the field across from this "park".

These are the famous Icelandic horses. They are a shorter, heartier breed. And given their stature it may explain why we think the vikings were all giants. I've never actually seen horses at play before. But there they were, rolling around in the dirt, chasing each other. Maybe Icelandic horses are just more laid back than North America horses. Maybe this is true for the people too. More data required. Unfortunately though more data on the horses will not be immediately forthcoming, for, while there is ample opportunity to ride said horses, there is also a cost, and I am quickly realizing that if we do everything that looks cool and we are interested in doing, then we will be home by November.

Choices. Alway choices.

We then headed on by way of vista after gorgoues vista, each turn providing something else amazing to look at. If I were to include all the pictures the group of us took, the page  wouldn't load. If Hugi had stopped the car each time one of us thought it might be a good idea, we would still be out there. Life is about balance though, and I think we're doing pretty good with it so far. One nice thing I will say for travelling in a small group though is that it does afford the luxury of stopping alot more than if we were with a coach group.

And how many tours will take you to see the drying remains of fish carcasses? Ya? Ya? That's what WE did. And honestly, pretty cool. Just outside one of the towns we passed where there is a large fish freezing plant, there is an area where there are racks and racks of fish carcasses drying. Essentially once the fish is filleted the remains are hung to dry, and these, once prepared are sold various places around the world to be used in soups, as the bones are still rich in nutrients. So ya, pretty cool.

We eventually got home. Now the neat thing about couch surfing AND touring with Hugi, is that, to begin with, we're all similarly like-minded people, as we chose to join the network and try and see parts of the world through hanging out with the strangers who are just the friends we haven't met yet. So once we got home we all got busy making dinner, while Hugi got the tunes going, and pulled out his harmonica and played along. Soon enough some of us are singing along, and eventually we're sitting around the table, talking about the day, talking about the next day, sharing our personal stories, playing games, becoming friends.

Honestly, as amazing as Iceland is, the best part of yesterday was meeting Hugi, Kareem, and Barbara. I can only hope that this year continues the way our first day off the continent did.

Now we're off to hike up a waterfall.

Three Days!

That's for you Charles.

We're back in Toronto now. The kids are with their mom, Kate, and I am at my mom's. Have I mentioned my mom is awesome? Well, she is. For those of you who know her you know I am understating how great my mom is when I say she is awesome - especially if you're thinking about the actual eptomology of that word. Actually, I just looked it up again, and we're okay.

Right, this was meant to be a shorter post.

Let's try again.

We're back. We got up the next day in Truro, hopped in the car and drove to Rockport Maine, spent the night, got up, drove to Montreal, spent the night, got up, wandered around Montreal, drove, got to Toronto, dropped the boys off at their mom's, came to mine, did lots of laundry, slept.

There.  That was short.

But if I were to add a little flavour to that poorly constructed sentence...

From Truro we headed off to Rockport Maine. When first figuring out routes for the trip we  had decided to travel through the US a bit to get back rather, than essentially retracing our steps, and while we didn't know much about Rockport, it had two qualities we felt important. 1) It was about the right distance for a day of travel, and 2) it had, or was near, good food.  But I get ahead of myself.

The drive from Truro to Rockport had us travelling through New Brunswick and then into Maine. We could have taken the ferry from Nova Scotia to Maine, but honestly the cost and timing didn't seem worth it for us. It's great though that the ferry is back, as I understand that it had not run for a few years. Welcome back ferry. Maybe next time.

Sherri has, what I call anyway, "hunter eye". And that is hunTER eye, which is not to be confused with HuntLEY eye - that evangelical glint that has you picking up your phone and sending in the dollars. Late at night, driving along the road at some ridiculous speed, Sherri can spot a turtle along the roadside. Seriously.  Hunter eye. Ask her to tell you the story some time. Anyway, for someone with that level of skill spotting a sign that read "Unesco World Heritage Site" while driving the merry roads of Nova Scotia is mere childs play, and fortunately for us, that is the sign that Sherri spotted.

Goodie, world heritage site! These are cool. Whatever they may be. These are the places on our planet that the United Nations has basically decided are part of our collective heritage and require preserving. They may be natural sites, like the one I'm about to show you pictures of, or they may be human built places of some significance. Parts of Quebec City are designated a Unesco World Heritage Site for example. So yay us for getting two in on this trip.

A quick aside.

When figuring out this coming year and thinking about places we would go and things we would like to see, amazingly enough, I spent alot of time online. Okay, spent is incorrect. The tense is all screwed up. I spend alot of time online, as I'm constantly researching whatever is coming up next.

Aside from Google and of course Google Maps, the sites that I use the most are:

Lonely Planet - It's great to get an overview and "Top 10" lists for practically anywhere medium to biggish
Trip Advisor - When you want to double check with anyone who has done it that what you're thinking of doing is actually a decent idea
Rome2Rio - A great way to figure out how to get from pretty much any Point A to any Point B
Atlas Obscura - Just check it out, this site is so cool. If you're looking for things that are fascinating but don't make it onto the typical Top 10 list, then this is for you. Abadoned theme parks, crypts, odd little museums, you name it.
Unesco World Heritage Site - for reasons already stated

I figure between that lot I've got my bases covered. Yes, the first two are pretty common, and common is good for some things. I'm not sure how familiar you are with Rome2Rio, but honestly, check it out if not. Just for the user experience if nothing else. The last two - these ones are I think the two sites that will introduce us to many of most interesting places we will go in the coming year.

Okay, that wasn't so quick I guess.

I had not actually been doing my homework, so although it is a Unesco designated place I had no idea that the Joggins Fossil Cliffs existed, or that we were near them. Again, let's hear it for Hunter Eye.

You should follow the link I so considerately provided, but if you haven't (yet) then the short version is that the Joggins Fossil Cliffs are a massive palaeontological site that host a gazillion fossils from the Carboniferous period or "Age of Coal" Dahm! Dahm! Dahahahahahahaahahahahammmmm! See, told you. Follow the link.

These should explain it better.

That's the view. The park extends around that point. As this coast is part of the Fundy basin (or so I have been told) the tide along here drops about 11 metres between low and high tide. We got there about 11am. A sign had said the beach was closed at 9am, and the next tour was at 1pm, so we assumed we were well into the tide going out, but not at the ideal time. Unfortunately we could not wait for the tour, so while we walked about for an hour or so the water continued its retreat. I'd like to think we intimidated it, but I think it may have something to do with the moon.

Anyway, what all this meant is that we couldn't walk as far as we could have later in the day, but we did get along a fair way. Note though that if I turned around and took another picture, you'd see it stretching off to another point that the park extends beyond. It's big. Go read about it.

This is one of the gazillion fossils on display. And by "on display" I mean: Imaginge yourself playing Where's Waldo in the Uffizi Gallery, or perhaps a game of hide and seek with all of the art in the Louvre. The fossils are everywhere, and I mean everywhere. You feel guilty walking as you know that each little crunch of rock beneath your feet may spell doom for something that has been dead for over 300 million years. Oh, the guilt. So ya, they're everywhere, but it's up to you to look for them.

That's a tree sticking out of the rock. People here are pretty excited about this tree as it was discovered a couple of days prior to our arrival. Remember Arthur? Well, folk at Joggins like hurricanes as they tend to uncover new stuff. This tree was one of the things that Arthur uncovered for us. I don't how much of a silver lining that is mind you, but it's something.

That? That's just pretty.

Having had our fill of fossils we got on our merry way to Rockport. Why merry you may ask? Well, remember the whole satellite radio thing? Turns out they have a Broadway station, so we were now travelling on the wings of musical theatre. You think the 80's was chipper? It ain't got nothin' on show tunes. Unless of course that show tune is from Sweeney Todd. Dark? Very much so. Fun? Absolutely!

We got to Rockport and checked into our motel, and then headed back to Camden, which we had just passed through, to go for dinner and a bit of a walk about. Note that I'm not sure about where the lines get drawn between what is Rockport and what is Camden. Also note that there is a Rockland Maine as well, and I am constantly flipping the names, so my apologies for any confusion. Booking.com tells me the motel is in Rockport, so that's where we slept. The sign outside the town five minutes away said Camden, so that's where we walked and ate. Simple enough.

This is a view of the harbour from near The Atlantica, where we had dinner.

This is a view of the beer I had before dinner.

Both are exquisite in their own right.

Dinner was incredible. There are a couple of pictures of it that Marc took. I don't have them yet. Yes, I said email me your pictures when you get home, but somehow I think he decided to go to bed instead. And who can blame him? I will refrain from answering that.

Dinner was a bit of a splurge. Sure, the five of us all like good food. It's primarily how we socialize. When the boys and I are at Marc's in Kitchener, Sherri is quite often over, and much of the time is spent either in the kitchen preparing food, at the table devouring food, or in the kitchen cleaning up the disaster that resulted in making food. It's a vicious, or perhaps virtuous, circle. You decide.

The Atlantica was good food. And yes, we ate seafood. Oysters, scallops, wild shrimp, clams, and of course lobster - the king bug of the sea. Yes, on the east coast in the 40's and prior, and even today in some parts, kids would rather have bologne for their school lunch then a lobster roll, but for the rest of us - bring on the sea bug! Chalk it up to supply and demand. Anyway, dinner was magnificent.

The next day saw us bidding farewell to Camden/Rockport/Rockdale, or wherever we actually were, and heading north, up through Maine, into New Hampshire, and on to Canada, la belle province, and Montreal.

Now, in this particular case I had done some homework via Atlas Obscura, and had come across the Musical Wonder House in Wiscasset, Maine. Sadly it was closed, and had been since March 2014, according to the paper taped to its door. Lesson Learned: While discovering the existence of new places through secondary sources online, it is best to check with the primary source directly before going there. It wasn't much of a detour for us though, so not a biggy froma travel time loss perspective, but disappointing as it had looked real neat.

Driving up through Maine and into New Hampshire had us driving through Grafton Notch park, which afforded us the opportunity, to get out, take a bit of a walk to marked places like Moose Cave, and generally enjoy a, beautiful neck of the woods, both literarly and figuratively speaking.

See?

See??

See!?!

We eventually got ourselves back in the car and off to Montreal.

Now, the five of us have all been to Montreal at one time or another, and the evening there, and the next morning, were spent primarily walking around the old city, which we all much enjoy. Dinner was at a favourite restaurant of mine, Modavie, and was, as always, wonderful. Especially as it meant I got to see my friend Catherine, who works there, for the first time in a couple of years.

The next morning saw us, as I have already noted on Facebook, playing with science that the Science Centre by the water in Montreal.

There are some cool shots with full body bubbles, but Marc needs to wake up and send those to me first. The centre is very interactive, as can be seen by Marc building an arch and showing the true value of the keystone. He built a couple more of these as the morning progressed. Marc likes science. A lot.

After having a great deal of fun without endangering the nearby little children we piled into the car to make our way home, and fuelled by sugar in its many wonderful forms, including might I add musical theatre, we safely arrived in Toronto, which brings us back to the end of the second full paragraph of this entry.

Second last word goes to the science centre -  Stay tuned for:

See you in Reykjavik.

Kites, Coasts, and Coal

I think Philip said it best, when on Tuesday he commented "Well, we've broke the seal on Cape Breton".

Animal activists will be pleased to note that he was not referring to the animal, and, we did not come crack a little red disk of wax on some old document, forever breaking confederation in this country - lords knows it doesn't need any help. What Philip meant was that they'd now been living in Nova Scotia for nearly five years and in that time they had not come to Cape Breton. Heather's people, and in fact Heather herself are from Nova Scotia, and she came here many times growing up, but it's been awhile for either of them.

I would have to agree with them. The past couple of days has felt like a laid-back, high-speed (how's that for a cognitive dissonance) tour of, not what I would necessarily call the highlights of Cape Breton, but more of just the stuff we saw along the way.

When last we spoke our intrepid heroes had gotten as far as Mabou. It's now Thursday morning and we are in Truro, which is back on mainland Nova Scotia. In those two days we cut inland from Mabou to get to Baddeck, which is along the north shore of the Bras D'or lake, cutting the island nicely in two. It is both the beginning and end of the Cabot Trail, a very, very popular, must do scenic trail that takes you up and around one side of the island, through the provincial park. We did not take the Cabot trail.

Okay, now, before I start getting notes from folk who know this area that start with "WTF!?! Whadda ya mean you didn't do the trail!?!" I'd like to take a moment and go back to a previous blog entry about not being able to do everything, and how to enjoy the things that do happen as opposed to lament the things that do not.

This is one of those times.

For me too.

So we travelled.

We travelled into Baddeck and visited the Alexander Graham Bell Museum. I will not pause long to babble on about all that we learned here. According to a voice mail from my father my blogs are too long. This didn't stop him being pleased about him being mentioned a couple of times mind you. Okay, that said, maybe this is one of those times he would argue could be edited out. Ah well. That would require that I edit.

Right, Bell. Or should we say A.G. Bell, so as to distinguish them from a company that has no doubt given many of us no end of grief. Nope, we'll just stick with Bell.

If you want to know about Bell, his work, the museum, their work, then, as I repeatedly tell Noah and Jake, go look it up. There is too much. Way too much. Super cool things I learned though include Bell's lifelong work with the deaf and his attempts to provide them with better support and tools so that they could integrate better with the rest of society. Did you know that Helen Kellar visited him in his home, Beinn Bhreagh, Baddeck? Did you even know that the inventor of the telephone had a home in Cape Breton? Or that he invited Marconi, or "Mr. Radio" as I now like to call him, to come and continue his experiments in Cape Breton? Okay, I only just called him Mr. Radio now as it was a quick way to address the whole trans-atlantic radio signal for the first time thingy.

How about hydrofoils? How about planes? And kites. So many kites.

That's Noah and Jake flying kites at the museum. Yes, you get to fly kites if you want. And it's an excellent location for it.

Did you know Bell tried, as part of efforts to save him, to eletrically try and find the bullet lodged in James Garfield's body when he was assassinated? He wasn't successful, but still, to my mind anyway, fascinating.

I'll stop about Bell now. Just go.

We then headed for Sydney, by way of St Anns.

We stopped in Syndey long enough to check our luggage in at our hotel, and then continued our travels up and along the coast through Waterford, Dominion, and Glace Bay.

Along the way to Waterford is Fort Petrie, one of the forts built during the First World War to protect Sydney harbour, and then enhanced in WW II. I'm not sure how the museum works, if it is just open air come as you are and look around, or if there are actual tours of some kind. There didn't seem to be anyone official there at the time so we just looked about.

Now the funny thing about looking about by yourself is where you end up.

That is the entrance to the bunkers at Fort Petrie. See the long grey thing at the top of the picture? That's the door. Its on rails and slides across the opening. It was closed. Mind you, it wasn't locked, so we opened it and explored a little. This was an excellent reminder to next time bring my daypack and include the mini flashlight. Cellphone flashlights just don't seem to be enough. Funny that, something a phone doesn't do well yet.

Below we found this level.

And below that we found this level.

From here we went on to Dominion by way of Waterford. We didn't stop in either of these towns; this was a simple drive-through. We did however stop at Dominion beach for a bit of play in the waves.

Here's the five of us. I don't think there has been a picture of me in the blog yet, so here you go. I'm the one in the middle. I'm sure you recognize the others by now though. An no, Marc does not have ears like Shrek, he is wearing a hat.

From Dominion we headed on to Glace Bay. Now, this is where it gets exciting, for me at least anyway.

See, of all the places in Nova Scotia that I have wanted to visit, Glace Bay is by and far the number one destination. Why, you might ask? What's that old town got that any other mining town in Nova Scotia doesn't have? Does it have to do with that Mr. Radio fella mentioned earlier, because he sent his first trans-atlantic signal from Table Head?

As you can see its gorgeous, but no, nothing to do with Marconi. I had no idea about that till the day prior when I was looking some stuff up on Trip Advisor.

Is it the Miner's Museum? Nope, but loads more on that later.

It's because of Margaret's Museum, a film starring Helena Bonham Carter and Clive Russell that I saw when it came out in 1995 and immediately fell in love with. It is based upon a novel by Sheldon Currie titled The Glace Bay Miner's Museum, which you guessed it, takes place in Glace Bay. I've read this book many, many times. I've read the stage play by Wendy Lill a number of times as well, and equally love it, though I haven't had the good fortune to see a production yet. In 1996 I actually tried getting my hands on a copy of the screen play. I mean, I love this story.

I won't explain the story here; that's why I provided you all with the link to IMDB. I will say though that the story is exactly the type of story that I like the best, and that the music in the film, as done by the Rankin family, (you may recall them being mentioned re: The Red Shoe Pub) can be heart-wrenching at times. So, my kind of music.

It left an impression.

Anyway, we drove around Glace Bay for a bit, myself getting excited when we saw the old "company houses". These are houses built by the mining companies for the miners to live in. You would think that was just grand. Well, in a way. But it also meant you lived in house owned by your boss. See how that could get complicated?

We then headed back to Sydney for dinner and a quiet evening.

The next day we were up and back out to Glace Bay again to visit The Cape Breton Miners' Museum. This, unlike The Glace Bay Miner's Museum, is an actual place that first opened, in part to mark Canada's centennial, in 1967. We knew about the museum before coming. Spending whatever time was necessary here was pretty much part of the plan since deciding to come out east.

The museum is great. It tells the story, as you would expect, of the history of mining in Cape Breton. From the first discoveries of coal over 250 years ago, to the Nova Scotia government giving a 99 year on all coal mining to The Dominion Coal company, and all the terribleness that that wrought, to the mines being expropriated by the Canadian government in 1967, to the last coal mine closing in Cape Breton in 2001. It tells the story about the miners of Cape Breton. It tells the story well.

Aside from the exhibit, and the outdoor "town" where you can visit a recreation of a "company store" amongst other things, the museum features a film that I'm pretty sure dates back to the seventies, that tells the history of coal mining and its people, and interviews several of the older, retired miners, at the time. Yes, from time to time you'll wish the film came with sub-titles, but what-the-heck.

The other thing that is featured is a tour of the mine. There is a mine beneath the museum. It was never a working mine, as it was actually built as part of the museum in 1967. So you get to walk down about 80 meters, not 800. And you get to stay "on land" (or at least under it) as opposed to most of the mines extracting coal from the Sydney coal fields which stretch out under the water out to Newfoundland/Labrador.

Totally authentic? Pretty much. Totally awesomely cool? Yes.

Here's the entrance.

The mine is a traditional room and pillar mine. The ceiling height starts at about 6' 5", and then gets lower, eventually to about four foot nothin'.

Our guide through the above was Abbie, a retired coal miner, and a great story teller. True stories. Some are the history of mining, some are the basics of coal. Mostly though, the stories are of the miners and their families. Of what it was to live that life. Of the hardship of the work, and the working conditions, and of the hardship of the living conditions that Cape Breton miners lived under because of the well below poverty level wages forced upon them by the Dominion Coal Company, BESCO, and those that came after.

I knew much of this history coming into it. It's a totally different hearing it from Abbie. Abbie is 76. He lived much of this story, and his father, grandfather, and six uncles lived it too. I won't even attempt to tell it. I will say though that I have no idea what "work" really is, or what "hardship" really means. I've been very fortunate to have lived comfortably my entire life. And I get to use my head for work, so it's essentially play-time, as I like using my head. Have there been things that I've wanted that I couldn't get? For sure. Have there been things that I actually need to live that I haven't had? Never. That this was the case for people living in Cape Breton through easily the first half of the 20th century I find phenomenally wrong. I have a difficult time comprehending it. Perhaps I am naive.

This museum tells a story that really, really matters.  Go.

After the museum we continued our journey with the next stop being Louisburg Fort, just for a quick looksee.

Along the way another beach, which provided the opportunity for Noah to beat me in a foot race. We've not raced in a long time, and I, having being putting it off in order to not lose my alpha-male dominance of the pack status, realized it was time to get on with it. (Note that those are not us in the distance, but those tracks are ours.)

Now, Jake will be nice and say that it was pretty close for awhile. I will be honest and say that Noah had me from the start. That guy can run. I've not seen him run as fast as this, ever. Maybe he was spurred on by the opportunity to kick his Dad's butt. All I I know is that it was fantastic to watch him go and clean my clock. I am just grateful that he did not strike a Usain Bolt pose at the end of it all.

We got to the fort. It was closing. Ah well, not the only time this sort of thing will happen on this trip I am sure. Another reason to come back again, as if we actually need a reason.

It was at this point though that we said farewell to Heather and Meara, Philip having left earlier in the day to catch a flight to Montreal for work.

We drove.

We drove back through Cape Breton to the causeway onto mainland Nova Scotia; the same bridge we had crossed to come onto the island, but now with a chance to get a shot of this, which I couldn't do the first time because I cannot rotate my head like Linda Blair. Nor can I walk upside down like a spider, but that is besides the point. See, right besides it in fact.

We drove on through into the evening and arrived in Truro, our end point for the day, and our launch pad for heading back home to Toronto.

Thank you Cape Breton, I'll be seeing you again soon.