After three months of bicycling, I left the US and entered Canada. This is a photo of the Consulate Building in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.
In my last post, I had arrived in Winchester, Virginia on my 1989 bike trek and decided I needed to make up for some lost time and give myself a break from bicycling by taking the Greyhound bus to Bangor, Maine.
I was lucky to find the Greyhound bus depot, a motel, and a bike shop all within a few blocks of each other in Winchester. The bicycle shop gave me a bike box, which I hauled back to my motel room. I recruited a trashcan newspaper to cover the floor. Motels have little tolerance for bicycle grease (understandably), and I had a bike to dismantle. Handlebars, pedals, seat, and front wheel had to come off.
While spreading the newspaper, a headline caught my attention. Zsa Zsa Gabor had been arrested for slapping a Beverly Hills motorcycle policeman who had stopped the 66-year-old in her $215,000 Rolls Royce. Apparently Jack, as in Jack Daniels, had been involved in the altercation.
I’ve traveled by Greyhound several times in my life, starting as a child. There was a local bus we had used a few times that connected Diamond Springs and Placerville (three miles away). The bus driver’s name was Pat, which I remember because I named a stray dog after him. The dog had been wandering our neighborhood for weeks, catching an occasional jack rabbit or ground squirrel for food. My mother had watched the stray grow thinner and thinner until one day she stopped the family’s well-used car, opened the door, and invited it home for a meal. Since the dog was part greyhound, I promptly named her after the bus driver. Pat was happy with the name, eternally grateful for her food bowl, and became my faithful companion for several years. I am not sure how the bus driver felt about his namesake.
I wish I had taken more notes about my bus trip from Virginia to Maine. Traveling by Greyhound is always an experience. But I was so happy for the break from peddling, I just sat back and watched the scenery fly by. Going uphill faster than five miles per hour seemed almost unreal. I do remember that I had a layover in Washington DC that I used to visit the National Art Gallery. I was lost for several hours among the Van Gogh’s, Picasso’s, Rembrandts, and Dali’s.
I also remember I had a four-hour layover in New York City from 1:00 a.m. to 5:00. Being in any Greyhound station in the middle of the night is memorable. Multiply that by 10 for downtown NYC. I watched in awe as homeless people, hookers, beggars, and, quite possibly, vampires, zombies, and an alien or two claimed the station as their own. I was careful to mind my own business and kept my gear within easy reach. Other than distributing ‘spare change,’ and passing on an offer from a scantily dressed lady, I was left alone to wonder about the nature of my fellow denizens of the night.
Morning found me on my way to Boston, Massachusetts through Connecticut and then through New Hampshire into Maine. Having stayed awake at the NYC bus station, I was in desperate need of a nap, but New England was far too interesting for sleep. Strong coffee helped keep my eyes open for most of the journey. Arriving in Bangor, Maine I quickly found a motel and slept for 12 hours.
New England has great scenery as demonstrated by this gently flowing stream…
And this dark beauty.
Houses, especially older ones, tend to be big. Imagine yourself cooped up with a large family over winter. These three structures are all connected and are part of the house.
I wonder how many Christmas cards over the years have featured a New England church like this one surrounded by snow and a small village.
A pond in Bangor provided me with a reflection shot.
I had been in Maine once before. In 1976, my first wife, Jo Ann, and I had taken a year off to travel through the South Pacific and Asia. But first we had bought a VW Camper Van and made a leisurely trip across the US with our Basset Hound, Socrates. My friend Morris had volunteered to keep the dog while we traveled overseas. After dropping Soc off with Morris and his wife Marianna, we had hung around for another week and backpacked on the Appalachian Trail in Maine. I wanted to make sure that Morris and the dog were compatible.
It had been a long week for us with 24/7 rain, muddy trails, black flies, mosquitoes and no-see-ums. It was much easier for Morris and Socrates. They had bonded instantly and apparently had a grand time. Upon our return from the backwoods, we had received a couple of wags from Soc before he returned to drooling over whatever treats Morris was offering him. Food had always been an important factor in determining the dog’s loyalty.
I had thought about Socrates when I woke up from my 12-hours of sleep in Bangor and put my bike back together. Shortly after breakfast, I was on Highway 1 making my way toward Bar Harbor, Maine and Acadia National Park. It was a short trip, hardly longer than 50 miles. I was there by early afternoon and settled into a campground.
You might wonder why I would feature this Dunkin’ Donuts sign I found outside of Bangor on the way to Bar Harbor. The reason is I never passed up a donut shop on my trip! I’d look like an elephant if I did that now.
I promised myself I would do absolutely nothing for a week while I waited for my friends Jean Snuggs and Lyndell Wilken who were going to bicycle around Nova Scotia with me. It almost worked— and would have except for two things. One, I had a responsibility to catch mosquitos with my hands and squash them before they landed on me and started to suck my blood. Given how numerous and hungry they were, I pursued this responsibility with passion.
Second, I discovered David Eddings’ series of five fantasy books on the Belgariad in a small bookshop a few miles from my camp. I’d picked up the first one and become hooked. I found I could hold a book in my left hand while squashing mosquitos with my right. Needless to say, the days passed quickly and soon Jean and Lyndell had arrived at my campsite, smiling and eager to catch the ferry to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, which we did. Since our goal was to bike the northern part of the Province, we took a bus into Halifax. The Canadian part of my bicycling adventure was about to begin.
The entry to the ferry terminal in Yarmouth.
Crab fishing is important off of Nova Scotia and there must be thousands of crab traps such as this in Yarmouth.
Peggy makes herself at home on furniture made out of crab traps next to a restaurant where we had dined on crab.
Yarmouth has done a good job of renovating historical buildings. This may be the fanciest Salvation Army Thrift Store I have ever seen. It is next to the Consulate building I featured at the beginning of the post.
More fun and colorful buildings in Yarmouth.
This mural featured a number of inhabitants in the town.
While my bike journey took us southeast toward Halifax, Peggy and I also explored the west coast of Nova Scotia along what is known as the Evangeline Trail. A number of impressive Catholic Churches reflect the French Acadian history of the area. The road, which travels along the Bay of Fundy, noted for its extreme tides, is well worth a side trip.
We found this mysterious ‘road less traveled’ along the Evangeline Trail.
And this impressive Catkin.
Back on track, following the coast south out of Yarmouth, we came on this unusual Anglican Church, which represented Nova Scotia’s English heritage for me.
A small lake near Halifax provided a sunset shot…
…And a late evening view, which is an appropriate place to end today’s post.
NEXT BLOG: Bicycling north from Halifax toward Cape Breton Island.
Wandering through Time and Place 
A great trip again. I would like to take a Greyhound bus around the US and Canada. I do remember catching a bus from Port Said to Cairo, but that was a long time ago and it was not a Greyhound.
Busses are definitely changing. Peggy took a Greyhound from here to Sacramento a few months back and it even came with Wi-Fi. We could blog from the bus now, Gerard. 🙂 –Curt
I’m selfishly happy to see a few posts featuring Canada. (Eh!)
Eh…! 🙂 There will be a bunch, Yvonne. –Curt
A great leg of the journey Curt. Really like the photos.
I had mixed feelings at the time, Andrew, not wanting to skip a section on my bike. But I knew then, and certainly now, that it was the right decision. And thanks. –Curt
magnifique… I love and I often miss Canada… ❤
Peggy and I wander across the border when ever we have an opportunity, Melanie. 🙂 Thanks. –Curt
Curt, I’m taken with all the beautiful wooden buildings and like you say they must look idyllic in the depth of winter. Also touched by the story of Pat (the dog not the driver!) and your loving mother rescuing him from starvation. Another interesting section of the trip with a well deserved David Eddings books break. I read these years ago and remember the time going quickly by but don’t recall them now (as is often the case!). 😀
The Eddings series seemed perfect for the moment. I was running low on cash again at the time, due to the scarcity of ATMs in 1989, but it didn’t stop me from spending what little I had left on books! 🙂 My mother had a soft spot for strays. We used to joke that people would dump animals near our house so she would take care of them. Preserving the heritage wrapped up in the older wooden structures is special. Fortunately, there is much more of that happening today. For so long, especially in America, there was a bulldoze it down and replace it philosophy. Much was lost. –Curt
The more I learn about Nova Scotia, the more interesting it becomes. Thanks, Curt.
I had been really impressed with Nova Scotia when I rode my bike through there, GP. My impression was reinforced by our road trip this spring. –Curt
Good to know, thanks.
Stunning images Curt.
Thanks Sylvia. –Curt
You make out-of-the-way-places sound like must-sees … and your artistic eye is the icing on the cake!
Thanks much, Dave. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere that i don’t find something that interests me or of beauty. –Curt
Yay you are in Canada! I have family in Nova Scotia so we have been there multiple times. Love it!
Wonderful part of the world by the look of things – the timber houses so colourful.
The Evangeline trail would be the draw for me. I must say, I like these wooden houses far more than what I saw recently from Martha’s Vineyard and the surrounding area. Too much gingerbread on a house, and too many decorative details, just doesn’t appeal like this simplicity does.
I’ve been in the Houston Greyhound terminal a couple of times, and honestly? It convinced me that I’d be taking my life in my hands to travel by bus. I’m not exactly a Nervous Nellie, but incoherent babbling and free-floating anger don’t make for a comfortable environment. Of course, I saw your comment up above about Peggy taking the bus. What’s true for high-density urban may not be true everywhere.
Okay, you’re only covering a small section of Maine in your post, but the photos compensate. Gorgeous pics. The sign Dunkin’ Donuts makes me smile since the chain is so predominantly present in New England and especially in Maine. Always a shock after the west coast where Starbucks is so implanted. I love the munchkins at DD!
Love also the colors of the houses in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. The Maine Yarmouth (near Portland) is also picture-like.
By the way cool name for your dog. Great choice.
I’ll be in Canada later in October. Montreal to be specific. Another great part of Northern America.
Happy adventures to you and Peggy.
That looks like a pleasant rest after a long journey. The surroundings are beautiful. Lovely photos. xo
Thanks Sabiscuit! It was. My break before I started bicycling the second 5,000 miles of my journey. 🙂 –Curt
Safe journey. Best wishes. xo
Thanks. 🙂
I can never sleep on buses or in cars because I’m always afraid I’ll miss something. Even when it’s a route I’ve taken dozens of times before. But especially when it’s someplace picturesque like New England.
I’ve long wanted to trek up to Nova Scotia. Your pictures convinced that it needs to be soon. How pretty!
I know the feeling! I can if I have been over the route before, however. 🙂 –Curt
I was really glad to get back to Nova Scotia. It’s a special place! 🙂 –Curt
Fascinating as always! I love your detours back into past memories that are somehow connected with your trip(s) – lots of fun to follow you and your mind on the road! I’m looking forward to the new scenery, too (not that the old stuff was bad!).
Thanks, Lex. I titled my blog “Journeys through Time and Place” as a way of capturing that particular element of my posts. Never know what memories my wandering will trigger but always sort of go with the flow… 🙂 –Curt
I never get tired of looking at photos of New England homes and churches. And you’re right — there’s no tellin’ how many of those little steepled beauties are on Christmas cards. Also fascinating in this post: the catkin and crab cages. Love this part of the country! –Rusha
Our son who was in Alaska flying helicopters for the Coast Guard has now been assigned to the work with cadets who want to fly at the Coast Guard Academy in Connecticut. I imagine that Peggy and I will be seeing a lot more of New England, Rusha. –Curt
Tough place to visit, Curt! 🙂
Our daughter-in-law was raving to me yesterday about all of the beautiful color! 🙂