Clouds to Die For

Just lost my first entry, saved it as itself, a blank slate.

Driving through thick fog the villages are nestled tightly into the changing terrain from farm land to rolling hills, our foothills, yet very heavily treed. A rainbow of color homes speckle the shore line of each town, with Pecher – Poisonerrie – being the main trade – fishing. Large crab and lobster crates line the docks along with men fixing their boat lines and oiling parts for their next voyage.

If this trip has done nothing else it has allowed us to see how easy we have it. Yes, driving in traffic, getting to the best Starbucks with our favorite barista are truly new era problems. Image landing on their shores with no way out, no roads to neighboring towns until the 1920’s. Think you feel sheltered man these folks ate a diet of primarily fish. I’m in heaven yet most of you beef loving trolls out there would die a slow and slim.

Having taught grade 5/6 History recounted how the French populated New France. The mode of seigniorial land tenure was semi -feudal of land distribution used. Landowners would be brought over with bright expectations of a great life. They would be obliged to build a church, school and a mill and pay a percentage of their profits back to their seignior. All land had to reach the water for transport of goods to other regions, therefore all land,even today is bought and sold in large rectangular strips. When grandsons inherit land they often don't build on it they try and sell it or cultivate it, because they have to pay tax on it. Them French.

We met Helene today, a hyper excited guide of Appalachian trail that we are trying to figure out whether to march up or not. The photos look like hiking up Moose Mountain, it is the one region of the large reserve that isn't forested and figures that where we are. With no choice to enter elsewhere as it exists miles back.

What saves us everyday is the glorious hospitality of the locals. Friendly and generous with their time, energy and historical tales. Today the mist and fog has rolled in and out giving  the lighthouses
a timeless age. Living inland my appreciation has grown immensely for those who fish. I for one don't have sea legs but they will be put to the test soon enough. The lobster season ended a week ago and as I told one fisherman, "We came all the way from Alberta to taste it." He gave us hope to search in the nearby towns.