Miramichi Pumped Up

A four way stop led me 50 ft. to Barry simply to ask for 2 locals. He was a recovering drug and alcoholic, and he laid it on. I got his life story in 11 minutes, then the history of the town in about 9.  I turned on the gas to give a hint, but I felt God saying, hold up, he’s got some yarn to tell you. God was in his 12 step plan along with his yearning for intelligence. “This is what crack addicts crave once they recover, knowledge, intellect and maybe a relationship. I am working with young men now that need my direction. Guidance I get from God." I was pumped up. Don't we do the same thing everyday at work.

The Canadian Country books found on coffee table are made in New Brunswick. I thought Quebec had beauty until I got lost on purpose and went inland away from the blue ocean, farmed oysters and cemeteries overlooking the inlets, dotted with cottages, vineyard, long grasses shading sand dunes,  blueberry farms and grey herrings.

No photos can do justice, to hues of mauve, pink and pumpkin cotton candy clouds softening the early evening sunlight. Undulating roads rising and falling 200 meters with barley, wheat and grass rolling down in  perfectly kept maintained farms to the shores of the river inlet coming from Bouctouche or heading upwards to the highlands in shades of iridescent lime. The cerulean waters rippling gently pulling the landscape to completion. I couldn't pull over there were no stores, no gas stations, my mind couldn't absorb the splendor. I was awestruck, spellbound and know Alice didn’t have it that good, in Wonderland.

Ever met a sucker, your reading her palms right now. A photo and a write up in N.B. magazine got me to Miramichi, the locals and back roads kept me there. Numerous small communities make up this wonder. I drove into Chathem this morning full of anticipation. The BMO was broken and the market I’d so anticipated with bountiful cornucopia of vegetables was 5 stalls strong and a young guitarist, still warming up at 11:00. I walked up and down the river looking for something, anything to hang onto because the 7 shops in town weren't rocking my boat. I crossed the river to Newcastle and met Jenny, a local walking home, who told me her history of the town in 25 minutes.

With a Timmy’s in hand she spoke of her childhood days when 5 mills worked the river, pointing 50 ft. from where we stood to the bridge that used to raise to allow the large ships to travel upstream 5 kilometers for lumber. The Finnish company that bought all the mills had no tolerance for disputes, when the workers went on strike in the 1990's, they dismantled all five mills within one year. Lumber and fisheries are infamous world over here for their progressive techniques of the time. We covered politics, education, economics, and problems with what we are doing with the Natives. We should have been in Charlottetown this week-end assisting the premiers. I ambled down to the historic park, made up of plaques and four shops, all veering on closure for the season. I returned to the Basilica twice, it was that magnificent and then visited all four Cathedral in all four quadrants. Sitting in each I felt the absolute power of God or the caffeine from my first coffee in a week. I couldn’t leave, there was something pulling me to climb another street.

There was Kate and Larry, almost waiting for my arrival, a couple married at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Nelson, one of the four towns, that made up Miramichu. He a nurse, she a teacher and their home, which overlooked 2 acres of cemetery leading down to the church. What the heck was I doing living in Calgary. How long would it be for me to realize, small town is my gig and the more French the better. They took me on an allegorical tour of their town, both growing up in different sectors. I felt so blessed to be listening to their narratives, this trip that began so poorly was turning into a historical rich venture, not even google could match this.

I left them and ventured to Douglastown and then to Nelson where I learned the local history.
Long prior to European settlement, the Miramichi region was home to members of the Mi'kmaq first nation. For the Mi'kmaq, Beaubears Island, at the junction of the Northwest and Main Southwest branches of the Miramichi River was a natural meeting point. The Miramichi became part of the French colony of Acadia, about 1648, Nicolas Deny, Sieur de Fronsac, established a fort and trading post, Fort Fronsac. In 1757 French general, Charles, Deschamps de Boishébert et de Raffetot brought hundreds of French refugees to establish a camp, on Beaubears Island and Wilson Point. The Expulsion of the Acadians. You can visit the island to view the history of the rich ship building that existed for centuries in the area. Perhaps this explains the Acadians fervency to preserve their heritage.

My mind was reaching its threshold, with enough energy to visit a winery en route home. 25 years ago I cycled through France picking grapes in Bordeaux for 2 season and meeting Francoise etc. Here was Serge, a duplicate, and his wife Denise Maury, a Frenchman and a local Acadian who met in Greece and lived part time in Bouctouche, N.B. and part time in France, and made wine from grapes, blueberries, strawberries and elderberries. It was like meeting an old friends, they poured, I drank, with conversations flowing from family affairs, to local life, their journey, the Acadian community, to living in the poorest province? If this was poor, they needed a reality check, most roads were smoother than a babies bottom and homes far larger than in Quebec, but that was earned under the table Serge said on the sly. This was feeling all to familiar to B.C. 

“Kathryn we have camping for customers that drink too much, they can dine with us and rest the night.” What a grand idea, as I took my sips gingerly knowing my bed was miles away. Cycling in France was magical for me, friends met me throughout Europe and we sought out “Camping a la Ferme” which translates to camping on a small farm. I sought out families that offered this experience, to become part of their appendage for a night or two. Within an hour the three of us had become friend. I sauntered through the vineyard with a glass in hand feeling so absolutely grand. They guaranteed me work on their farm if I ever needed a day of labor. They both have worked at the University agricultural sector and invite people to experience WOOFING - you work 4 hours a day for room and board and get the afternoons off. Okay Hal I think I found the job for the winter.