USA - sounds big as it looks

The Great Blue Heron that had evaded my lens was standing patiently as I drove by and pulled over. I decided to forgo the camera, just observe. I’ve never seen an animal move so smoothly, patiently choosing with poise each step, then piercing the ocean to capture its contents, a fish.

I left without waking with fog and clouds shrouding the light, it felt earlier than it was. Elsie saw me showering, I waved and then thought, how bazaar. Blinkers I just realized I left my nighty. The miles melted away once I’d found the route for St. John. Lush forests of red, auburn, yellow, orange, burgundy, saffron, and gold yelled for your attention in front of the evergreens, jealous as all get up. I wanted to pull over so many times, but cars, lack of curb appeal, and the running gauge and time kept me peddle to the meddle. My innards were shaken by the brilliance of their hues. They can’t be real, they aren’t real, and no photo can possibly do justice. A revolt should be held so all Canadians can take time off work in October to see these forests. We’ll follow the Chinese, take up the banner, I don’t know if Canadians can do it without rioting, 100,000 of us on parliament hill?

St. John’s was a luge ride, twisting, winding roads to enter its gates. Then a huge drop off with 3 cruise ships in harbor, along with barges, cruisers, and yachts on this grey day. Just when my eyes want to divert to the scenery the road zips up a steep incline and jets you back onto the freeway past mills and lumber yards.

I was surprised by the distance, from one end of New Brunswick to the other, by the time I hit the border I was done. My arse was killing me, the onslaught of questions was laughable, she was one bored customs officer, and the price of gas, 25 cents less a gallon 5 miles down the road but everyone comes across to fill up…I’d been had.

I can lump all the American’s together, professional to Dunkin Donut servers, munchkin’s. Love em all, they are simple folk, happy folk, and just down right pleasant to be around.

Thought I would relax on the coastal route like I’d done in Nova Scotia, then the miles, hours and exhaustion came on about 2:30. The coastal route which was covered in trees and no views of the ocean was wearing me out. I reached Bar Harbor with the other 2000 Yanks and couldn’t believe my time alone was truly done. Hal and I had spent virtually 2 months on deserted roads. This was my fear, concern, plight, consternation and angst, what to do with all them others.

I fought through the throngs in Bar Harbor and kept driving to the Acadia National Park at the bottom of the peninsula. “3 camps sites left” the blonde says calmly as he starts punching in numbers in the computer. I wanted to kiss him, my heart doesn’t skip a beat for the first time in an hour. I set up tent and want to sleep, but my backsides needs a rest so I walk, along the coast admiring what else… the trees.  

Now sitting in my car writing this ditty because darkness comes early, the bugs are still a pest even in the cold temperatures, there are no shelters, no showers, and as I look around the entire campsite looks like night bugs aglow, everyone is sitting reading in their netted tent or playing cards, few are having fires and everyone is in bed at 7:59. What am I to do, the battery is going to die. Off to bed to read yet another glorious chapter of Dermot Healy – Sudden Times – a must read for the Irish in all of us.