We Made Our Escape!

I'm pretty sure I just escaped from the Confederacy.  In the case of Canada, the Confederacy is called 'Quebec'.  It's going to be a struggle to express the level of rising frustration both Drake and I have experienced over the past two weeks.  We've spent this time in a place where the people consider themselves simultaneously to be victims and also superior.  Last time I checked, Canada was an English speaking country.  It became one in 1760 when the English militarily kicked the French government out of North America.  They graciously allowed the French Canadiens. who were living in Quebec to stay, to continue speaking French, to continue to be Catholic, and to run their legal affairs as if nothing much had changed.  Big mistake.  Really big mistake. Note to self:  No good deed goes unpunished.

Fast forward 255 years and visit Quebec today.  The residents behave as if they are not part of the rest of the country.  They stubbornly cling to outmoded, outdated ways of thinking in the 21st century, and they are proud of it!  They expect the rest of the country to be bilingual and accommodating to the French language, but this consideration is certainly not reciprocated.  The Quebec provincial government is uber protective of fostering the use of French language and only the French language inside the province and especially in the schools.  English is 'nominally' taught in French schools, but our experience has been almost none of the young people we have encountered here can speak English. The older people who learned English before the Draconian 'French only laws' went into place speak rusty English.  Why is this a problem?

First, it's isolating.  If you are a 22 year old Quebecian who has gone through the school system and NOT learned English, where can you go?  France?  You certainly can't find a job in the rest of Canada - life there is in the English language.  All of Canada, with the exception of Newfoundland/Laborador because of their oil and gas production, is suffering from lack labor productivity.  Labor productivity in Canada is one-half of that in the United States.  Quebec has certainly led the way in swirling red tape and 'rules' not only around the school system, but also around their labor force.  Even without the language barrier, it's very, very difficult for the skilled work force of Quebec to move between the provinces.  While the states in the USA have different certifications and state tests for certain professions, there is very little which keeps most of the United States work force from being mobile.

Surprisingly, after 250 years, there's still a sense here among the people of having been 'conquered'. They still think they are victims.  Their attitude toward the rest of the Canada is: 'You defeated us, but we aren't taking it laying down, and you can't make us become a part of YOU! (English Canada).   If you do, we'll secede from the country.' It's that attitude which reminds me of the Southerners after the Civil War.  After the loss of that war, the white Southern upper class glorified the Confederacy, cemented institutional racism in place, romanticized the entire war along with their roles in it, and set their region back 150 years.

That mentality is exactly what has happened in Quebec since the 1970's.  It's an ingrown society from top to bottom being governed by the French first, French only, French forever being institutionalized by the separatist leaning government.   It seems stagnant here, and I can only assume it's hard for new ideas to percolate - and if they aren't in French, they are instantly unacceptable.  Add to the hidebound attitudes an overbearing Catholic church which is only slightly separated from the state and which controlled the culture and mores.  About 45 years ago, the Catholic Church had this province in an iron death grip, and even after the power Catholicism wielded has faded, there still resentment on both sides.  

There's always a certain level of frustration living our lifestyle - always moving in someplace or moving out.  Always getting lost or having to retrace our steps because we 'missed' the crucial turn.  We are always looking for good gas, supermarkets, post offices, and car washes - to name a few of the mundane.  The exotic is often even more difficult to find.  Add French signage to these problems, and it's easy to see my steaming gasket.  I've only blown up once, and it was over something minor.  My temper tantrum was representative of the problems we've encountered struggling to find places, and running headlong into 17th and even 16th century thinking. I've felt like I've been constantly seething with the frustration and anger of having to put up with it.

Yes, this place is beautiful.  Yes, there's some amazing architecture.  Yes, the food is tasty, but in my opinion, it's not worth the constant irritation.  That said - you can judge the pictures for yourself.

https://goo.gl/photos/J1xnFufyPJ3xLEiU6

https://goo.gl/photos/ozVj1YLnU3AioB8E8

              

Gaspesie

For the geographically impaired, (of which I counted myself until we started traveling around), the Gaspesie is a peninsula of Quebec with the Atlantic Ocean on one side, and the St. Lawrence River on the other.  In actuality, it's a trip into rural France.  The only real highway hugs the coastline and goes through a seemingly endless series of small, small towns (usually with populations under 1000, and often under 500).  Each town is dominated by its Catholic church complete with gigantic steeple which towers

over the town and can been seen for miles.  Nobody really speaks English; however, with lots of pointing and charades we managed to eat.  It's amazing how much French I can understand now - well, reading it - can't understand a word beyond Bonjour when these folks talk.  We came up here to see two things:  Forillion National Park and the Sanguenay Fjord.  One was wonderful (the park) and the other a disappointment (the fjord).

As we drove through, one of my favorite things about the towns of the Gaspesie is the fanatical level of neatness, cleanliness, and lovely decoration of all the homes and buildings.  I've also become a devotee of the Halte Municipal.

Those are each town's public restroom facilities, usually little wooden buildings sitting on a lawn overlooking the ocean/St. Lawrence, usually with newly painted picnic tables.  These are not crappy, bug ridden, dirty unkempt pit toilet facilities, but rather just the opposite - always clean, usually with some type of flowers or other decoration sitting on the sink area, clean flush toilets, and always with soap and paper towels.  By the second usage, I was in love.

This is the one we hiked UP

Another big surprise was how mountainous this area is.  It's not the Rocky Mountains, but rather very big hills, maybe 350 meters.  (That's around 1000 feet for you Yankees.)  I struggled up while Drake hiked to the top of one of these tall hills.  The entire center of the peninsula is a series of one big national park (Forllion) and a series of smaller provincial parks.

Yes, I'm still red as a beet from the climb, but I made it         

And here's what we saw; so worth the effort

We also managed to picnic after the big uphill hike, and when we looked up from our table, I was in awe how far up I'd hiked.  If you look closely, you can see the observation tower on top of the cliff - I WAS THERE!  Aren't you impressed?  Well, I was.

If you're a fisherman, this place would be heaven since the numerous rivers with their snaking bends around mountains/hills followed by rippling rapids are loved by salmon and their catchers alike.  In one park, you could 'rent' your numbered spot with a little trail leading to a spot on a river to fish.  There were 65 sites just along the main roadway.

Another myth fell by the wayside in the Gaspesie. We can also no longer believe in the 'moose conspiracy'.  For more than fifteen years, we've been positive there were no moose either in New England or in Canada.  Our experience has always been some planted stranger saying, "Oh, there's a moose just around the bend of the trail", or just up the river, or grazing in the next field, etc.  We were sure there were people at a distance walking on all fours in moose suits as well as those walking around upright stamping moose tracks attached to sticks for the tourists to find.  We are now willing to admit we may have been wrong about the conspiracy.  As we rounded a bend in Forillion Park, a cluster of people were gathered looking at SOMETHING.  (We learned in Yellowstone when you see a cluster, it means some animal has been spotted.)  Quickly pulling to a stop, what did we find but this:  

Yes, it's a moose, and boy oh boy, these are BIG animals - this was was size of a large draft horse.  Now, it's easy to understand all the moose warning signs as well as actual 8 foot high fences along some portions of the Canadian highways.    If you hit one of these guys, it could easily be curtains for both the moose and the people and too often is.  Speaking of which, Drake has become a Bambi killer.  Instead of a moose, a very young deer, hardly older than a fawn because it was only the size of a large dog, jumped out of the brush on the side of the road and directly into the right front bumper of our car.  I was reading a guide book at the time, and all I heard was a BIG THUMP.  By the time Drake got stopped, checked the damage (minimal, thank heaven), and turned around so I COULD TAKE A PICTURE OF THE DEAD DEER, the deer was long gone.  We never did find it, but I'm sure it's dead somewhere back in the heavy brush.  I was so grateful I didn't have to record for posterity, Drake's 'kill'.  There's no way it could have survived.  As Drake put it, "That deer was committing suicide via car since it literally jumped in front of me.  There was no way I could react fast enough to avoid it".  We were extremely lucky.  Nothing mechanical was damaged - just a fog light and the window washer bottle.

The most famous landmark of the Gaspesie is the Perce' Rock.  We had a very enjoyable evening sitting out on our 'patio' in Adirondack chairs drinking a bottle of Pinot Noir recovering from our dead deer day and speculating what size boat could go through the hole.  The question remains unanswered since we didn't see ANY boat try it.

Our final experience in Gaspesie was the Jardin de Doris at Matane.  Yes, that's the Gardens of Doris, although I never found out who Doris was or is.  She does have a fab garden which is even more awesome when you consider the climate.  This place was seriously gorgeous, and they even had a cactus garden - which get's 'taken in' during the winter.  My favorites in this garden were the peonies which were just starting to bloom.  

Leaving Gaspesie, we took ANOTHER ferry from Matane to arrive on the Quebec City side of the St. Lawrence River.  The St. Lawrence is the Canadian equivalent of the Mississippi River, so big and so economically important.  It's time to see the urban portion of New France and the place where the British finally defeated the French to take control of North America.  

If you want to see more of Gaspesie or more of Jardin de Doris, click on the pix!

https://goo.gl/photos/9gdz3gpLWMsCZek69  (Gaspesie)

  

 https://goo.gl/photos/wG9LG1acRXQYVwFe6  (Jardin de Doris)

Bring on the Flowers

The Atlantic Maritimes are a flower lover's dream land.  There are several cultivated Botanical Gardens.  The one that won my heart was a small, lovely garden beside St. Mary's Roman Catholic Church in Cow Head, Newfoundland.

The main cultivated area of the garden was the size of a Hurst, Texas front yard, and it was utterly charming. This little gem was so obviously the pride and joy of some lovely ladies with green thumbs.  I especially liked the names of the flowers were hand painted on multi-million year old cobbles.  And, as an added touch, they had a peace and meditation area which just happened to overlook the ocean!

There was the Public Gardens of Halifax - very much a gathering space for the City akin to the Botanical Gardens in Fort Worth complete with a band stand and summer concerts. Then, there was the MUN (Memorial University of Newfoundland) Botanical Garden - a destination almost never found by tourists.  It was a big place, but only a small patch was 'cultivated', and the rest was natural covered in a network of hiking trails - again, so accessible to the public.

Today I was on a Canadian Public Broadcasting radio program - live.  Me, the possessor of the 'Black Thumb', who planted a garden in silk flowers, was interviewed on a Garden Show this morning.  I think I was a novelty.  I was snapping pictures at the MUN as usual, and this woman approached me.  It turns out she was producing this garden show program which was being broadcast at the MUN today.  She ignored Drake totally, and zeroed right in on me asking if I would do an interview and ask a gardening question.  Well... who could resist?  Not me, the complete extrovert!  I was very charming and introduced myself, where I was from, etc.  He brightened right up when I pronounced 'Newfoundland' correctly.  (Here's how I learned:  "I UNDERSTAND NEWFUNLAND" - see, it rhymes with 'understand'.)  Ok, so then I asked him a softball question:  "Why are there no roses here?"  (Answer:  Too wet, too short of a season.)  He told me they get 60" of rain each year in St. John's, and I quipped back,  "Now, I realize why there are no cactus."  It was fun.  I think they should have given me a prize, though.

There's one more Atlantic Martime flower treat before we leave the region - the New Brunswick lupines.  When we get off the ferry on Friday morning, I'm expecting expecting the areas around Moncton to be covered in them similar to how the bluebonnnets blanket the Metroplex in Texas.  I've seen a few, so far, but there are supposed to be fields and fields.  Keep those fingers crossed.

So, I've been snapping flower, flowers, flowers everywhere, and I love this new camera.  You can see the improvement over my last camera.  So, here are the flowers.
I'm showing two links, the same pictures, so hopefully, one will work

https://plus.google.com/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6166344978335473857?authkey=CMzqkfnDop-5kwE

or

https://goo.gl/photos/RnwqfYfTGiUHWLHv7

      

Who Doesn't Like Puffins?

I like birds.

I like bird colorations.

I like the challenge of taking pictures of birds with a camera which will fit in my pocket.

I'm even willing to get on a boat* to go look at birds.

*(Willingly boating by the Seasick Queen is the mark of exactly how serious I am about wanting to see birds. )

I don't like being thwarted* in my quest to see birds.
(Thus, I have held a fifteen year grudge against Drake and Sarah who outvoted me on our last visit to the Atlantic Maritimes when the question was whales or puffins?)

I finally got my puffins, and some other unlooked for birding benefits in our last boat outing* in Newfoundland.
(Well, last boat outing except for the upcoming 15 hour ferry ride back to the mainland.  Shudder.)

Click on the below link to see real, live puffins and murres with a few other birds thrown in.

https://goo.gl/photos/mtg1B2zAQAyoujZc6  

Ahoy! Iceberg Off the Port Side Bow.

Well, it was pretty darn thrilling.  We headed north to Twillingate, past which Iceberg Alley flows, to see icebergs.  Let me tell you, they do not disappoint.  Also, FYI, even on a calm day, we we were rockin' and a rollin' even in a 65' boat.  Drake was thinking of me when he booked the biggest boat he could find.  We were a bit unlucky in that there were only two icebergs within realistic reach of land for us lubber tourists.  The wind changed the day before we arrived pushing the line of icebergs headed for Twillingate away from it.

Getting to Twillingate was something of an adventure.  Apparently, Twillingate has an

industry second to fishing, and that's the creation of potholes.  Such the mark of a poor region - they really can't afford to fix their roads, and in town was even worse.  Drake had a tense drive from Gros Morne, but even he would agree it was worth it.  The scenery in addition to the icebergs was breathtaking.  Everywhere we've gone in Newfoundland has just been gorgeous.

Iceberg boat day we were a bit unlucky and had crappy weather.  It was 47 degrees when we got onto the boat decked out in long underwear, long sleeve T's, long sleeved fleece, and our hard core rain gear along with hats, ear warmers, and gloves.  We weren't toasty, but neither were we cold.  It was tremendous fortune it didn't rain on us since there was a 50/50  chance.  The wind was also pretty minimal.  The iceberg within reach was a 'growler', a little one - only the size of a 5000 square foot two

story house.  I loved the color - pale blue with striations.  This was so worth it, and I'm on a roll - second boat ride on which I WASN'T seasick.  I admit, this one was touch and go for a few minutes.

Not only was the iceberg a thrill, but the Northern Newfoundland coastline was really beautiful and interesting

Naturally, I sniffed out the only museum worth seeing:  The Armed Brigade Museum was really twofold:  It was memorabilia of the brigade populated mostly by Northern Newfoundlanders during World War I and beyond as well as a collection of important historical artifacts telling the history of the Durrell/Twillingate towns.  To top it off, their centerpiece exhibit was a stuffed polar bear, the very one who walked into town in 2006!  The game wardens couldn't tranquilize it, so they had to put it down.  The polar bear's loss, but the town museum's gain.

When the Twillingate folks aren't showing icebergs, they're fishing, and we even saw a boat 'going out'.  

Plus, there's lobstering.  The pots are strung like necklaces all over the Twillingate area.  Overall, we've wanted to see more of Newfoundland than we have.  Next, we are headed to St. John's, and I get to fulfill a thwarted fifteen year desire:  We are going to see puffins!

If you want to see all the angles of the iceberg plus some more coastal views and Twillingate, then here are more pictures

https://goo.gl/photos/MSNNbUYiSaR1u6GBA



   

Yiss, Bye

"Yiss, bye!" said with a single head toss with upward sweeping eyes pretty much expresses exactly how I feel about Newfoundland.  Let me translate.  "Yes, boy!" is a common slang term used to express both very positive and very negative feelings - depending on your inflection and whether you toss you head in exuberance or mournfully shake your head back and forth.  I learned this from Mike, the water taxi guy along with some other great NL slang.

Western Newfoundland is gorgeous.

I think it would even be gorgeous in the dead of winter.  However, I've been many places with great scenery or fabulous art (Paris comes to mind), and the people who live in those places range from downright rude to barely tolerant, to civil because you're giving them money, to pleasant, to outright friendly and welcoming.  Newfoundland's people fall into the last description.  To be truthful, they remind me of people in West Texas.  As someone I met at the post office yesterday expressed it when I remarked everyone was so friendly, "Well, there are so few of us we love new people."  To be fair, it also helps we are early in the 'season', it's hard to get here, and we are something of a novelty - I can almost, not quite, but almost, see 'cowboys and Indians' cross their eyes when we say we are from Texas. I actually discussed Monument Valley with some old guy, and he was impressed I'd seen it.

The weather here is almost unpredictable.  Literally.  Part of it is being right on the ocean, and part of the inability to find an accurate weather prediction is the natural micro climates which pocket this area.

There are the highest mountains in Newfoundland in Gros Morne National Park (about 2600' feet), and butted up against the mountains are a combination of bogs and marshes which run down to the seashore but only in certain places.  The mountains have the

usual compliment of firs and deciduous trees - similar to New England since these mountains have been logged making way for the trees with leaves that turn colors in the fall to flourish.  (Oh, did I forget to mention the three EAGLES we saw?)   There are also areas of forest interspersed with natural meadows

where the caribou graze. THEN, there are the tablelands which is why this area is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and Canada developed it as a National Park in the 1970's.

The tablelands are actually the Earth's mantle heaved up and left exposed when two of the Earth's continental plates collided upteen years ago - that's an Oklahoma expression meaning, it was a really long time ago and I can't remember the exact number.  When the dust finally settled, you have the Earth's mantle sitting cheek and jowl with an ancient ocean bottom.  Their juxtaposition is credited with helping develop and prove the tectonic theory of the Earth's formation, and geologists come from all over the world to study here since the geology of the Gros Morne area is so unique.  There's also a study station for marine biologists here.

Because the mantle rocks of the Tablelands were so close to the core of the Earth, they are full of

heavy metals and are actually toxic to plants.  The few which manage to grow are poisonous to animals.  If this were there states, there would be warning signs ("DON'T LICK THE ROCKS")  However, this is Canada, so it's assumed you have some sense and understand chromium (to name a one of the inert heavy metals found in the rocks and soil) isn't good to eat.  We learned all this and more from the Ranger led hike we took up into the shoulder of the Tablelands.

This area is dotted with tiny towns which are mostly under 1000 people each.  We are staying at Norris Point, named for Ned Norris, an English trapper who, in 1790, was the first European to live here.  So, the town is named for him, and one of the small coves is called "Neddie's Harbor".  Another town, 'Cow Head' got its name because a French fisherman thought one of the rocks looked like, yes, a cow's head.  The area names are a mixture of French and English.  The tallest mountain was named by the French:  Gros Morne.  It means big sad mountain because it's bald on top.  Men have always been obsessed with their baldness, haven't they?  Cow Head is also a harbor, and the open sea is dramatically different from the protected harbors.  This is a peninsula which separates the Cow Head harbor from the open ocean.

The dominant feature of the geography here are the open and closed fjords.

As the glaciers retreated during the last ice age, they gouged out long, deep channels which the ocean rushed in to fill.  Bonne Bay, the dominant bay of the area where we are staying is an example of one of those fjords.    Norris Point is at the narrow neck where three fjords meet at 'the tickle' so named because it doesn't freeze over in the winter.

More interesting are the enclosed fjords.

 Where there was bog or marsh covered by the glacier, the channel left behind by the glacier was closed to the ocean since the bog rebounded by filling with water just like a sponge when the glacier retreated leaving the deep channel landlocked.  They Newfoundlanders call these landlocked fjords 'ponds'.  We walked in two miles through a marsh/bog area to get to the boat tour of an enclosed fjord.  We boat toured the Western Brook Pond.  They actually helicoptered the boats in pieces, or drug the pieces by sled over the frozen bogs in the winter, built a boathouse, and assembled the tour boats.  Boy, talk about beautiful.  We were worried since it was foggy the day we scheduled the boat ride, but slowly the fog lifted creating fantastic pictures.

A couple of miles away from the marsh and the faux fjord was this lovely seashore dotted with fishing shacks.  Fishing, specifically, lobstering is still the mainstay of the economy, and Bonne Bay is dotted with lobster traps and buoys.

One big surprise here is the food.  Each one of these tiny towns seems to have attracted one or two really talented chefs.  We've had some fabulous meals here.  This meal

was so pretty, and another example of the fifty ways to eat lobster.  This wasn't even my favorite meal here.

To sum Western Newfoundland up, I offer this final picture:  (Please notice, I'm wearing a new necklace from the glass maker from Rocky Harbor.  For a closer look, I posted it on FB.)  And, yes, I'm wearing a long sleeve shirt, a fleece vest and a windbreaker.  I think it was 62 this day.  Just perfect.  And, that's Newfoundland, just perfect.

 

Southern Nova Scotia

Nova Scotia is beautiful.  This is the view from the patio at the house we rented of St. Margaret's Bay - actually a subset of that bay - it's Frenchman's Village Bay.

People here are pretty universally 'house proud', so even the human habitation doesn't spoil the loveliness of this corner of the world.  However, it's also hardscrabble in the same way every place without a robust economic base is.  Yes, there is tourism, and yes, there is still lobstering and some fishing, but otherwise...

The woman whose house we rented here was rushing off to a board meeting the day we arrived.  When I inquired idly, "What board?"  She replied, "It's a charitable organization.  This place may not look it, but Nova Scotia is actually a poor province filled with very proud people who conceal their needs."  After that brief conversation, I began to look more closely at what I was seeing as we drove around southern Nova Scotia, and I came to the conclusion she was right.  It has made us more generous in our dealings with people here as they met our tourist agenda.

I have had incredible food here.  It's a given you have to LOVE fish and shellfish in particular.  Well, duh.  I've missed this wonderful fresh fish.  It's just not available in the landlocked world; I don't care how fast you freeze it for shipment.  The Atlantic Maritimes do teach you the fifty ways to eat lobster - well, maybe not FIFTY, but you get my drift.  So far, I've had (1) lobster rolls - OK, several; (2) lobster Caesar salad; (3) lobster wraps - yes, more than one of those; (4) lobster pasta; (5) lazy man's lobster - whole lobster somebody else wrestles out of the shells - did this twice; (6) lobster bisque, (7) lobster mac and cheese, and, my favorite, (8) the lobster cocktail, then, in Newfoundland, I had (9) lobster, scallops and polenta - kind of the Maritime take on the current craze for 'shrimp & grits'.   I have missed the lobster pot pie, the lobster club sandwich, and the lobster eggs benedict; however, I AM still in the Maritimes.

Of course, I've eaten fried clams - they're always fried 'whole' here and bowls of clam chowder. There's even something called "The Chowder Trail" which is accessorized by a blank stamp book.  You're supposed to tote your stamp book around all of Nova Scotia, so you can paste stamps obtained from the various restaurants in to your book  as you eat your chowdery way across Nova Scotia.  (What an complicated, silly idea!  Some tourist promoter's harebrained scheme, no doubt.)

Haddock is the big eating fish here akin to catfish in Texas.  I've had a couple of amazing haddock dishes including a cajun blackened haddock sandwich perfectly prepared.  If you're not jealous now, you should be because these folks know fish preparation just like the New Orleanians do.

Another unlooked for plus is you can get MAPLE stuff here.  Maple hard candies shaped like little maple leaves are some of my favorite sweets.  I found I like them better than the formed maple sugar candies.  There's still no maple cotton candy, but that was probably just a New Hampshire thing.  At least I'm full up on syrup.  I've still got some frozen in my mother-in-law's freezer, so I won't have to carry a jug full of maple syrup along with us on this trip.

There's a lot of very, very good art in Nova Scotia.  (We actually bought a new painting for the AZ house from a gallery down the road from our rented house.)  I found a new to me artist whose work I will be looking for as we cross Canada.  His name is Joe Norris, and he's a primitive.  At least that's what I've seen so far.  This is my favorite piece of several I saw in the Nova Scotia Gallery of Art (the island's premiere art museum).  

I know, I know - everybody is thinking, "Oh, Jan, that piece is so silly.  Are you sure it's ART?"  I'm telling you it has a charming whimsy which is very, very difficult to achieve in this type of art.  

There is, of course, breathtakingly lovely scenery everywhere you look here.  I've snapped endless pictures of it.

And, it's spring again for us.  The rhododendrons are in full roar here, and if you've never seen these bushes, well, let's just say they make azaleas look like poor relations in scanty clothes.

The man-made best sightseeing venue is The Citadel hands down, but the most interesting place I visited in southern Nova Scotia was an example of the early industrial revolution.   This unassuming place is called the Wile Carding Museum, and it's a small red house which looks like a fishing cabin.  At least that was my first impression as I walked up to the place.  I thought I'd see the tired old pictures with too many words and be done with the whole thing in fifteen minutes.

Oh, no.  It wasn't like that at all.  This is an actual early industrial factory which operated from 1860 to 1968.  "Carding" is preparing wool to be spun into thread or made into batting.  What made this place so interesting is the original machines are still in place.  This was seeing the early industrial revolution come to life.  Even more amazing was being able to walk up and see the machines and touch them.  The docent was really well informed, and one reason for her knowledge was the museum curators were able to interview people who actually worked on the machines.

Apparently, Mr. Wile, the owner, was a hard taskmaster expecting his 14 to 16 year old female workers to work 10 to 12 hours a day, six days a week, for the queenly sum of $2 a day.  He installed an indoor privy, not for his worker's comfort, but to cut down on the amount of rest time his employees were able to take. There was no dinner break; they ate standing at the machines they operated.

The carding machinery had no automatic shut-offs or any other safety features at all.  Ironically, one of the worst jobs in the factory was working fat by hand into the wool prior to the carding.  The stinking, rancid, fat was obtained from the tanning factory down the road. The farmer was expected to present washed wool - wool with the lanolin washed out of it - to the factory since the natural wool lanolin was sticky and jammed the machines.  However, with no oil in the wool, it became brittle when run through the machines necessitating the rancid fat being added.

The machines ran the fat saturated wool through a series of rollers each with a smaller and smaller sets of 'teeth.  The finished product was either batting or a inch in diameter rope roll of wool - ready for quilts or for spinning into thread.  At the height of wool production in Nova Scotia, there were about fifty of these 'factories'.  Mr. Wile may have been hard on his employees, but he had a reputation for honesty. Farmers came from far away to let HIS factory card their wool since he returned the farmer's same wool to him after processing.  Some factories pawned off inferior wool back to the farmers, keeping the superior wool to sell themselves.

 It's somewhat of a miracle the building is still standing considering the most of these 'factories' (about the size of your living room/dining room combination) burned to the ground since the processing of wool was so flammable.   The whole process at the Wile Carding Factory was powered by a water wheel at a natural small waterfall area in the river.

So, you can see why I was so excited when I left this place, and the unlooked for lagniappe was the duck family in the upper pond.

As we left Nova Scotia, I dreaded the eight hour ferry crossing to Newfoundland.  I was sure I'd be barfing or fighting not to barf the entire trip.  I feared we would have a  small shabby cabin that smelled like feet with wooden bunks and a communal bathroom down the hall.  Instead, we had a cruise ship type cabin with private bath, and a smooth crossing most of which I slept through.  Just goes to show you, worry is such a waste of time and energy.  Not a single one of my fears came true.  On to Newfoundland. 

As always, if you want to see ALL the pictures:

https://goo.gl/photos/9p95DdQZ6U5hGkrcA  - Wile Carding Factory

https://goo.gl/photos/wEZuEH9Ye9HUehjz6 - Southern Nova Scotia

And just for good measure - can't remember if I included the Public Gardens in Halifax in the last blog - here is that set

https://goo.gl/photos/DEDmvBRf3evqiguR7 - Public Gardens, Halifax