This was one thing I’d been looking forward to since I read about it back in February: a Michelin-referenced restaurant in Rivière du Loup called La Porte Arrière (‘Michelin-referenced’ just means it made it into the Michelin Guide, but doesn’t have a star).

We are staying at an absolutely beautiful municipal campground out on the St Lawrence – views across to Tadoussac and the Charlevoix mountains – and we took a taxi into town.  I don’t want to talk about the shopping – I really did need new winter boot and they’re Canadian-made, so I shouldn’t feel guilty.  (You know, for a woman who does not enjoy shopping, I have somehow worn my credit card down to a nub over the past few months.)

The restaurant was lovely and we practiced our French – we’re assuming they understood us, as the food that arrived looked like what we had hoped for when we placed our orders.  Unusually, they charge for bread – not typical for high-end restaurants.  That would have put me off, but it simply made LL more curious, so of course she ordered it.  Glad she did – see below. 

My starter was quite possibly the best steak tartare I’ve ever had, and the main was homemade pasta with homemade ricotta, homemade focaccia croutons, and homegrown tomatoes and basil.

Anyhoo – this was one highly anticipated venue that truly did live up to (and beyond) my expectations.  Nice way to wrap up my adventure.  Five days to go!!!!!

It’s a 2-minute detour off the TransCanada Highway in New Brunswick, and well worth it.  It’s much younger than I had assumed – I just figured it was a relic from the 18^th century, but no, it was built in 1901, and covered in the 1920s.  Hunh.  It’s not just for show; cars drive through it single file, using good manners to allow each direction to take turns.  According to the internet, we could have fit through as it is 11’ 6” high and we are 11’ 3”. Not happening – that is waaay too close.  We took the suspension bridge three minutes up the road instead.  The town of Hartland is very cute, and we picnicked in the RV before heading on through the Appalachians to Edmundston.

The fall colours were spectacular – dare I say, almost better than Ontario. (I feel guilty even writing that.)

Again, the lady we saw next door is absolutely none of our business.  With that out of the way, we kept a keen eye out this morning to see what she was up to. She slept somewhere in her truck (front seat? back?), was up and about at a decent hour, did some laundry which she left to hang dry on the passenger door, went for a walk, packed up her clothes, and then silently drove away.

So we’ll never know.  Damn it.

Fredericton may not have lived up to what I had created in my mind, but Hartt Island Campground is as nice as I remember it.  Our site is right on the St John River (before any pedants come for me, the city is Saint John spelled out in full, and the river is St John), and we have had a series of clear, sunny, warm days.

Today isn’t quite as sunny, but the view is still lovely, and we’ve decided that, rather than head back into town, let’s make today a day of rest and relaxation, with an occasional load of laundry, and some French language practice.

I love days like this – lots of tea, cosy blankets, and maybe an Agatha Christie mystery on the telly.

**Edit:  LL & I have a mystery to solve.  When we arrived, we set up, then poured a couple of G&Ts and sat outside.  The two sites immediately beside us are empty.  At the closest picnic table was a young man who was sitting reading, then did his prayers (nice, picturesque place to pray).  Then he gathered up his stuff and wandered off.  Later, he pulled into the same site in a car, in a different shirt, and sat in his car for a good hour or so.  No trailer, no tent, nothing.

Meanwhile, in the empty site next to him came a small pick-up truck.  Again, no trailer, no tent, just a single woman, who again just sat in the cab of her car for a while, before getting out and wandering off.  Who were these solo, automobile-only voyagers?

By about dinner time the young man drove away.  But the woman in the truck stayed.  Mostly she seemed to just sit in the cab, occasionally getting out to walk around the paths in the park.  Eventually it got dark and we had to close our blinds. 

This morning – she’s still there – still no trailer or tent.  She just walked over the washrooms, and now she’s off for a stroll.  Did she sleep here?  In the back seat of her truck?  Lori & I are completely absorbed and totally perplexed.

I tell you all this, not because it’s in any way important to my East Coast journey, but to show you just how shallow and nosey LL & I can be (and often are) – we are our mothers’ daughters.  Here’s hoping we get more info before leaving tomorrow morning.

In July, I spent a couple of days in Fredericton.  I stayed at an amazing campground and local waterpark, Hartt Island.  I drove into downtown Fredericton and got caught up on some ‘work’ (blog, banking, volunteer work) in their beautiful main library., watching all the pedestrians out the windows.  Due to construction and a couple of festivals, I wasn’t really able to spend a lot of time wandering the town, but that was okay, I knew I’d be back in September with Lori and we could properly explore then.  In fact, I was so impressed with my campsite that I booked the exact same spot then and there.

I’ve really been looking forward to returning, and had told Lori all about it – how cute the centre of town was, how busy and vibrant it seemed, and how lively the campground was.

Well.

We had a lovely drive from Saint Andrews – as we continue to wend our way northwards, the colours just get better and better – there is absolutely nothing like eastern & central Canada in September – I feel so sorry for the rest of the world for missing out on our autumns.

We pulled into a great parking spot in downtown Fredericton on a sunny Saturday afternoon and headed out on what was to be the first of two days of sightseeing.

Um.

It’s not quite what I had anticipated.  Downtown is two blocks long; many of the stores & restaurants were closed; we found only two cute shops; and the streets were really quite empty.  Don’t get me wrong – anyone we spoke to was very pleasant and friendly, and the tree-lined streets are very pretty – but we were underwhelmed, to say the least.  We had an absolutely delicious ramen lunch, then left town and headed out to our campsite.  I don’t think we’ll be heading back into town tomorrow.

Isn’t it always the way?  The places you’ve hyped in your mind are a disappointment (Fredericton) and the ones with no build up turn out to be delights (Saint John).

New Brunswick is big on saints along the south shore: Saint John, Saint Stephen, Saint George, Saint Martins, and Saint Andrews, all within 90 minutes of one another.

We’ve just spent the last two days in Saint Andrews, and what a lovely town!  (I know, good weather always helps.)  Our campground is right in town, on the point, just a 10-minute walk from the main drag.  We’ve spent the last two days (and more dollars than I care to think about) sitting having coffee overlooking the bay, dining at some delightful restaurants, and shopping in so many different shops and boutiques.

Everyone says hello, including the tourists, most of whom seem to be American.  We’ve had some great conversations with travellers from the US, all of whom start every chat with, “We’re so sorry; it’s not our fault.” (You do have to feel for them.)

This campground we’re staying at is one of the first I booked when planning this trip, and the first thing that jumped out at me was their offer to ‘deliver cooked lobster directly to your campsite’.  So this evening, we made sure that the salad was made, the sweet potatoes were roasted, the table was set, and the butter (Cows Creamery butter from PEI – don’t even ask about the price) was melted at exactly 5:58, in anticipation of our 6 pm cooked lobster delivery.  

OMFG – it was amazing.  We polished that off in under 6 minutes (we’re so classy) and then sat is a blissful post-lobster haze for the next 40 minutes, before turning on Episode One of this year’s Great British Bake Off, with the new judge, Nigella Lawson.

A perfect end to a perfect day.  (Again, let us not think of the amount of money I have chosen to leave behind in Saint Andrews; after all I needed those books, and soaps, and sweater, and wine, and . . . .)

LL & BN had a Class A (the ones that look like a big bus) motorhome and it came with built-in levellers.  If your campsite is sloped, you just push a variety of buttons, and supports drop down and level out the rig.  I had assumed mine would come with those too.  I was wrong.

Last year, I was just lucky enough that most of my sites were fairly level, but I knew as I visited more remote areas that wouldn’t be the case, so I bought a levelling kit.  These kits are either flat plastic plates that you stack one atop the other and then drive up on (imagine very shallow, very big Lego pieces that interlock), or wedges that you push under a tire and drive up on.  Some campers just bring a few 1” x 6” boards to do the same thing.  The wedges I bought look kind of like a giant Nike swoosh.

Most people travel as a couple, so levelling an RV is an easier prospect: as one person drives, the other directs them to exactly the right spot on the blocks.  I do not have a second person, so I have to do all of this solo. I determine which part of the rig needs to be raised by looking at the liquid level in the cab of my truck, climb out of the RV and dig out the kit, move my Nike swoosh under the appropriate tire(s), climb back into the truck, and ever-so-gently roll the RV onto the wedge.  The trick is not rolling too far – if you go too far, you bounce right off the wide end of the wedge and – swoosh – out it flies like a dangerous projectile, and then you have to start the process all over again.

LL was quite impressed watching me do this in Digby.  Who me? Smug? Nah . . . shucks, t’weren’t nuthin . . .

It is wonderful to be travelling with someone again! LL was shocked to hear I was not loving this life.  But I assured her our next three weeks together as we wend our way home will be great – this seems to be some sort of only-when-I’m-alone malaise – and sure enough, within an hour of our travelling together we had: had a fun chat with a lady in a grocery store; watched Lori’s suitcase roll from one end of the RV to the other as we were driving; and (and this is my favourite) she had a delightful moment as she was directing me into our campsite: the man in the camper next to us had chosen to use his toilet with his door open, and LL got mooned (she had to stay in my line of sight to direct me, and couldn’t move or avert her eyes).   She was grossed out; I found it hilarious. So the dynamic duo is back!

Someone warned us not to have high hopes of Saint John, as it wasn’t much of a city.  But I’ve found your enjoyment of a place really all depends on what you chance on in your travels.

We got off the ferry (a beautiful 2.5 hr trip across the Bay of Fundy from Digby NS) and our GPS went absolutely bonkers.  Seriously, it wanted us doing U-turns in the middle of town.  LL wondered if it was all the industry around the harbour and I wondered if it had anything to do with New Brunswick’s bizarre natural wonders (Reversing Falls, Magnetic Hill). But finally we made it to our campground in a lovely park on the outskirts of town.  As we were checking in, we saw a What To Do In Town board with Pete’s Historical Walking Tours highlighted.  Well, that was a good call. 

In the morning we headed down to an area on the waterfront called Area 506 Container Market (506 is New Brunswick’s area code, I guess).  This was funky little boutiques and cafes and stages all in repurposed shipping containers.  The we met up with Pete, a man who clearly loves his job and his town very much. (And Scotland, interestingly.  He almost talked more about the Scots than he did about Saint John.)  It was an absolutely fascinating and entertaining tour of the city on a beautiful sunny September morning.  What a pretty and interesting city.  I strongly recommend. Mind you, to LL’s friend’s point, I’m not sure what you’d do on Day Two in Saint John; I feel we’d hit all the high spots.

Lunch was a disappointment – I cannot recommend Grannan’s Seafood.  Ah well.

I’ve been counting the days until LL rejoined me in Halifax for the last leg of my East Coast adventure.  She is just getting off a cruise through Iceland, Greenland, Newfoundland, and Nova Scotia.  After too many weeks of solo travel, I am really looking forward to having my travel buddy back.

I haven’t told her yet that I’m selling this RV.  She spent 2+ years traversing North America in a motorhome, and I know it was one of the best experiences of her life.  So she’s gonna be bummed that this hasn’t worked out for me.

This is us starting the trip home – we leave Halifax and head to Digby Nova Scotia to catch the ferry over to Saint John NB.  We were supposed to be joining up with some American friends in Saint Andrews by the Sea for a few days, but sadly, they have all had to cancel.  (I was quite disappointed as (a) I really enjoy travelling with them; (b) I wanted to introduce them to Lori; and (c) I was hoping the five of us could come up with a river cruise trip we could all do together. But family & health issues overruled our plans – we’ll figure something else out in the future.) But it looks like good weather ahead, and Saint Andrews has lots to do, so we should be just fine.

I spent yesterday with one of my very first boyfriends (I make it sound like there are dozens of them out there 😛).  We dated in London when I was in university and haven’t seen each other since 1993.  About every 5 or 10 years or so, one of us would find the other on FB, or via an old email address, or something, and we’d have a quick 3-email catch-up exchange, and then we’d fade away again. But that had really been it for three decades, until I let him know I’d be in the Halifax area for a few days this month.

He’s lived on the South Shore in Nova Scotia for years and I would be staying about 30 minutes north of his place, so we decided to get together for lunch and an afternoon of sightseeing.

Fish and chips at the local yacht club, then down to the village he lives in along the coast, about 25 minutes outside Halifax, for gin & tonics at his place.  Below are the views from his deck (absolutely stunning).  Then a walk along the shore to check out the flora (he makes his own candles from bayberries that he picks along the cliff tops), and fauna (we saw what was either a very large seal or a very small whale swimming below us – likely the former).

Seven hours of reminiscing (I had forgotten we saw A Chorus Line together, but we both still clearly remember the camping trip to Algonquin with his family) and catching up – all in a beautiful setting, on a gorgeous sunny September day. 

He has always been a life-in-the-wild, environmentally conscientious, socially responsible sort of a person – much like the rest of his family, and a part of me wanted to find a way to say I was quite supportive of Trump and thought we needed something similar up here in Canada, just to see his reaction.  I mean, people do change over time, and I did pursue a much more capitalist career than he did, so he might have actually bought it.  But I simply couldn’t do it with a straight face.  We were too busy having fun comparing life notes and talking about our plans for the future.  A great day.

Oh, and while this absolutely should not matter, and has nothing to do with the kind of person he is, I do have to say: he was an incredibly good-looking boy at 18, and over 40 years later?  An incredibly good-looking grown man. (like, stunning. Really.)  And every bit as sweet, and nice, and interesting, and funny as ever.  Best day I’ve had in ages.