Author: Pat Arnow

Cliffs, Rocks, Tides, Friend, Dog

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My friend and camping companion Jennie captured my happiness on the loveliest hike on our trip to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. In Battery Provincial Park on Cape Breton Island, the trail was a grassy path through wildflowers that grew above our heads with the dark elegant fir trees and the blue sea beyond. I hiked barefoot!

The photo below with the cliffside highway and rocky beach cove captures the essence to me of the Cabot Trail that skirts Cape Breton Island.

Cabot Trail, Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada.On the Bay of Fundy with the highest tides in the world, we stayed at Five Islands Provincial Park in Nova Scotia and Fundy National Park in New Brunswick. In both places we spent hours climbing around rocks and admiring the fast approaching and receding waters, how quickly the landscape changed, how we could walk out onto mudflats that had been covered with water that would have been over our heads a little while ago.  Here are photos of the low and high tides at Five Islands:

Low Tide on the Bay of FundyHigh Tide on the Bay of Fundy

Here are my fellow explorers, Jennie and Lilac. At the picnic table, Jennie is breaking down one of the lobsters we ate along the Cabot Trail. We were at the Hideaway campground at the top of Cape Breton Island.

 

I took many more photos and posted them as an album on flickr. Click on the link below to take a look:

Flickr Nova Scotia and New Brunswick

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Buttons, Floppy, and Queenie will be sorely missed

Buttons, Floppy, and Queenie will be sorely missed

What’s a desperate woman to do when there’s no place to pee for miles? Pull off onto a remote country road and turn onto a grassy gravel path looking for a deserted spot. 

And there it was, the reward for too much coffee: A rumpled sign for a pet cemetery. Arnow-1130299Just like a pet dog, I took care of my business in the grass by a tree. Then I followed the trail over a grassy field past overgrown trees laden with green apples to a large shady corral freshly mowed. Arnow-1130286There were touching and funny little headstones: Sheri, “Our Little Care Bear,” Molly, “Daddy’s Precious Little Teddy Bear,” Eleanor, “a Purrfect Companion,” Tinker, “Sassy Cat.”

Then there was Butchy, Valley Bulldog, 1997-2008 “Like Losing the Perfect Son.” Ouch for their human children.

Arnow-1130273The little graves were marked with familiar pet names: Duke, Sheba, Patches, Brandy, Rascal, Mittens (Bless Me Kitty), Tattoo, Puddy, Wiley, and two Busters.

Queenie had a big headstone decorated with with carved dog bones, sea-themed sculptures and plushy toys, well chewed. Arnow-1130282I took a close up of her bear (at right) with legs torn off and stuffing spilling out, but it’s too gruesome to publish. 

Here’s one of my favorites: Arnow-1130284Floppy lived one year but Melissa loved that hare, and her parents (I’m guessing) helped her through her grief with this memorial.

Well, I know that doesn’t tell you much about this trip to Nova Scotia except for that one little charming and eerie place outside of Lunenberg.

I have been having a fine time meandering from Yarmouth to Halifax along green-lined roads, admiring the cute towns with both pretty and working waterfronts. 

The food has been excellent: a seafood chowder, Montreal meat sandwich (corned beef, really), poutine—a combination of fries, gravy and cheese curds that sounds like a mess but tastes divine. I want to eat it every day while I’m here. 

I could be telling a lot of anecdotes—about the lacy B&Bs I stayed in, the helpful bus driver in Halifax who answered my inquiry by telling me to hop on so he could take me to a better transfer point, the bike rider who insisted on giving me a ferry ticket in Dartmouth (across from Halifax–the Brooklyn of Nova Scotia) because it was my first day. 

This trip is delightful and there is a lot to share. 

But I really wanted to show you the pet headstones. 

The Whiskey Treatment

In anticipation of a road trip with lots of camping in Nova Scotia, I’ve been reading  The Tent Dwellers, a droll 1906 travelogue about a fishing trip to Nova Scotia. It rains most of  the time on his trip, which inspires me to pack two raincoats, waterproof pants, and two tarps.

Here’s a good passage about when the author  gets poison Ivy on his face:

Many times a day I bathed my face in the pure waters of the lake and then with the spirits—rye or Scotch, as happened to be handy…And I wish to add here in all seriousness that whatever may be your scruples against the use of liquors, don’t go into the woods without whisky…

Alcohol, of course, is good for poison ivy, but whisky is better. Maybe it is because of the drugs that wicked men are said to put into it. Besides, whisky has other uses. The guides told us of one perfectly rigid person who, when he had discovered that whisky was being included in his camp supplies, had become properly incensed, and commanded that it be left at home. The guides had pleaded that he need not drink any of it, that they would attend to that part of what seemed to them a necessary camp duty, but he was petrified in his morals, and the whisky remained behind.

Well, they struck a chilly snap, and it rained. It was none of your little summer landscape rains, either. It was a deadly cold, driving, drenching saturation. Men who had built their houses on the sand, and had no whisky, were in a bad fix. The waves rose and the tents blew down, and the rigid, fossilized person had to be carried across an overflowed place on the back of a guide, lifting up his voice meanwhile in an effort to convince the Almighty that it was a mistake to let it rain at this particular time, and calling for whisky at every step.

It is well to carry one’s morals into the woods, but if I had to leave either behind, I should take the whisky.                 — Albert Bigelow Paine

Yes, I am bringing whiskey. I’ll tell you later if any morals survive. 

I hope to post pictures and stories from the trip. Next week, I’ll be taking the ferry from Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth, exploring the Southwestern coast, and staying in Dartmouth, which I read is the Brooklyn of Halifax.

Then I’ll meet with my camping friend Jennie and her miniature Schnauzer Lilac, and their little truck. We’ll camp all around Cape Breton Island.

In New Brunswick, we will stay in Fundy National Park where we’ll see the 50-foot tides. 

If you know of places I should see, please do tell.

The Ruined Resort of Curaçao

Along a beautiful, disheveled beach are the remains of a bankrupted hotel. This is on Santa Martha’s Bay, about halfway up the island, far from the cruise terminals of Willemstad. Abandoned about nine years ago, all the windows, doors, and fixtures have been removed, and the place is crumbling. These ruins below our rental house added a spooky magic to a charming trip with friends Ken and Clarence.

 

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Remains of a miniature golf course

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Unexpected hazards
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Putt around the thorns.

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The pool had a swim-up bar.

 

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Besides the glorious ruins, the beautiful beaches and views called.

 

And fabulous friends

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My Own Orwell Moment

This was unsettling:

At the turn of the century, I worked as a research editor for Readers Digest, which had offices at 260 Madison Ave. in Midtown. Last week, when Steve and I had an appointment there, it was the first time I’d been in the building since 2002. Readers Digest had long since departed, too.

Steve showed his ID at the security desk in the remodeled, unrecognizable lobby–new management, new owners. The officer took Steve’s photo and printed out a visitor label with the picture. I showed my ID. The officer didn’t take my picture, but quickly handed me a label.

Here is my visitor’s badge with the photo taken in 2000:IMG_1119

Big brother has been watching for a long time.

Cardboard Kayaking

If you needed to make a getaway by water, and all you had was cardboard and tape and a paddle, could you make it? Maybe. Every July on Governors Island (a few minutes by ferry from Manhattan), 20 teams have two hours to build a vessel, and then they race with two-person crews. Some of the boats disintegrate, many of them flip over. A few make it.

I love this event. This year it was even better for me. My friend Lauren Collins helped build this pizza slice shaped vessel with the scrappy Red Hook kayak club, so I had a personal reason to cheer for this team.

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The competition looked tough–some coastal engineering firms had teams, environmental groups, kayaking clubs and the formidable Coast Guard (the two woman in the first picture were their crew).

When the Red Hook pizza slice began their heat with four boats, I’d say their odds weren’t good. But then, every other cardboard kayak instantly flipped over.

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Even the Coast Guard boat flipped.

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All Red Hook had to do was get around the buoy and come back, which they did to big cheers.

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In the finals, all team crews were men except the Red Hook team with Sherry and her 10-year-old daughter Maggie.

The Red Hook team got the biggest cheers and came in fourth (not last!). Sherry nearly got knocked in the head by the paddle of one of the eventual winners (last picture), who didn’t need to be so aggressive to win the trophy made of cardboard and tape.

Still, Sherry thought racing was thrilling from beginning to end. A woman came up to her and said, ‘I just want to say you’re the most awesome Mom.”

The Red Hook team took home the prize for “Most Ambitious.”

Their boat held up, unlike many, including the one below:

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So…Could you escape by cardboard and tape boat? Build it like a pizza slice, and then maybe.

 

The Disgruntled Lions of Italy

On a recent trip to Orvieto, Rome, Venice, and Bologna, I noticed that lions work hard holding up buildings, showing scrolls, and spitting water in fountains. Most of these creatures look unhappy, resentful, embarrassed, sad, anxious, or resigned to duty that they never dreamed would be theirs for eternity. Here are some photos of the kings of the jungle in their reduced circumstances. I added captions that expressed what they might be thinking. If they weren’t made of stone.

For other Italian photos, some lovely, some bizarre, please see my album on flickr: https://flic.kr/s/aHskBveufg

High in the air among the gargoyles, the lion looks like he's stepping off into space, and he's not happy about it.
Oh crap, it must be four stories to the ground. That’s a long way, even for a cat with wings. (Basilica, Orvieto)
This building is heavy.
Get me down from here so I can eat some more Christians. (Rome)
Piazza del Popolo Fountain, Rome
It’s my job to spit water all day. Sigh. (Piazza del Popolo, Rome)
Natural History Museum, Venice
I’m a hunting trophy from the 19th century. Bite me. (Museum of Natural History, Venice)
Salute Basilica, Venice
Yeah I got a black eye. You should see the other guy. (Salute Basilica, Venice)
Salute Basilica, Venice
Oy oi oi, I’m not even Catholic. (Salute Basilica, Venice)
Venice
If these wings worked, I could fly away. (Venice)
Bologna
It was worse before they put up the pigeon spikes. (Bologna)
Bologna
This is not the worst job in Bologna. Really.
Rome
If I could get down from here, I’d show you who’s king of the forest.
Rome
You wonder why I look demented? I have to spout water all day. (Rome)
Rome
My brother over there is demented. I just need a cigar. (Rome)
Rome
I just think of it as puking on you. (Rome)
Rome
Where’s my incisor? (Rome)
Rome
Ack. (Rome)
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No, I’m fine. Really. Yep. Really. Happy lion. More meds, please. (Rome)
Big Puffy Bunnies

Big Puffy Bunnies

Two-story air-filled white rabbits are decorating Capitalism Central—an area near the World Trade Center in downtown Manhattan. Oh the metaphors you could draw from that, but instead, here are some photos of the seven giant bunnies. The art installation is called Intrude, by Amanda Parer. It is at the Brookfield Center—formerly The World Financial Center—on the Hudson River for just a week.

Click on an image to enlarge it, and you can scroll through them all and see the captions.
Easter Parade, 5th Avenue

Easter Parade, 5th Avenue

Here are some of the fantastic people (and one rabbit) who caught my eye. Click on an image to enlarge it, and you can scroll through them all.