Richmond VA

I am aware that it is a while since I last wrote something here and I think it is because it takes me a while to become inspired by a city. Please don't misunderstand me, Richmond is not an uninspiring place, quite the contrary, but after the daily sensory explosion that was Antigonish and the Canadian east coast it has been harder to motivate myself to get out and look around. Last week I decided enough was enough and that it was time to get out of the sprawl, and so I called up my good friend 'Poncho' Nik and asked him to join me on a trip out west to the Appalachian foothills and Shenandoah National Park. I hadn't seen Nikolai since Rochester and it was good to catch up, with me sharing stories of Arizona and Nova Scotia and Nik talking me through the Spring Collection of hooded rain protection (expected out in early 2011). It was supposed to be a relatively short trip, estimated to be about 2 hours by Tom, our enthusiastic, but somewhat useless Satellite Navigator. Nikolai decided however, that he would turn Tom off whilst we were still an hour away from our destination, and using his instinct instead tried to guide us on his own route. Perhaps he was having a Luke Skywalker moment, "Let go Nik, stretch out with your feelings....feel the Force flow through you". Evidently the only thing flowing through him was the sweet tea he had

been drinking from a
preposterously large can, because it wasn't until we had driven for an extra 30 minutes in the wrong direction, stopped to use the bathroom and turned Tom back on, that we eventually found ourselves at our destination an hour later than planned. Nikolai redeemed himself by buying me lunch and a coffee and then planning our route for an afternoon hike. We opted for a circular hike because I hate the feeling that you have to turn back at some point on a straight path and do the same bit again, it seems to take the excitement out of it. After lunch we headed out to find the trail and before long Nikolai told me to pull the car over and we began our hike. The ground was very uneven with tree roots popping out here and there through the red and yellow leaves which were crunching under-foot and glistening in the brilliant sunlight pouring through the gaps in the canopy overhead. Although it was a beautifully bright day it was the coldest I had been since I was in Poland in March, but it didn't take long to warm up with Nik leading at a brisk pace and the pathway heading slowly further into the valley: sometimes on mellow winding curves and other times on quick steep slopes.

The map we had was highly inadequate and although we checked it at regular intervals, neither of us had a clue where we were. It wasn't until we had walked for a good 50 mins that we were certain we were not on the circular walk we had planned, but on a straight path leading out into the wilderness. Technically it was only the same distance back again only this time it was all up hill. Why do I always find myself in these situations with the wrong footwear? After showing they were thoroughly useless for protecting my ankles in Arizona they really should have been the last thing I wore on a hike, but there they were, the long suffering Nike Air max trainers wrapped around each of my feet like a pair of marshmallow moccasins. It was my lungs and leg muscles though, and not the trainers that were finding the uphill hike the biggest struggle and while the younger, and somewhat cocky Nikolai bounced up the slope with an irritating boyishness, I lumbered up, swaying from side to side and grabbing onto each tree as if it were the mast of a ship in a severe storm. An hour later we saw the road ahead which meant that we had finally arrived at the car, where we celebrated with a satsuma and a bottle of water and I sat to recover. On our way out of the park we sighted a small white-tailed deer in the trees, followed up by a bear cub
bounding up the road towards us, before turning quickly and heading into the woods, but not before stopping to look back over its shoulder at us. It was quite a wonderful moment. The journey back was uneventful and quite pleasant, listening to music supplied by Nikolai and enjoying the exquisite colours of the trees throughout this part of Virginia. We arrived in Richmond just before sunset and had the happy fortune to witness a spectacular natural phenomena. There were thousands upon thousands of starlings swirling and diving overhead in large clouds, now in tight formation, now spreading out over the sky. It really was completely mesmerising. I took my camera out of the boot and tried to take some pictures, but I quickly realised it was pointless. The light was awful and without experiencing the movement and changes in direction, the whole show would have been a waste, so I just looked up and enjoyed the poetry of it all.

From just over my shoulder I heard a loud splat and a harsh polish expletive which brought me back to where I was and I saw that Nikolai

had been very unfortunate,

with the bird scoring
a direct hit in the eyeball of my now fallen comrade. As you know I am not one to laugh

at the misfortune of others, but I made an exception in this case and howled until my belly hurt. Nik used what was left of our bottled water to flush the unpleasantness from his eye and I took him home, with him complaining of his bad luck. If there was ever a need for a hooded plastic cape, that was it.

N.B: See if you can spot the little Cardinal camouflaged amongst the autumn leaves in the third photo from the bottom. I was so excited I finally got to see one as it was the one bird I wanted to see in Arizona, but didn't. On our last night in Richmond Whitney and I witnessed the starlings at their evening air show from our balcony. I was able to take the few photos of them swirling past the moon and dancing in front of the building which was also reflecting the sunset.

A Whirlwind Tour of Nova Scotia

It is my Dad's birthday this week so I thought for a special treat I would allow him to hang out with me and pay for everything. He didn't know this of course until it was time to pay for something and I had to employ the 'Joel Pott Manoeuvre of Forgotten Wallets', an effective move I learned from my brother-in-law and one far less embarrassing and time consuming than the 'National Union of Students Technique' where you swipe one maxed-out credit card after another until the other person offers to pay, partly out of pity, but mostly from a shared sense of humiliation.

My Dad flew from London to Halifax, jumped on the coach to Antigonish and arrived in the centre of St. Francis Xavier university, basking in the unusually warm autumnal sunlight. We went home, ate dinner and relaxed. Dad looked exhausted after his long journey, and as we had all week to catch up and explore Nova Scotia I did what any loving son would do, and took him out to a cold beach until 1 o' clock in the morning to take pictures of the stars. He took this quite well actually, even though we missed both turnings to the beach, narrowly avoided killing a racoon and almost careered off the road when I tried to take a sharp bend at twice the speed limit (accidentally of course). This was my second

unsuccessful attempt at taking pictures of the night sky and even though it is painstaking and a little tedious I am determined not to give up. Hopefully it will be third time lucky. Perhaps the Good Doctor, my uncle Steve 'podcast' Fossey (click here for a thoroughly informative and enjoyable insight into the world of astronomy - http://www.brightclub.org/) will accompany me on a night time excursion and show me how it is done.

Dad and I tried to see as much of Antigonish and the surrounding area as we could, using my tried and tested method of driving around and stopping to take photos whenever we saw something worth stopping for. I had imagined we would do a bit of hiking and exploring on foot as we used to when I was younger, but it soon became evident that hiking had been Mum's influence and that Dad had never been a fan. Perhaps it is merely old age catching up on him as I did become a little worried when, on our first excursion he slipped on a small rock we were climbing over and took at least three minutes to recover. Maybe I am being a little harsh as his shoes were probably not designed for such activities, I mean a slim toed ankle boot with a cuban heel has hardly been the preferred footwear of climbers over the years. Lack of walking and the relentless rain did not however stop our intrepid fashionistas, who preferring the comfort of their vehicle decided to veer from the tarmac on many an occasion and explore the landscape off-road. Sometimes this led us to some remote lake or bird inhabited marsh land, other times it led to my Dad screaming like a girl and begging me to turn back for fear we would be stuck in the wilderness. Either way I enjoyed myself thoroughly and if my Dad is honest with himself (and he does always try to be honest) he enjoyed the thrill too.

I made sure Dad was able to sample the local food, starting with an eggs benedict on atlantic lobster on day one and finishing with the legendary McLobster on the final day. Dad loves to immerse himself in the culture and so after visiting Walmart and trying A&W poutine (chips, gravy and cheese curd to you English readers) I thought I would treat him to the Canadian Holy Grail: Tim Hortons. Tim's or Timmy's, as it is known nationwide, is a coffee shop. Yes, this is all. Do not be tricked or fooled by Canadians who claim that it is in some way more than this, that perhaps it is a place that brews a heavenly beverage previously unknown to human kind, or that it is perhaps the answer to World debt or the catalyst for peace in our time. It is none of these things. In fact it is a place that brews a mediocre coffee at best and that proudly exclaims on the signs outside that it is "always fresh". Surely this is the bare minimum for coffee purchased at a coffee shop, it is not really much of a claim is it? It may be true, but it doesn't really give the customer any information about the taste of the coffee. A more useful and, dare I say it, accurate sign would read, "always weak" or "always disappointing" or even "always leaving you with the taste of tobacco and old boots". I am aware that by saying these things I may be putting my Canadian Residency Application in severe jeopardy or perhaps risking a backlash from my in-laws, who may as a punishment force feed me Tim Bits (small, dry, round doughnuts) without a glass of water to wash them down with, or worse even, with a large double-double from Timmy's. Needless to say, Dad was not impressed and came to the same conclusion Whitney and myself came to years ago, that McDonald's coffee is in another league altogether.

We clocked up the miles over the week and visited so many different places that I couldn't remember where we had been until I looked back over the photographs. It had been a busy, but fantastic week with Dad and I miss him already. I think he enjoyed it too, and perhaps developed as much of a love for photography as I have. He seems to have an eye for it and not an inconsiderable amount of skill either. I look forward to adventures with him in the future.

Cape Breton Highlands

Nova Scotia is a beautiful place

and it really reminds me of home. This is a little strange as I grew up in the city surrounded by buildings, traffic and noise and Nova Scotia has very little of any of these. Perhaps now that I am far from home I have begun to associate myself with the British Isles as a whole, with London being just a part of it. The weather here is very similar too. Even though we were promised blue skies and sunshine we were in fact given nothing of the sort. This didn't ruin the day, but it certainly

made it more

challenging especially when I had my camera out. The drive to Cape Breton was supposed to take between two and three hours, although google maps doesn't always take road quality into consideration, as on this occasion and the drive took just over four hours. At the park entrance I was greeted by a very friendly lady who commented on my lovely accent, which is something I never get tired of hearing. Sadly I couldn't repay the compliment as she had the strangest voice I have ever heard. I had been warned that the Newfoundland accent was strange by some Canadian friends, but I heard one the other day and it was indistinguishable from a Connacht Irish accent and not strange in the least (not to me anyway). I had heard the French Canadian accent, and although different from real french it wasn't particularly note worthy. This lady however, had a voice the like of which I have never heard. It was a mixture of canadian, french and an extremely bad dutch/swedish accent you might hear from an actress on a Channel 5 soap playing a scandinavian nanny (the fact that I didn't distinguish between Dutch and Swedish should help you to imagine how poor the acting would have to be). I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting with laughter. I am really not trying to be cruel, I love different accents and I even loved the quirkiness of this one, though it wasn't even slightly pleasant to the ear, I am merely trying to portray how comical it sounded.

As we began our drive along the coast it became evident just how badly wrong the weathermen had been. Huge waves were beating the shores and rocky outcrops and we could hear the wind swirling around the car, a few times I had to steer into it so as not to be blown into oncoming traffic. I was looking for a good point to photograph the shore and the rolling hills that crested the cliffs when I saw a car pulled into a viewing area. I quickly pulled in next to it only to see that the driver had his bonnet up (the 'hood' to you North American readers). Before I could drive away he had signalled for me to roll down my window, which I begrudgingly did, and asked me for a jump start. I tried not to look too disappointed about having to step out into a raging storm and duly assisted him. He was very grateful and we both continued on our way. The rain was off and on, almost exactly like a light switch. The sky was dark and gloomy one minute,

bright blue the next, rainy then sunny, windy then calm, cold but alas it was never warm. It certainly made for some interesting photographs. I have pictures taken from the same spot only minutes apart and you wouldn't believe they were taken on the same day let alone in the same 5 minutes.

I had big plans to see Moose on our travels, with Cape Breton highlands boasting five of the beasts in every square kilometre (it is like a mile but not as long, for our American guests), although I fear they are afraid of rain and went into hiding. Perhaps on our next trip I will see them. There wasn't much in the way of viewing wildlife actually, although that might be because we never really left the vehicle, often stopping with the window

wound down to take a photo and then speeding off to another location. It was actually quite fun and led to me being quite productive, although I did feel rather lazy and wondered

whether I shouldn't try and use

my legs a little more in the future.

Antigonish and the McLobster

Leaving Arizona was indeed as sad as expected. The weather, the people, the wildlife and the wilderness will all be dearly missed, but the adventure must continue. So on to Canada and Nova Scotia's self styled 'Ocean Playground'. Not really sure about that name as there doesn't seem to be much playing going on, it is mostly just Lobster catching right now. Perhaps that is the most fun that can be had

around here. Perhaps that is the most fun to be had anywhere and I am the fool missing out. I will let you know.
We arrived in Antigonish just in time for lobster season, and we were determined to sample the local produce. Whitney found a little local restaurant called "Lobster Treat" and although the name and decor did not excite me in the least, I am happy to report that the service and the local beer all more than made up for it. The food was of a mixed quality, with the lobster being superb and the over-boiled vegetables bordering on incompetence. The local beer here is called Propeller and it is quite wonderful. We tried the Pale Ale at the restaurant which has a full rounded flavour, crisp with an oaky finish. The Hefeweizen and IPA are also very nice. The Hefeweizen, a wheat beer with strong hints of ripe banana, clove and black pepper was particularly memorable. I am looking forward to trying the Pumpkin Ale out later this month.
Driving through the town is a very pleasant experience, the brightly coloured wooden fronted shops and old world vibe force a smile on your face, even at six in the morning. Something that had me rubbing my tired eyes though, was a big sign above the local McDonalds reading 'McLobster'. Once I had confirmed that I was not seeing things, I firmly decided that I was having that. Not the sign. The McLobster sandwich. Not now. Later obviously. What kind of sicko would eat a

McLobster at 6am?

At 6.15am I was heading out of the drive through with a brown bag containing a wondrously greasy sausage 'n egg McMuffin and a McLobster. Oh, and a baked apple pie that had been thrown in for free because it was one minute out of date. Seriously, that isn't one of my exaggerations. It was one minute out of date. The minute before, Ronald McDonald had deemed it satisfactory to sell, the next he had turned his rosy red nose up at it. It even had the time stamp with the exact minute it was to be sold by. What could possibly have happened in that minute to make it uneatable? Surely even bacteria can't grow that quickly. Had Ronald tested the exact shelf life, to the minute? Was I going to die? These kinds of questions are usually best left unanswered, especially when there is a new McDonalds product in the bag waiting to take its maiden voyage through my intestine.

To be honest (and as you know, I always try to be) the McLobster wasn't that good. I know, I know, You are as surprised as I was, but really it wasn't a winner. Ronald needs to work on it, or perhaps scrap it altogether. I suggest the celery goes. Slap in a cheese slice, some pickles, ketchup and uncannily small pieces of onion, maybe lose the mayo and swap the lobster for a beef patty. A definite winner.

Sorry, I went off on a McTangent. Look at my pictures. They have nothing to do with fast food or beer, but they do show some of the great maritime adventures I have been having.