Sheet Harbour and Sherbrooke Village, Nova Scotia

586

09 October 2010

R. Linda:

The night before we left Halifax, there was an "incident" in our room. It had to be around 3 a.m. when I was awoken by a sound. My eyes adjusted to the darkness but just before they did, I happened to see (in me blurry state) movement at the foot of the bed. Once I could see, what I saw set me heart to a fast beat. The shape was human and it was a mass of darkness moving clumsily. Was our room truly haunted? I went to wake Tonya but I was trying to be covert so as not to have the apparition suddenly vanish. I poked her sleeping self with me elbow but no reaction. Gees, I thought, she was in a deep sleep.

The ghost at the foot of the bed was moving about as if trying to find its way. I watched in heart-pounding terror for a minute before I sat up in bed. And just as I did the light went on! Talk about a climax into total horror, I jumped out of bed at the sight of . . . wait for it . . . me very own Tonya!

I looked at the bed and what I nudged was her pillow, no wonder there was no reaction, dummy me!

"WHAT . . . JUST WHAT . . . " was all I could shout.

"Shuush, you'll wake the entire house! I guess I was sleepwalking," she said shrugging.

It was bizarre, she never has done that before, so in my hazy mind I thought she did it on purpose, though, I didn't voice that thought. It was hard to get back to sleep and when I did, I dreamt of things that go bump in me room!

So that morning we left for Sherbrooke Village. We were told this was a place to see, especially if you liked places like Sturbridge, Massachusetts or Williamsburg, Virginia. I figured by the time we got there it would be lunchtime, and we'd have a bite to eat along with the "to die for gingerbread," I had been told about by a lady at my work. So salivating we began our journey that would end us up in Guysborough for the night.

Along the way, we came to Spry Harbour, a quaint place and one we both would have liked to stop and taken in, but our timing to get to Sherbrooke and then our inn (where we had dinner reservations) wouldn't allow it.

But we did stop because the tidal surge at Sheet Harbour was too awesome a sight to pass up. Though I swear since Tonya couldn't give me a heart attack parading as a ghost in our room, she did try to make me meet my maker by telling me to keep backing up, she wanted a picture of me and the water which was flowing extremely violently right behind me.

Here are some pictures of Sheet Harbour, this has got to be the most angry conversion of rivers I've ever seen. Someone told me this is where the Salmon and East and West Rivers meet. It's easy to see how one can be swept away and drowned as the tide comes roaring in. There are no railings and the boardwalk comes very close to the edge of the roiling water. These photos are all taken from the edge of the walkway. By the way, the sound is deafening.

Once we were over the strange beauty of something so violent we pushed on to Sherbrooke Village. It looked deserted as we pulled up the road, but as we got to the parking lot there was a tour bus, a couple of campers and a few cars. Well, this is fine, if the tour was school kids we'd steer clear, if they were seniors, we'd still steer clear. They were seniors.

I was hungry and was told that the tour bus full of senior citizens had taken every table in the restaurant and we'd have to wait until they were finished. Mind you I was famished. All that angry water made me hungry not to mention thirsty. So we wandered about the place which was like a ghost town. All the young people who worked as reenactors had gone back to school and retirees were the only ones left. I much preferred them I must say, because they took time to explain things and show us around, just the two of us. 

Finally, I saw people starting to come out of the restaurant so I pulled Tonya there to see if we could finally have lunch. We had to wait fifteen minutes because there was one woman at the cash register and she also doubled as the woman who cleaned the tables and tripled as the woman who would seat you. Oi! As she'd get one group all paid and out, another would amble up, and I for one wanted to grab a rag and tray and clear and clean, but there was none of that in sight to even set about it. And the wife would have had a fit if I attempted such, so I stood around waiting, and waiting, and wondering why the wait staff of which I think there were only two couldn't do some of this stuff. However, they were still serving food that was slowly being chewed like dentures were implements of torture. I know! I'm being horrible, but I was sooo freaking hungry!

Meanwhile, Tonya said something about the restaurant smelling funny, and out she went to flirt with this guy. I know, I can't take her anywhere!

 

Blacksmith tooling about on a Penny-Farthing Bicycle

I guess the chat was interrupted by some seniors who were waiting to be shown the inside of the smithy so in she came. 

Finally, we were seated and were given menus. The air had a slight nip so we both decided on soup and sandwich, but our waitress decided on soup. As soon as we had said we'd both try the corn chowder, the woman was off taking the menus with her.

"Uh, she took the menus Gabe, so I am assuming we are having a big bowl of $6.00 soup."

That got my attention and as soon as I saw our waitress I summoned her over and told her we wanted sannies as well. She looked at me like I was a nutter. I told her I wanted a cup not a bowl of soup. Well, too late order was in, but she could get us a sandwich. So Ton ordered turkey and since there was no whole wheat (the old people had eaten it all), she had to settle for white as would I. I ordered roast beef but was told, no, no, I was having the other half of the turkey sannie. And off she went.

I was confused. Like WHAT? What do you mean I can't order a whole sandwich and the one I want? Well, Tonya calmed me down, telling me I was getting a bowl of soup and probably wouldn't have room for a whole sandwich. Gees!

So the bowl came and it was gigantic. The sannie came shortly after and on two plates, her half and mine. I tell ya! 

"I think because they cater to old folks, they know they are on fixed incomes so they try to give them as much soup as possible," Tonya said in way of explanation.

"Really? Do I look like a senior to you?" I countered.

"No, but . . . they are just used to this."

"Well, I am still ordering gingerbread," I said not happy. 

The soup was mediocre, the sandwich was lacking in another half but I was determined to have dessert. 

So we ordered two gingerbread cakes with coffee. Now I was told by this woman at me work that the best thing about Sherbrooke Village was this particular cake, so I was primed. It was bloody awful. Me mam makes a better gingerbread! The coffee tasted like dishwater and the place just smelled and that didn't help.

"Where is Chef Ramsay when you need him?" Tonya muttered. "Not only would he revamp the food, but he'd redecorate."

"Well, let's go. Cheryl said this place is a good time, so let's go find the good time," I said to Tonya.

That good time was none existent. Maybe because there was a skeleton staff and not many people, or maybe it was the lacklustre lunch that had disappointed us both, but I did not enjoy the village one bit. I was never so happy when the wife wanted to leave. Here are some pictures for you. Oh by the way we were told we couldn't go into the church there was a funeral that day. So I got a picture BEFORE the funeral. Just thought I'd throw that in to creep you out.

                                                                                 

Private residence

                                                                                   

No clue what this is, probably another private residence

                          

                                                                                        

St. James Presbyterian Church BEFORE the funeral

                                                                                

                                                                                        

Donald MacDonald (I kid you not) Tailor & Clothier

                                                                                       

Greenwood Cottage (some cottage this was our fav)

                                                                                         

The Courthouse

It was a beautiful day but there wasn't much to do, no demonstrations except at the smithy but the smithy was gone to lunch or riding around on his bicycle built for one. We were kind of bored, so we left for Guysborough. And oh what a trip that last leg was! Probably punishment for our old people grumbling.

I had trusted Maudie's directions and she had got us around Halifax with no problem and then onto Sherbrooke same thing. So when I punched in the destination to Guysborough, I figured easy-peasy. Only I didn't know the further north and away from the coast one got, the more dirt or gravel roads there were. I also noticed something a bit unnerving, THERE WERE NO PEOPLE, no petrol stations, no street lights. What there was plenty of was woods, thick dark woods! So I punched in the fastest route, and trusted Maudie and where did she take us? Oh, it was the shortest route, but it was 45 miles of gravel road out in the middle of nowhere! I tell ya after the first ten miles Tonya started to get antsy, and she would shift in her seat indicating that she was starting to get a wee bit stressed. Oh yeah, but nowhere near what we were both becoming by the twentieth mile as the long shadows started to fall.

                                                                                     

We started off like this, not much traffic and yes the roads are pink

                                                                                          

We hit a rain shower as we got further out but it was drying out

                                                                                      

We noticed the woods had no daylight inside them as we turned onto THE road

                                                                                        

THE gravel road that was at least 45 miles long with nothing and no one on it

We did pass a fishing cottage, all boarded up, with no electricity, notta. We made note it was about fifteen miles behind us if we needed a place to shelter for the night. It was a trip!


You don't know how loud we sung the Hallelujah chorus song once we saw pavement.  We sang that until we came to the tiny village of Guysborough and our inn. What was in store for us that night, made that gravel drive well worth it.

Gabe
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