The last leg of our great adventure took us to Saint John, New Brunswick, and Halifax, Nova Scotia. I felt like a celebrity entering the Port of Saint John. Ambassadors from the city presented flowers to the ladies and lapel pins to the men. A congenial corps of volunteers directed us to the gateway of a clean and green city. There was no roadside litter or graffiti to mar the landscape. Elementary and middle school students painted the city walls with murals of land, sea, and sky. Students of all ages had worked to adorn pathways and medians with a variety of flowers.
A young, red-haired lady was our tour bus operator. She was an Irish encyclopedia of the origins of the city. Saint John is named for John the Baptist, but may have moved away from some of its hallowed beginnings. The town square houses a life-sized bronze moose in honor of its hometown brewery, Moosehead. That isn’t all that gives this city of 70,000 a checkered past; one of their residents was Benedict Arnold. Our lovely guide explained that it took Ben eight years to realize nobody ever really liked him before he left. Residents boast proudly of native sons, Donald Sutherland and Walter Pidgeon.
Our tour guide completed her slate of famous folks to show us the Saint John River flow upstream. This event takes place twice daily at the Bay of Fundy. The tidal fluctuations put water into a spin that would make the lonely Maytag man envious.
Soon it was time to trade one port city for another. We sailed into Halifax to the sound of the Halifax Citadel Regimental Association’s bagpiper. His expert rendition of “Amazing Grace” brought tears. The Halifax Citadel’s Historic site houses this talented regiment.
Our excursion of choice was to Peggy’s Cove, a small fishing village an hour’s drive from Halifax. This small artists’ colony is home to an extraordinary lighthouse perched on a smooth granite ledge that pierces the ocean. The wind was whipping at a pace of 30 knots (35 mph), producing curls of white foam in the air. There are two versions of how Peggy’s Cove got its name. One legend is that a girl named Peggy was the sole survivor of a shipwreck and settled into the area, not wanting to hop another ship for home. The second and more logical story is that St. Margaret’s Bay was shortened to Peggy’s Cove for the convenience of mapmakers. Whatever the story, the splendor of the area is unmatched. Artists yearn for such a landscape to paint.
The most prized possession of our trip is a painting of “Peggy’s Point Light” by an artist fortunate enough to live in this small village. Our excellent adventure began on storm tossed seas, but the serenity of a lighthouse named Peggy remains at the pinnacle of our cruise memories.
White foam curls Peggy's Cove - Halifax