SATURDAY, JUNE 1st (continued)

      Halifax International Airport is some 21 miles outside the town and the only international flight out tonight in addition to our Air Canada flight to London (Heathrow) is an Iceland Air flight to Reykjavik. Soon, and on time, it was the moment to leave "this fair land" of Canada, as a Canadian friend described it in an e-mail later, hoping we had arrived home safely. Fair, indeed, it was. The holiday had given us great opportunities to see its diverse landscapes and experience the friendliness of its diverse people. We had passed through eight of its ten provinces, and, for me personally, it has afforded the chance to be reminded that I can still chat fairly fluently in French, as we experienced the particular contribution to Canadian history of its French-speaking population in Quebec.

SUNDAY, JUNE 2nd:

    A night flight usually offers the possibility of some sleep, even if not in the most comfortable posture, and this proved to be the case, making the five and a half hour flight pass relatively quickly. Indeed, time-wise, it seemed not much longer than some flights to parts of Europe. A display in the Halifax Tourist Office proclaimed that Halifax Airport is the closest international airport in North America to Heathrow! The girl next to me on the flight was on her first (very short) visit to Europe. She has several hours in London to tour the main sights before her ongoing journey to Zambia, via Johannesburg, to do a month's voluntary work with an NGO.

   Our arrival in Heathrow was even a little early and at the luggage carousel it was time to say our goodbyes to the members of our tour group of twenty eight and our tour manager Peter. It had been a really good group to travel with: no difficult people nor people who were always late. We had shared food, fun and laughter and more sombre times, as when we walked amongst the graves of the victims of the Titanic. For some reason, I am always reminded, when such groups part, of a line in the leavers' hymn at the school I attended: "though never more in one place all may gather". The farewells and thanks were sincerely meant as we went our several ways. Hopefully some friendships made will be able to be continued.

    Robert and I walked from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1 and checked in for our ongoing flight on Virgin to Manchester for which we had a three hour wait. There was ample time to wander round the shops and also to people-watch at one of the busiest airports in the world as folk from across the world pass through its concourses. Our short flight to Manchester, with, as it happened, the same cabin crew as we had had on our outward flight, passed quickly and we landed at 1.50pm in warm sunny weather. There being engineering work on the rail line up to Bolton, we were bussed to Bolton station and from there caught the 3.35pm train to Chorley. Tom Simpson again kindly picked us up from the station and we arrived in the house, safe and sound and full of good memories at 4.15pm. Incidentally, another memory of this very day took me back sixty years to Coronation Day, June 2nd 1953, when the Stubbings side of the family gathered at an aunt's house to watch the day's events on a ten inch television screen, the only one possessed at that time by anyone in the family. Who would have thought then of all the possibilities of travel that I have been grateful to have in the years since, this trip to Canada being the latest, and, hopefully, not the last

SATURDAY, JUNE 1st:

     Skype buzzed at 4.05am when a friend in the UK didn't know we were here and was thinking we were back home! Still we managed to get back to sleep and didn't rush to get up. We went across the road to the cafeteria and had porridge - a bowl that was certainly not small. 

    We packed and went out and had a walk around near the Governor's residence and St Paul's Church, which was sadly closed to visitors on a Saturday. Outside we met two priests who turned out to be Roman Catholics and chatted with them. They pointed out their bishop across the road and they were all in Halifax to discuss the formation, of a new diocese. 

     We chose then to spend the bulk of our time in the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. Of greatest interest was the Titanic exhibition with artifacts from the ship and many stories of human interest from that dreadful night. Equally poignant was an exhibition layout the Halifax Explosion that took place on December 6th 1917 when two ships collided in the Narrows and the subsequent explosion of munitions on one of them flattened much of Halifax leading to the deaths of two thousand people and leaving nine thousand people injured. The event and the number of people and buildings destroyed ranks second only to Hiroshima in devastations caused by explosion.

     We had lunch in the middle of our visit at a nearby cafe which several of our group were patronising. 

      Then it was a case of wiling away the hours until 8pm when the bus came to take us to the airport. Bit by bit the group gathered in the hotel foyer and duly on time the bus arrived and drove first to the Holiday Inn to deposit Iain who is staying there overnight and flying to Glasgow tomorrow on his way back to Orkney. 

     

FRIDAY, MAY 31st:

  Our day was to be a full one: an excursion along the Novia Scotia coastline south west of Halifax, often known as the Blue Nose Coast. The  epithet comes from the colour of the dye that the fishing wives would use  when they knitted mittens for their husbands. When the fisherman wiped his nose, the dye would come off, hence the "blue nose".

   Our driver was Daphne, an amazing character. She was as tall as she was broad, had spent a few years as driving a "slinky", an eighteen wheel lorry, and also a few years as as school bus driver. This was all out of necessity, having been widowed young with two young children. Her voice was as loud as a foghorn, so certainly the bus microphone was not needed! She had a great sense of humour and kept is entertained throughout!

   Our first stop was Peggy's Cove, a delightful fishing village, reminiscent of Cornwall or Norway. There are now only about 35 residents, but many visitors. Sadly, it gained notoriety in 1998 when a Swiss Air flight with 221 passengers came down in the sea nearby on a flight from New York to Geneva. It was a joy to wander around it in the time available.

    Our bus journey continued through lovely coastal scenery with  neat wooden houses and manicured gardens. In the most desirable locations house costs rose to over a million dollars. 

    At length we came to Lunenburg, the town plan laid out by the British in the mid 1700s when they were eager for another settlement loyal to the crown. They then offered the land to Protestant settlers from Germany and Switzerland. Although they were mainly farmers they soon turned their hand to shipbuilding and fishing. The beauty of the town was shown when Lunenburg was declared a World Heritage Site. We couldn't really visit Nova Scotia without having lobster at some point. This was the day! We enjoyed a superb lobster lunch and were given the usual plastic bib, crackers, and scalpel to deal with it. Several other members of the group chose the same restaurant and we had a great view overlooking the sea coast.

    On then to Mahone Bay where Daphne parked the bus lob the outskirts and we had a leisurely stroll along the road through the town with its three steeples. There was the opportunity to have an ice cream - well appreciated!

     We drove on to Chester, again, a pretty coastal town with an interesting memorial to Norwegian seamen killed during the war as they helped with convoys.

      It was on our return to Halifax when our tour became an adventure! Soon after getting on the highway the alternator on the bus failed and we all got out on the roadside and waited for the best part of half an hour before a relief bus arrived. History was to repeat itself when the relief bus failed as we arrived at the Titanic graves in the outskirts of Halifax and a third bus had to be summoned! In the cemetery there were 121 graves of people drowned when the ship went down and their bodies were brought back to Halifax. It was a moving and somber walk along the lines looking at the gravestones and their inscriptions. They included the one of the unknown child whose name was in 2010 determined to be Sydney Goodwin.

     The third bus got us back to the hotel safe and sound!

For our evening snack we again went over the the Waterfront Warehouse where we had a pleasant time sharing the tables with Anthony and Alan, David and Jackie. Good food, good company, good conversation!