I had advertised on the bulletin board for riders but got no queries. End of season, I supposed. And not many people wanted to go back to Quebec. P and J announced that they were leaving Halifax. After some quick thinking, I decided to check out too. There wasn't much to see in Halifax and what there was I reckoned I could do in a day.
I decided to change some US currency at a bank and immediately ran into a problem. They wouldn't take $100 bills because they were worried about forgeries. I tried a few banks without any luck. Bummer! I really hated Nova Scotia now. I wondered what to do. Well I had enough money to last for a couple of days but I would have to pay for petrol with a credit card. I could get a cash advance on plastic if necessary. But the idea of the money sitting in my pocket useless was infuriating.
I decided to at least see the Grand Pre Historic Park. This is where the Arcadians built up an agricultural district on marshland using dykes and drainage before they were expelled by the British for not taking an oath of loyalty to the crown. They were just farmers who wanted no part of politics but as usual, little people get caught in between.
It was a dreary day. Wentworth hostel is not far from Halifax so I was in no hurry. I took the coastal road to try to see the Bay of Fundy, which has one of the largest tidal variations in the world. The bay faces north south and the funnel amplifies the incoming tides. I saw some coastal marshland which smelt bad and showed signs of large tidal variations, but I guess I was there at the wrong time of day.
Driving in dreary weather was tiring. It was the sort of day when you think the world will end with a whimper instead of a bang. All around nothing is happening, and you don't really care even if anything did.
The hostel handbook said that there was a grocery store on the main road, or at least I infered that. There, I must have just passed it. I went on for another couple of km, just to see if I could spot the town but there wasn't one. Wentworth was simply this slightly denser group of houses. I got bread, milk, mashed potatoes and luncheon meat at the grocery store. The hostel was up on a little hill. There were several cars and some children playing. Pretty crowded for the end of season I thought. There were indications that the hostel was used as a ski lodge in winter, like the notice about boots. Eventually it turned out that the people were biologists, on a specimen collecting trip. They were from museums from all over. I was the only other hosteller. It was a boring night. I used up the last aerogram and curled up with a book.
I decided to change some US currency at a bank and immediately ran into a problem. They wouldn't take $100 bills because they were worried about forgeries. I tried a few banks without any luck. Bummer! I really hated Nova Scotia now. I wondered what to do. Well I had enough money to last for a couple of days but I would have to pay for petrol with a credit card. I could get a cash advance on plastic if necessary. But the idea of the money sitting in my pocket useless was infuriating.
I decided to at least see the Grand Pre Historic Park. This is where the Arcadians built up an agricultural district on marshland using dykes and drainage before they were expelled by the British for not taking an oath of loyalty to the crown. They were just farmers who wanted no part of politics but as usual, little people get caught in between.
It was a dreary day. Wentworth hostel is not far from Halifax so I was in no hurry. I took the coastal road to try to see the Bay of Fundy, which has one of the largest tidal variations in the world. The bay faces north south and the funnel amplifies the incoming tides. I saw some coastal marshland which smelt bad and showed signs of large tidal variations, but I guess I was there at the wrong time of day.
Driving in dreary weather was tiring. It was the sort of day when you think the world will end with a whimper instead of a bang. All around nothing is happening, and you don't really care even if anything did.
The hostel handbook said that there was a grocery store on the main road, or at least I infered that. There, I must have just passed it. I went on for another couple of km, just to see if I could spot the town but there wasn't one. Wentworth was simply this slightly denser group of houses. I got bread, milk, mashed potatoes and luncheon meat at the grocery store. The hostel was up on a little hill. There were several cars and some children playing. Pretty crowded for the end of season I thought. There were indications that the hostel was used as a ski lodge in winter, like the notice about boots. Eventually it turned out that the people were biologists, on a specimen collecting trip. They were from museums from all over. I was the only other hosteller. It was a boring night. I used up the last aerogram and curled up with a book.
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