Usually when I travel, I’m hurrying around everywhere, frantically sketching as many things as humanly possible (since I often travel alone, I can get away with this!). But when I travel with a friend, sometimes it’s nice to just sit for a spell and capture the moment. Because for me, that’s the best thing about having a travel companion: having the experience together.
I’m sure this place is just crawling with tourists in the summer, but on the October evening I was there, it was just me, my sketchbook, and a nice slice of history.
Now, Texas might be home to an outlandish vehicle or two, it’s true, but at least it was in keeping with the whole Texas theme. In Nova Scotia’s fishing villages, you’re more likely to see boats “parked” behind houses than cars. Since it took me three times as long to drive to this spot as sailing would have done—well, it’s not hard to see why.
Just in case Paul Bunyan is looking to trade up… I think I found just the thing.
To continue this week’s bridge theme, let’s head north and check out a couple of Canadian feats of engineering. These two bridges have very little in common with one another—except that they both kind of gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I think the main thing was the sheer distances spanned here, by two relatively skinny structures. In the case of the Confederation Bridge that connects Prince Edward Island to the mainland, the span is eight miles long. That’s comparable to some of the wider stretches of salt water in Washington state, but thanks to the water depth here, you won’t find bridges like that around my neck of the woods. So even though the crossing to PEI took just a few minutes, it felt like traversing a little ocean.
And as for the world’s longest covered bridge? Well, now that was freaky. And creaky. And saggy. And rattly. And…well…long. It took me almost as long to walk across the Hartland Bridge and back as it did to drive the Confederation Bridge—plenty of time to freak out a little bit. (My fear of heights didn’t help, either.)
But you already know I have a major thing for covered bridges. Heck, I’d already crossed the entire province of New Brunswick just to see this one thing. This was definitely not the moment to chicken out.
You know how much I love drawing houses—and Prince Edward Island seemed to be the pretty-farmhouse capital of the world. There were so many, in fact, that it was hard not to spend my entire vacation sketching houses. So this was the only way I could think of to save room in my sketchbook for drawings of other things…
With all the travel and sketching this year held, it’s hard to believe it’s still 2013. This year gave me 62 days out of town (a new record!) and many dozens of drawings—and best of all, brought me to both coasts. And while it feels a little like a blur when I look back on the year as a whole, I love how sketching helps keep so many individual memories intact. That’ll come in handy, as it’ll be time to start filling 2014’s sketchbooks any time now.
I can’t wait to see what those pages will hold!
Okay, I just have to say it: I usually have mixed feelings about historical reenactments—even the best ones. While I love the idea of immersing myself in a time and place, costumed interpreters (for all their talents and lovely enthusiasm) tend to bug the heck out of me. I don’t know what it is, but all my little tricks and skills for remaining inconspicuous while sketching just fly right out the window at these places. Without fail, the reenacters find me, notice me, and interact with me, when all I wanted to do was disappear and sketch. “Ah! Good lady! I see you are preparing an engraving—” Yeah, yeah. Whatever, that’s nice. If you need me, I’ll be hiding behind this here cannon.
For all my grumpiness (and, in this case, reluctance to reveal my paltry, rusty French), it’s awfully good fun to sketch in a place like that. And I think I may have found the solution to my interpreter-phobia: visit on a bitterly cold weekday, in the off-season, just after a big tour bus of cruise ship passengers leaves for the day.
And that’s how I got to have the entire, enormous village of Louisbourg to myself for a whole afternoon.
I was first drawn to Louisbourg (no pun intended) because I found out that this year marked the settlement’s 300th anniversary. As there aren’t too many places in our little New World that can boast that kind of longevity, it felt somehow important to take part in that, even in my small way.
But also, Louisbourg was incredibly out of the way for me on this trip—it required almost a full day’s diversion to get there and back. Its location on the remote Atlantic shore of Cape Breton made it truly feel like an outpost of civilization (which, of course, it was)—and that’s saying something, as I’d just come from the Cabot Trail. So getting there felt like an accomplishment, like I’d somehow earned a merit badge for my journey.
Either way, all my shyness aside, it felt like I’d had my own private, self-guided tour of the past—and that’s well worth a detour.
This is my favorite time of year—the air is crisp, the leaves are golden, there are pumpkins everywhere, and tomorrow is Halloween. And as the icing on the cake, today happens to be my birthday. (I can tell you, there are few things more delightful than getting to blow out candles in a Halloween costume every year…) Wishing you a day filled with fun tricks and tasty treats tomorrow—happy Halloween!
Well, okay, my visit missed the actual Celtic Colours music festival by a couple of days (sad but true). But even a short two days on Cape Breton gave me a nice taste of the Celtic heritage of the island—
—as well as a panorama of stunning autumn color, absolutely everywhere I looked.
If that’s not a good consolation prize, I don’t know what is.
