the road to Peggy's Cove

Here we are in December of all places! So much for my trying to catch up with that first week of November, travels with Connie, within that same month. Our little trips were worth documenting (in my mind) so, with that, here are some vignettes of our

trip to Peggy's Cove on the Saturday evening of November 5

It's a straight trip down our road to the south shore. I had forgotten what a magical road the Lighthouse Route is as we usually take it home at the end of an outing, too dark to really see anything.  After passing some wonderful landmarks I finally thought to pull out my camera, but the light and proximity of things from a moving car wasn't working for me.

After an hour or so, Wally found the somewhat secret entrance to a little public beach where we got out to stretch our legs.

The ocean tide gently washed the shore

The curl of the waves was benign.

I took off immediately from the car to gather myself from the car ride, unaware that Connie also had agenda: to wet her feet in the Atlantic Ocean. Let me tell you, it wasn't warm.

But beautiful, yes it was.

Once we were on the road again, we travelled the inlets along the coast

through towns with beautiful names, evocative of another time

two views of ...

this same stretch of road 

and along somewhat lonely patches,

 coming upon little fishing villages

and the occasional well-to-do patches of bigger homes, often just for vacation.

There were many picturesque opportunities...

but we were on the move

a pretty country home

a quaint country church

a rare old home in a grand style

another country church with a pyramid roofed house like ours in the foreground,

adorned with pumpkins

Now the landscape is starting to show that rocky barrenness tells us we are getting close to our destination

A quintessential old time fishing home

another fishing village

and someone who thought this inlet was photo-worthy

Now we are almost in Peggy's Cove, just past the memorial of the infamous Swissair crash of 1998.

The rocks themselves, left by ancient glaciers, almost seem like memorials themselves.

So much ancient history.

And here we are, our initial sighting of the famous lighthouse

that has attracted millions of visitors over the years.

I will never forget my first visit with Wally, when the waves crashed magnificently on the long spread of rock to the sea.

The rock really sets the scene here, long undulating stretches of it.

The vegetation is hardy, the trees are very old, bonsai in stature.

The red roof of the town church looms closer,

We round another bend...

and I must save the rest for next time.

until then... holding this moment, this unique and only moment...

peace dear ones

 

afternoon at second peninsula park

Good Friday Mornin' to yeh!
Yes, after preparing all these photos of our trip to Second Peninsula Park, I'm a little potty from reliving the experience, not to mention computer weary. But it is so worth it.
I hope you enjoy the ride.

Starting with this funky sign, we  knew we had gone too far.

Lunenburg is only 10 kilometres (that's 6 miles) from Mahone Bay and the road we were looking for is not signed on the Mahone Bay side from which we'd come- just to make life interesting.

So we turned around and soon found First Peninsula Road that let us know Second Peninsula would soon show up. We made our turn and followed a winding road along this peaceful inlet.

This shoreline was so much like our old haunts in Muskoka, Ontario,

a somewhat tamed wild beauty we'd come to love.

I asked Wally to turn around so that I could capture this Raven in a quintessentially northern setting.

There was a LOT of loud screaming going on between it and another one or two hidden from sight,

not far from someone's home. Yikes! That'll spoil the mood.

We carried on around quiet bays

Though many water-edged properties are owned by wealthy people,

it charms me to see these humble old time properties.

another private dock and the road continues its scenic curves

a moored sailboat

Though this is a saltwater inlet, it' rolling hills, spruce, birch and white pine

truly reminds me of Muskoka or Haliburton at least.

a peaceful scene across the water

driving around another little bay

coming into the manicured park, discreetly signed park

With sentimental memories, we find our picnic bench of two years ago,

unoccupied at the end of the steep trail down to the shore

We have a neighbour this time, ensconced in her book, so we speak in hushed tones.

Beyond is a small Inukshuk, the appropriated (and ironic) Inuit message "we were here".

Beyond that, someone swimming, and then the sailboats.

Thankfully there was only one motorboat that went by. When I remarked on how quiet it was, Wally explained to me that it had an inboard motor unlike the outboard motorboats that spoiled so many visits to the lakes years past in Muskoka. (Those days had passed by the time we left five years ago due to a failing economy and higher taxes for those living on the lakes.)

It was, in fact, exquisitely quiet where we planted ourselves and we had our lunch. Wally thought to bring an organic apple/cranberry juice to mix with Perrier which was deliciously decadent.

Afterwards we took out our watercolour pads and palettes and set to work playing,

with this exquisite scene to rest our eyes on

.

This is the life

for some people

Two Ships in the Night

Oops, I mean

Two Boats in the Light

closer

We watched a sailboat motor in to its little motorboat, the second mate reaching for its line.

They took the little boat to the public dock where their truck was waiting. That's 3 motors for their afternoon holiday. That struck me as odd somehow.

Look what I found in the woods behind us! An honest to goodness Toadstool!

Mr. Snail close by

one of a few clamshells left behind by a seagull I'm guessing

over my shoulder the rock and windblown trees

down the Shore with the ocean proper not nearly in sight

the dock beyond where those sailboaters left from

two moss adorned trees, spruce I think, a little worse for wear.

Wally informs me it is lichen that hangs from the branches, not moss.

Their roots exposed where the soil has eroded, they stretch out for yards on either side.

more roots amid the growth of sea plants

With the tide out, little seaweeds cling to their moorings.

The tide gently laps its way out

so gently that you can see a good way into the clear water

As it comes in, it gently ripples, swaying the hinged seaweed with it.

It's good to see Wally unwind, here with his watercolour seascape that he splashed with seawater to see if the salt would make a difference. (It didn't.)

Squinting in the sun, I didn't wander too far from our "home base" as the shore was so rocky and I have a huge respect for rock against bone.

squinty, happy me

While still holding the camera, Wally took his traditional One Shot a Year.

Come Again

sometime

And just because...

I could have shown you earlier as they were made a week ago when I was still floundering.

I figured I owed myself a play date.

I brushed some of my new Jane Davenport acrylic paints into sections on the page and filled each coloured box with a different something or other.

It really amounts to doodling with paint. A matte acrylic is very compatible with paint pens and ink as you can see.

I learned from my squirrel picture, that I showed you yesterday, 

that a little white paint pen can take a picture out of the doldrums.

Thanks again for coming along with me. My day trip pictures will need one more installment.

But I think, for now, we've earned a rest.

kindness first