John Mahoney

Miles and miles of miles and miles

MUSQUODOBOIT, NS | It's a long, twisty haul from Port Hastings to Mosquito Bob -- miles and miles of scraggly-tree-lined miles and miles, interspersed with strong evidence of hard-scrabble living and occasional glimpses of scenic ocean coves and bays.

They call it the Marine Drive and you'll slide through settlements with names like Ecum Secum and Necum Teuch.

Art and Judy were encouraged not to miss Ecum Secum by an acquaintance back home in Northampton, MA. Art plans on punching him out the next time they meet.

It was some shabby. Small and ugly also work.

Highlights of our hours-long motoring experience on bad roads include:

Using the World's Nastiest, Fly-ridden Roadside Outhouse, located on a lovely picnic area provided by the Province of Nova Scotia.

Not eating -- other than a single ice cream cone -- at the World's Crummiest Little Roadside Cafe.

Narrowly escaping Terminal Foul Play out of Ecum Secum at the hands of characters right out of The Beans of Egypt, Maine.

Okay, so I'm stretching the possibility of death by torture and dismemberment and eventual cannabalism at the free roadside scarecrow place, but the hand-painted invitation to step into Aunt Mary's Place, and the unshaven, beer-drinking Neanderthals hanging out around the pickup truck in the back yard discouraged us from continuing our visit.

However, Grandma's Foibles B&B, owned by Caroline and Glen, is terrific. A tiny problem with the water -- they say many B&Bs have had to close because of water scarcity this summer.

These folks bought an old place that once served as a rest stop on the Boston Post Road, gutted it, and lovingly rebuilt it from the basement up.

They offer two splendid double rooms, with bath, and breakfast. Caroline's fixing mine right now as I write this report and sip her coffee.

Last night the four of us celebrated the 42nd anniversary of the Silver Fox and Hisself at the Lake & Shore Family Restaurant and Coin Laundry.

I had fried chicken and today will attempt to secure a six pack of the hard cranberry juice Jane had last night. Hell, cranberry juice is good for you and at seven percent alcohol content, it ought to provide one hell of a health benefit.

I feel like the last of Barrett's Privateers this humid morning in Mosquito Bob, except we made Sherbrooke yesterday, will make Halifax today, and I still have both of me legs.

Later...

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