The Roads Less Travelled: Trip of a Lifetime

The Roads Less Travelled: Trip of a Lifetime

"The same blood courses through our veins."
A friend of mine who has no extended family in this country, is envious when I speak of my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, in-laws, out-laws etc. I have a wealth of relatives that certainly adds to the richness of my life. This past month, I made a withdrawal from the family bank—or was that an investment?

The Family Bank: Jeaneology 2013

My sister, Kathy, has been trying for years to organize a tour of back roads around Millstream,NB, home of our cousin Peter Holder who has an abundance of knowledge, a wicked sense of humour and a flair for story-telling. Last week, the tour became a reality. With Peter behind the wheel as driver and tour guide, we knew the trip would be entertaining.

Signage, 2018

The five women who signed up for the tour arrived at Peter’s Millstream home with picnics and great expectations. Peter’s two sisters, Lesley and Sylvia, Peter’s two cousins, Barb and Kathy, and our friend Sue, who claims she would like to be adopted into our family, all piled into Peter’s Dodge van and we hit the road. 

Tour Bus

Of course, Peter knows most people, cows and farms for miles around. And those he doesn’t know, Lesley does. Lesley is married to John, the AI Man (Artificial Insemination Man). Let’s just say, he gets around! Sometimes Lesley goes with him and she could give Siri, Hey Google, GPS and Wikipedia a run for their money.
The conversation in the van would go something like this:
Kathy: “Who lives there, Peter?”
Peter: “Well, I think that’s the Folkins boy. Lesley is that where young Folkins lives?”
Lesley: “No that’s the Pearson farm. The Folkins farm is at Pleasant Ridge."  

With Peter behind the wheel, and Lesley in the very back corner of the van, there was a bit of yelling going on.

Tour Guide and Driver

Our first two forays into actual driveways of Holder cousins brought disappointing results. In both cases several vehicles were parked in the yards, but no-one answered Peter’s rapping at the door. “They’ve got wind of us coming,” Peter suggested when he returned to the Tour Bus. “I imagine they’re crawling on the floor under the windows, hiding,” Lesley added, nodding her head in agreement.

Hiding from The Tour Group

On our third visiting attempt, there were people in the driveway. They could not escape us. Our Tour Guide graciously introduced us to Hoyt and Elizabeth, owners of a meticulous home in Highfield complete with stone fences and woodpiles constructed with mathematical precision.  “We’re on a tour, today. These are my sisters, Lesley and Sylvia, and my cousins, Barb and Kathy.” Sue, award-winning author and all-round wonderful human being, was not mentioned. From her back corner, she attempted to make herself known, but, alas, her feeble, “And I’m Sue White,” was drowned out by the five cousins/sisters/brother all talking at once about Hoyt’s stone fence and remarkable woodpile. 

Susan White, Author of 7 books

Woodpiles became a theme on the trip as were horses, fences, churches, graveyards, rhubarb hills and clotheslines. We must have passed 20 little white churches. Isn’t it interesting what you notice? I was reminded of my mother’s complaints about Sunday drives with my father. “He wants to stop and look at every manure pile in Kings County!”

"Every Manure Pile in Kings County"

We visited several communities including Lower Millstream, Manitoba Road, Collina,  Pearsonville, Highfield, Long Creek, Snider Mountain, Keirstead Mountain, Berwick, Pleasant Ridge, Morgan Hill, Head of Millstream, Perry Settlement, Havelock, Cornhill, Annagance Ridge, Knightville, Mount Pisgah, Plumesweep, Roachville, Berwick, Lower Millstream and Parleeville—in three different counties—Kings, Queens and Westmorland. And this was not just a “fun” trip. There were tests—for example, naming the 15 counties of NB. Can you do it?

Name the 15 Counties of NB

We ate our picnic lunch on the steps of Snider Mountain Baptist Church. Our Aunt Jean, mother of the Holder children, always attended the Remembrance Day Service at this church. Milton Gregg, local Canadian war hero and recipient of the Victoria Cross, is buried in that cemetery. Aunt Jean would encourage other family members to join her at this service to honour the Canadian military in which she served overseas in World War Two. Following the service, she would invite family members back to her house to celebrate her November 4^th birthday. Aunt Jean was not only a veteran, a history buff, and a Royalist, she was also efficient and practical! It made perfect sense to celebrate Remembrance Day and her birthday at the same time! 

Aunt Jean in London, 1945

There are a lot of green rolling hills in this part of the province. According to my research, these are like the “foothills” of the Appalachians and the Caledonia Mountains. We had the honour of meeting 90-year-old Murray Steen, mayor of Snider Mountain, who claims that his mountain is so high, he can leave his driveway, put his car in neutral and coast all the way to downtown Sussex, 25 kilometres away! 

Murray Steen (Mayor) and Peter (Tour Guide)

The countryside is beautiful, fields lush and fertile. At this time of year, the bilberry blossoms are in full bloom and the trees are budding. More Tour Bus Conversation:

Kathy: “What kind of trees are those?”
Barb: “Poplar.”
Kathy: “They are not poplar. They’re maple.”
Barb: “They’re poplar.”
Kathy: “They are not poplar, Barb. They’re maple!”
Barb: “Popple! Poplar!”
Lesley: “I think there’s both. Maple and poplar.”

Poplar or Maple? Barb or Kathy?

As the hours rolled by, definite roles evolved in the Dodge Caravan. Clearly, from the beginning, Peter was Tour Guide and Driver. In addition to her role as encyclopedia of local geography and every farm in three counties, Lesley became the Calm Voice of Reason. She had to intervene on occasion to settle the sibling waters and put a lid on the general hysteria which ramped up from time to time. Kathy, securely buckled in the navigator seat, earned the title General Manager. As the chronicler and photographer of our sojourn, I proudly accepted the title, Public Relations Officer. In the middle seat beside me sat the Highway Safety Officer, Sylvia. And back in the corner sat Sue, struggling to hear and to be heard. She worked tirelessly to earn the title, Cousin-in-Training.  

Tour Guide and General Manager

The Highway Safety Officer took her role very seriously.
“Peter, do you have your signal light on?”
“Oh my God, here comes a bus!”
“Why aren’t there any guardrails up here!?”
“Peter, don’t run over those kids!”
“Oh my God, here comes a dog!”
“Watch this car.”
“What’s wrong, Peter? You’ve got your brakes on.”
“Oh my God, where are you going now?!!!”
“There’s a truck, Peter, and it’s coming pretty friggin’ fast!!!”

By the end of the day, we were all Highway Safety Officers. You could hear a chorus of five women screaming, “Oh my God, Peter, here comes a truck!!”

Highway Safety Officer

The three Holder siblings, Peter, Lesley and Sylvia, were more familiar with the area than the rest of us, of course. It was reassuring to hear the following statements as they got their bearings:
“Oh, we’re right here.”
“I know exactly where I am now.”
“Do I know where we are yet?”
“We’re not in the right place for that house.”

"Oh, we're up here."

Peter is a great storyteller--both the content and the delivery are memorable. There was a story to go with every farm, covered bridge and ditch. Unfortunately, it was difficult for our Cousin-in-Training to hear at the back of the bus. So, every time Peter started a tale, Miss Sue would yell, “What did you say, Peter?” We heard that loud and clear more than a few times. And of course, by the time the rest of us repeated it to her, the relayed message was often wrong. The Quilt Collector became a Quilt Corrector, the Clane Family Farm became the Clang Family Farm, Freeman became Herman and clothesline became fraulein. Just outside Havelock, when Stanley Floyd phoned the Tour Bus to see how the trip was going, the first thing Peter said was, “We need an intercom, Stanley!”

Intercom Next Time

 In midafternoon, we stopped for refreshment at the Cedar Café at Cornhill Nursery. When the waitress arrived to take our order, Lesley told her this was the first day for the up and coming tour company, Pete’s Tours, and the Tour Guide and Driver needed a cup of tea. 

“Oh, a new tour company. That’s nice,” the waitress said.
“Yeah, but he could only find five people to come on the tour,” Lesley added.
With that, our Tour Guide and Driver fell into hysterical laughter and was unable to regain composure. Exhaustion, we figured. He’d been on the road for five hours with five Highway Safety Officers and no intercom.

Cedar Cafe, Cornhill

We continued on our way, passing Frank Jopp's farm in Mount Pisgah. Conversation in the Tour Bus went like this:

Peter: “That’s Frank Jopp’s farm.”
Sue: “What did you say, Peter?”
Barb: “Oh, the guy with all the solar panels?”
Peter: “Yep.”
Kathy: “Let’s stop.”
Sylvia: “We can’t stop! There are people in the yard!”
Peter the Tour Guide and Driver drove on by.
Kathy: “Turn around, Peter! Let’s go back.”
Sylvia: “Don’t you dare turn around, Peter! There are people in the yard!”
Kathy: “So what. Turn around, Peter!”
Peter: “Do you want me to turn around?”
Sue: “What did you say, Peter?”
Barb: “Yeah, let’s go back.”
Sylvia: “Well, where are you going to turn around? You can’t turn here!”
Kathy: “Pull in here.”
Sylvia: “Oh my God, here comes a bus!”
Lesley: “Namaste. Om. Om. Namaste.”

Frank Jopp: Solar Farmer

We had a good look at the 25 solar panels Frank Jopp has erected on the sidehill behind his barn. They generate enough energy to power 8 homes. Frank told us the cost of each solar panel and four of us heard one price, and two of us heard another. (Sylvia and I are right.) We argued for the next few miles until Lesley intervened once again with her Calm Voice of Reason.

"$25,000! No, $35,000!

Our next stop was at a Mennonite greenhouse in Plumesweep. The six of us piled out of the car and entered the greenhouse where we met a grandmother, a mother and four young children. The women and three little girls were dressed in traditional Mennonite garb—long dresses, aprons and bonnets. The one little boy was dressed in shirt and pants. We stood facing the family chatting about the greens they had for sale. All of a sudden, the little boy walked up to me, took me by the hand and led me out of the greenhouse. He did not speak or smile or give any indication of where we were going, but he moved with intention! As we were nearing the end of the yard and heading toward the field, the little girls joined us. The eldest girl told me the little boy, Brian, was two years old. She thought maybe he was taking me to the field where his father and grandfather were working. We got him turned around and headed back to the greenhouse where he picked up a carrot off the floor and gave it to me to eat. That soft little hand in mine was enough to warm any heart made of granite.

Little Brian and Granite

The last road on our trip was the one you see from the back of Peter’s house, across the wide meadow and the Millstream River. When we were directly across from his house, Peter pointed to a scraggly tree at the edge of the field. “See that tree,” he said. “I get  my grandkids to look out the window at night when there is a full moon. I tell them, if we came over here some night, we could climb that tree and hop right on to the moon.” What an enchanting story from a devoted grandfather to eight lucky grandchildren.

Moon Tree

We returned to Peter’s kitchen and ate the rest of our picnic for supper. Although our sides were aching from laughter, the stories continued until we departed at seven, well-nourished in so many ways. If you want to sign up for an exclusive tour with Peter, let me know asap! Spaces are filling up fast!

Pete's Tours

Cornhill, NB

…Until Next Time…