Pete's Tours Rides Again: The Fundy Trail

Pete’s Tours Rides Again: The Fundy Trail!

You’ve heard of the Fundy Trail. It’s described in tourism literature as “strenuous and serious.” The intrepid explorer, Old Pete, likes nothing better than a challenge. He worked all summer in his backyard swimming pool getting in shape to lead the fall excursion of his growing enterprise, Pete’s Tours.

Pete and the Swim Team

Not every 72-year-old has the fortitude to undertake the Fundy Trail. Of course, Pete did not set out alone. He gathered the troops filling the Big Green Touring Machine with fearless trekkers, some experienced, some less so. 

Pete and the Fundy Crew

Sylvia, Peggy, Kathy, Peter, Lesley, Gail, Beth

Calling on his military experience, Pete was shrewd in assigning roles to his six passengers. Every leader needs an assistant, a sidekick, an Aide-de-Camp.  Sitting right up front beside Pete, Kathy was delighted to accept that role, willing and able to give directions, make quick decisions and keep the platoon in order. Without doubt and without Pete's knowledge, she is scheming to one day take over complete command of Pete’s Tours. 

A Growing Enterprise

While Pete and Kathy were in charge at the helm, at the other end of the class hierarchy, waaaaay back in the economy seats, sat three discontented, disconnected passengers.  Western culture is full of notable threesomes---The Three Wisemen, The Three Little Pigs, The Holy Trinity, The Three Bears, The Three Witches in Macbeth, The Three Musketeers, The Supremes…the list goes on. These three, Sylvia, Gail and Beth, became known as The Forgotten Three. It’s a long way, literally and figuratively, from the ship’s wheelhouse to steerage in the back seat. There were moments when The Forgotten Three felt as if the Big Green Touring Machine had left Millstream without the backseat. Yes, they could very well be sitting in Pete’s driveway on a bench seat from an aging Dodge Caravan. 

The Forgotten Three

Bridging the gap between the Power Rangers in the front and the Downtrodden in the back, sat Lesley the Padre and Peggy the Medic. Together, in the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) they attempted to keep the peace and bring solace to the wounded. Peace-keeping is not easy. 

DMZ 

Conditions in the backseat were crowded and uncomfortable. Struggling to fit three medium-sized bodies into a space intended for two pre-adolescent grandchildren, the in-fighting began before the Big Green Touring Machine left the lower end of Peter’s curved driveway.

“I can’t find the end of my seatbelt!”
“Move over!”
“You’ve got your buckle in my slot! Get it out!”
“I can’t find my elbow!”
“It’s in my ribs! Move over!”
“Get off my jacket!”
“I’m choking…”

Alas. The economy class. Started out bad. Never improved. The Captain and his Aide-de-Camp couldn’t hear the constant whining of complaints issuing forth from steerage. Only when the Big Green Touring Machine hit a pot-hole, a rock or loose gravel, did the screams and yelps from the economy class remind Pete and Kathy of the less fortunate. 

Economy Class

Unfortunately, for Lesley and Peggy, it was their middle seat in the DMZ that felt the anger from the disaffected citizens in the back toward the powerful elite in the front. The tug-of-war between the marginalized and the privileged was palpable for the Padre and the Medic. Their talents of conciliation and collaboration could not begin to soothe the troubled waters of class warfare. 

Lesley and Peggy...

New recruits Gail and Beth were more than excited to take on their positions as Musical Director and Local Historian when they were initially invited to join Pete’s Tours. Days before the trip, Gail was humming and singing and harmonizing all over Kings and St. John Counties. 

“Happy trails to you,

Until we meet again.

Happy trails to you,

Keep smiling until then”

Beth had cheerfully brushed up on every ghost story, baptismal certificate and graveyard along the Fundy Trail.

“And if you look over here to your right, you’ll see the gravesite of the first woman in the Parish of Studholm to win the milking competition at the Sussex Agricultural Fair in 1923.” 

Historical Gravesite

 Sylvia had graciously resumed her role as Highway Safety Officer, a job she has held on all of Pete’s previous excursions. Indeed, Sylvia has held that position since birth. She's a natural!

"Peter, there’s a truck coming and it’s coming pretty friggin’ fast!!!"

"Stop at that stop sign, Peter. It’s a bad one!"

"There’s a passing lane ahead, Peter! Slow down. There might be somebody behind us!"

Highway Safety Officer

  Gail’s singing, Beth’s narration and Sylvia’s warnings all fell on deaf ears.  

Deaf Ears

“Do you hear anything from the back, Kathy?” Peter asked his Aide-de-Camp.

“No, not really. Just a dull murmur as if someone is talking or singing,” Kathy answered.
The Padre spoke up. “I think we should consider stopping to use the bathroom, Peter. The three in the back need to go.”
“Yes, it’s unhealthy to allow your bladder to overfill,” added the Medic.
“I don’t really need to go yet, Peggy,” Kathy replied over her shoulder. “Do you, Peter?”
“No,” Peter answered. “Since I started working on my Kegels, I can last for hours.”

And the Big Green Touring Machine continued up the road.

BGTM

In fact, the Big Green Touring Machine continued up and down and over many roads passing through communities such as Upperton, Ratter’s Corner, Drury Cove, St. Martin’s, Salt Springs, Upham, Smith Road, Mercer Settlement, Southfield, Penobsquis, Drummond, Parleeville Road and Millstream. The sights are too numerous to name, but highlights include a suspicious axe stuck in a fencepost, piles of ashes used for fertilizer, a round house with no corners, a Bailey Bridge, wild turkeys, the Hearst Mansion, a very friendly waitress, an animal masseuse, clam chowder, a postcard collection, four Bernese mountain dogs, high tide, low tide…All this before they even got to the Fundy Trail!

Suspicious Axe

When the group finally arrived at the trailhead, they were pleased to learn it was Ambassadors’ Day and the entrance fee was reduced. All seven ambassadors were released from the Big Green Touring Machine to find bathroom facilities. Pete and Kathy kept their distance from The Forgotten Three and the edge of the cliff. 

Stay Away from the Edge

After hours and miles of touring, The Big Green Touring Machine made it back to Millstream, sort of intact. The Forgotten Three were still disgruntled, the Captain and his Aide-de-Camp were still oblivious, and the Padre and the Medic were making plans to call in a mediator before the next trip. 

...Until Next Time...

Auberge Marie Blanc Bike Trip

Auberge Marie Blanc Bike Trip

Auberge Marie Blanc

Back in my working life, I thought that summer ended at Labour Day, you know, the day before school started…but, news flash, summer isn’t over then!

Summer Continues

A recent bike trip to Quebec has convinced me that September might be the best month of the year to travel—crowds have diminished, traffic has decreased, off-season rates are in effect, weather is decent, and there’s still some daylight after supper.

September Travel Benefits

At my advanced age and declining abilities, I’m interested in The Gentle Bike Trip—not far from home, no hills, no pressure. Well, I found the perfect team going to the perfect locale for the perfect bike trip.

Part of the Perfect Team

Joan, Gail, John, Rick

You have probably driven by Lac Temiscouata en route to Quebec City, or Montreal, or Toronto, and you have probably admired the Lac from the highway. It’s an impressive vista of the 45-kilometre-long lake. 

Lac Temiscouta

Notre Dame du Lac, a little town nestled along the shore of Lac Temiscouta, is home to the charming Auberge Marie Blanc, headquarters for our biking expedition. 

Auberge Marie Blanc

Auberge Marie Blanc has its own intriguing history. According to local lore, the lodge was built by a wealthy American lawyer in 1905 as a place to hide his mistress, Marie Blanc. That worked for a few years until Mrs. Wealthy Lawyer showed up and wanted her husband back. Mr. Wealthy Lawyer ended his liaison with his mistress, but he wanted to keep his lodge. A court case ensued over the ownership of the property, and Mistress Marie Blanc won! She lived there until her death at the age of 80.

Marie Blanc

In addition to its convenient location right on the bike trail, Auberge Marie Blanc offers a welcoming atmosphere that makes you want to sit down in front of its grand fireplace and enjoy a moment of reflection.

Reflect

I kept imagining myself in Three Pines with Inspector Gamache, sipping a cappuccino and nibbling a croissant. I realize this is not exactly Inspector Gamache’s “beat”, but there are similarities.

Gamache...

Auberge Marie Blanc sets a fine table...

Dining Room

 and serves delicious meals.

My Dinner

My Dessert

Our team of 8 was big enough to ensure scintillating conversations and small enough that no one got lost in the shuffle! We had lots of laughs and even did a little biking between meals. Auberge Marie Blanc Bike Trip---I recommend it!

Team Dining
Joan, Gail, Wilfred, Mary, Mike, Rick

...Until Next Time... 

There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea

There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea...

Perfectly-Steeped

Charlotte’s Tea is a fund-raising event held at 1810 Carter House, Kingston, NB every August.  The tea is named in honour of a lady who was keen on history, loved desserts, and made a fine cup of tea! Charlotte Amelia Henderson Miller Fullerton was born on August 16, 1916, in Holderville.  She lived most of her life on the Kingston Peninsula and contributed generously to the local historical society.

Charlotte Amelia Henderson

Charlotte’s Tea features an array of delectable desserts lovingly prepared and served by local women. An extensive selection of specialty teas complements the wide assortment of sweets. Patrons are encouraged to come back for seconds… and thirds!

Extensive Array of Sweets

Charlotte’s Tea is brought to you by her peeps---daughters, daughter-in-law, granddaughters, nieces, grand-nieces, grand-grand nieces, son-in-law, neighbours, friends. That’s the crew behind the selling of tickets, the picking of berries, the baking of desserts, the sweeping of floors, the setting of tables, the steeping of tea, the washing of dishes, the laundering of tablecloths, the singing of songs, the laughing on the back deck. The list goes on.

Some of the Crew:

(Joan, Barb, Beth, Gail, Treva, Kathy)

Those of us fortunate enough to have known Charlotte, may recall some of her memorable sayings which reflect her character, values and wisdom. Every quote has a story, of course.


“Is that child hungry?” (Whenever she heard a child crying.)

Charlotte and Emily

 "There’s good in everybody."

Goodness

“Your tongue will hang you.” (Directed to some of her daughters...not mentioning any names...)

Daughters: Gail, Barb, Janet, Kathy

 “I don’t know what I would have done without my sisters.” (During a time of personal crisis.)

Charlotte and her Sisters

(Betty, Mary, Jean, Gladys, Charlotte, Margaret)

“Would you mind bringing in an armload or two of wood?” 

Filling the Woodbox

“If you can’t say anything nice about that person, don’t say anything at all.” 

Aesop and Charlotte

“You know where the molasses cookies are.”

Famous Cookies

“Let’s remember, we’re all immigrants.” (Commenting on controversy over refugees.)

Remember?

 “I’ll give you a quarter if you can find the…” (flashlight, flyswatter, telephone book, etc.) 

Lost and Found Reward: $.25

 “While you’re on your feet, would you mind…” (As her mobility deteriorated.)

Barb and Charlotte

“Things will be better in the morning.”

Bagheera and Charlotte

“The spirit’s willing, but the flesh is weak.” (As she aged.)

Matthew and Charlotte

  “Now, let’s all sit down and have a cup of tea.”

There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea...

There’s Nothing Like a Cup of Tea

In our busy working day
Time just seems to slip away
Man, he works from sun to sun
But women’s work is never done.

Cleaning, sewing, making bread
Keeping our dear family fed
Toiling in the kitchen there
Full of worry, full of care—

How we long to stop a bit
Rest our bones and simply sit—

Chorus:
Oh, there’s nothing like a cup of tea
To bring us back to sanity
It’s a sign of such civility
To simply sip a cup of tea.

How bracing to sit in the afternoon
In a clean and polished and shining room
We lose our troubles as you can see
By brewing ourselves a cup of tea.

Words and Music by Carolyn Murray, 1984

Plan to join us next August at 1810 Carter House for Charlotte's Tea. 

...Until Next Time...

Cooking with Julia (my) Child

Cooking with Julia (my) Child:
A Pecorino Pecadillo

On a recent trip to Toronto to visit my daughter Julia, she suggested that we share the cooking for the week. She proposed that we treat each other to our favourite supper specialties thereby broadening each of our cooking repertoires. Great idea!

Julia, My Child

She had supper prepared the day I arrived—lightly-breaded cod, baked squash and bruised greens. Delicious. Cooked to perfection and served with a smile!

Lightly-Breaded Cod, Baked Squash,
Bruised Greens

That evening, before tucking into bed, Julia reminded me that it would be my turn to make supper the next day. She informed me that she had fallen heir to a large chunk of pecorino cheese which had been mistakenly delivered to her workplace. “Maybe you can make something with that, Mom.”

Free Pecorino

As Aficionado of the Rotten Food Rack, First Lady of the Food Bargain and Renovator of any Recipe, my heart swelled with pride. My little Julia had taken advantage of a food freebie. Not only that, but she had adopted my meal-planning practice which is driven by what’s on sale as opposed to what you want to eat. It seemed she had inherited some of my frugality, after all.  

Swelling with Pride

I had never made anything with pecorino but having a three-pound chunk of free cheese at my fingertips was downright inspiring. I found a recipe online, tagliatelle pasta at a local shop, and "close-enough" substitutions for all the other ingredients on the Rotten Food Rack.  

Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper

In my online recipe search, I learned that pecorino is made with ewe’s milk. I shared that fact with Julia the next day as we were digging into our Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper. She stopped her fork in midair, a look of disgust on her face. Her expression took me back a few years. 

Julia: Expressing her Opinion

“Used milk!! Mom!! Gross! I’m not eating used milk.”

I was taken aback. Julia had grown into an adventuresome eater over the years.

“What do you have against ewe’s milk, Julia? Have you even tried it before?”

“Look, Mom, I know you love bargains and the RFR, but used milk is just too much. I’m NOT eating it. You’ve crossed the line this time.” She rested her fork on the edge of her plate and folded her arms across her chest.

“Julia, you eat feta, you eat goat cheese. What’s the difference? What do you have against an ewe?”

“An ewe?” She raised her eyebrows. Pause. “Oh, ewe’s milk. I thought you were saying used milk. Now I understand. Sorry, Mom.” She picked up her fork and dug in thus resolving our pecorino peccadillo.

An Ewe

...Until Next Time...

RhuBarb, the Musical

RhuBarb, the Musical

Rhubarb, the Musical

This is my eighth year in the rhubarb business. I spent 30 years as a teacher and I want to match that number as a rhubarb mogul, or mongrel as my intern calls it.  I’ll only be 84 when I hit Rhubarb Retirement Age (RRA). My Uncle Sam worked the rhubarb scene well into his 80s; he is my inspiration.

Uncle Sam

Tom, my faithful intern, has been by my side for these 8 years, but I can’t say he’s been totally content in his role. In fact, he was grumbling last Sunday when we headed out to the patch. He felt his breakfast of half an English muffin, a solid ounce of Irish cheddar and two extra strength Tylenol was a bit scant. I reminded him that when we were finished in 3 hours, he would be rewarded with the other half of the English muffin, an entire can of Brunswick sardines in mustard and two more extra strength Tylenol.

Breakfast

Although I’ve never explored this with a professional, there may be a nasty edge to my rhubarb enthusiasm when it comes to my intern. I take some pleasure in reporting that he still works for the same wage after 8 years of residency. Zero dollars per hour. 

Intern Wages

On the other hand, I do consider job satisfaction beyond monetary compensation. For example, in the rhubarb patch last weekend when Tom started singing Paul McCartney’s “Get Back”, I was relieved that he had at least stopped complaining. It took me a few minutes to realize he was singing Get Back, Get Back, Get Back to the Rhubarb Patch. When he eagerly proposed Rhubarb, the Musical, what else could I do but humour him. The idea was distracting him from the bending, twisting, lugging…putting a little spring in his step!  Job satisfaction was on the upswing. 

Contented Intern

By the time we had filled our 170-pound order, Rhubarb, the Musical was more than a distant dream of a lowly intern. Tom had decided that the musical should be performed on site in the fashion of Shakespeare in the Park. He had made an extensive (mental) list of costumes and props, and had selected the following hits:

·        If I Were a Rhubarber and You Were a Lackey

·        Take me to the Rhubarb, Don’t Forget the Water

·        Hello Rhubarb, my Old Friend

·        In the Early Morning Patch, With a B’nana Box in my Hand

·        The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Rhubarb

·        Rhubarb Control to Intern Tom

·        I Never Picked Rhubarb

·        Rhubarb Barb, Rhubarb’ra Ann

·        Just Pick It, Just Pick It

·        You Can’t Talk to a Woman with a Rhubarb Knife in her Hand

·        Get Back, Get Back, Get Back to the Rhubarb Patch

·        Rhubarby Fields Forever

·        

Although there are still some minor details to work out, you can buy your tickets in advance…

...Until Next Time...

Ulterior Motives and Conspiracy Cake

Ulterior Motives and Conspiracy Cake

I confess. When I travelled to Denver recently to visit my Hair Stylist daughter and her husband, I had one ulterior motive. Because I was arriving only two days after Mother’s Day, I was pretty confident that Emma would offer to trim my wayward locks. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.

One Ulterior Motive

She noticed my messy coiffure immediately.
“Are you growing your hair out, Mom?”
“Yes, I am.” Pause ... Pause ... “But it does need a trim.” Eyebrows raised to question mark level.
“I KNEW you would come out here wanting me to cut your hair! I don’t do that cut anymore!” Voice raised to annoyed level.
“Oh, never mind, Emma. I’ll get it cut when I get home. No problem.” I know when to back off. Sometimes.

Bad Hair Day

Emma was the perfect hostess as the week went on, generous with her time and attentive to our every need and desire. Jazz Festival, Knitting Club, Dining Adventures, Museum of Art, Mother-Daughter Facial and Pedicure, Swimming, Dog-Walking, Craft Breweries, Ice Cream Tasting Party, Bad Movies… The list is endless.

Ice Cream Flight: The Creamery

As we prepared for our Sunday trip to Ikea, Emma mentioned that her friend was coming with us.

“Kaytee's coming over a little early so I can trim her hair.”
“WHAT!!??” I responded, outraged, eyes drilling into Emma. “Trim her hair!!!???”
“I owe her, Mom. She kept our dog when we went to Florida last month.”
“You owe me LIFE, Emma!” I retorted, recalling 14 hours of labour and 10 months of Hair School.
“It’s just a little trim, Mom. Won’t take long.”
I let it go. Sort of.

Hair School

Over an Ikea lunch of poached salmon and Conspiracy Cake, Emma discussed the patio furniture she was considering buying for her back yard.
“I really like it, but I don’t know if I should spend all that money right now. We’re going to that wedding next month, and we were away last month…”
Without thought or consultation with Tom, I blurted out, “We could buy that for you. You’ve entertained us all week. It can be our hostess gift.”
Tom, Mr. Generous, looked at me, Mrs. Tightwad, with his mouth open. Speechless, he nodded his head in agreement.

Tom

Barb

Emma responded to my offer without hesitation, “Oh, that would be nice, Mom. Thanks.” Emma and Kaytee looked at each other. (Conspiratorially??)
“Wait a minute,” I started. “Did you two have this planned?”
Kaytee shook her newly trimmed blond tresses as she popped another forkful of Conspiracy Cake in her mouth.
Emma smiled slyly. “No, Mom, not at all. And I’ll cut your hair when we get home.”
Later that afternoon, Tom assembled the patio furniture as Emma cut my hair.

Denver Haircut --- Pricey

Time with Emma --- Priceless

What's in a Conspiracy Cake? 

...Until Next Time...