Day 25 - Camden, ME - Saint John, NB

Day 25 - September 14, 2014 Camden, Maine - Saint John, New Brunswick

The air is crisp and makes me think of apple season. Waking up to the freezing cold temperatures told me that we had definitely moved north! Out came the hoodies, jeans, and runners. At least for me; some of the children decided to remain in shorts. Crazy people!

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The campsite we spent the night at, Camden Hills, was privately owned and very nice. I would recommend it. It was about $35 for the night with hotspots of wifi and they tell you where to park for it. There was a nice pool, shady and sunny campsites, and clean facilities. 

The town of Camden is quaint, and if we had more time we would have enjoyed browsing the shops. 

We stopped until about 12:00 pm and then headed out, as I had seen that wandering the coastline of Maine took a long time. What was originally a nine hour drive from Salisbury Beach, Massachusetts to Alma, New Brunswick had turned into much longer. We had managed to take seven hours to drive a two hour stretch the day before. The girl at the store, when I told it wasn’t possible it had taken that long, informed me that, yes, it was quite possible, because if driven completely, the coastline of Maine was the length of crossing the entire United States of America! It was then that I decided that taking a few interstates might be wise if I wanted to make Canada this year!

Isaiah Trying to Appear to be Helping - Funny Boy!

Fort Knox is a name I well recognize as being where the gold is kept, and so when I saw the sign for it, I made a quick detour. Upon entry, though, I found it was the wrong Fort Knox. The real Fort Knox for the gold is in Kentucky. Both places are named for the same man, but this Fort Knox is a real stone fort built to protect the waterway from enemy attacks! It was very interesting to go through it and the kids loved all the dark areas that they needed to use flashlights to get into. I was reminded of the castles to which my parents took me when I was a child in England. 

 The Very Cool Bridge at Fort Knox

 The Exterior Wall of the Fort

 The Coastline and River That Was To Be Protected

Cannon Firing Holes

Up On the Roof

Each Square Held a Cannon - Enough Spots For Over 200 Cannons

Courtyard

Enlisted Men Quarters

Officers Quarters

A Jail Cell

I could see that we were not far from the Canadian border. Much as I was sad, as I hoped to find a booth selling my puppies on the side of some road, I knew it was time to say good-bye to America, at least for the time being. Approaching the border, I told the children that this would be the easy part. I always find that entering America, the agents are very intimidating due to their job, and the great possibility that I am a terrorist. But when we pass the office on the Canadian side, we always get a big smile and a “Welcome home” attitude, which is understandable since I’m not likely to bomb my own country. 

This entry was not like that. I drove up to the booth and pulled to a stop. The woman did not smile. She did not make eye contact. She asked me how long I had been away. I told her about three weeks. She asked me from whence I came. I told her British Columbia. She asked me if I was the only parent in the household. I told her, no, there was my husband, also. She questioned me if I had a letter. I told her it was in the caravan. When she did not ask for it, I thought, good, and did not offer to inconvenience myself. 

She then told me to wait while she inspected the van as she could not see inside. Leaving her booth, she came around the vehicle, opened the door, looked in the back, and then opened the front passenger door, as if I might be hiding an illegal immigrant or something right beside me in the front seat. 

Returning to her seat in her booth, she asked me if I had liquor, cigarettes, firearms, mace, or pepper spray with me. The thought of the two muskets in the backseat crossed my mind, but I figured she didn’t seem the type to laugh if I told her I only had muskets, but no revolvers, and so I simply told her ‘two ciders’, and $150 worth of presents. She wrote this up, handed me a yellow slip, and curtly told me to park under the canopy and take the letter from the father and the papers she handed me into customs. Okay.... ?

I parked my rig and headed in. The office was very quiet with only about three travelers and a couple officers. I headed for one and handed him my paperwork. He glanced at it, asked me to wait a minute, and then disappeared through the door towards where her booth had been. I looked outside waiting for him to appear by my van, as I thought he might be verifying the number of children, or looked at any agricultural items I might be bringing in, such as fruits and vegetables. 

About five minutes went by, and he came striding towards his desk, and shaking his head, looked at me and said, “You came in because you had the parental letter in the trailer?” And I said, Yes. 

He didn’t look apologetic, but he did use words that showed his disapproval at his co-worker. “If you were on the run with your children, you would not be reentering the country....”

And I said, “No kidding! That’s what I thought!” The officer handed me my papers and then returned to his work.

I think the officer outside was confused, thinking I was an American entering Canada.

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The rest of our day consisted of moving along the highway towards Alma, New Brunswick. I knew it would be at least four hours to get there, but I felt I could knock off a little more today, since tomorrow was supposed to be in Alma, Cape Enrage, and the Hopewell Rocks, and the Hopewell Rocks had a low tide that I wanted to view. 

I have learned that my GPS does not like this side of the world. It had no problem with the eastern states, but once we crossed the border, it was thoroughly confused!! It kept telling me to go to odd places. At one time, like way back in Wyoming, it drove me down a back road and just before we hit the gravel dead-end, I realized what was happening and turned in someone’s driveway. When Austin went to the man’s door, the man confirmed that we were led by a GPS. Obviously not the first wrong GPS! In the end, the little box did not help me, but people on the side of the road, instead! 

The Kind of Roads I Was Now Driving On in New Brunswick

Quite the Drive I Had!

Finally, before entering Saint John, we began looking for a campground. There was a sign that said Camping, and so we followed it off the highway, and ended up traipsing into the countryside about 30 km!! There should be restrictions on how far the campsite can be from the actual sign! At one time there was a near miss as the roads were so unfamiliar, and I find, and have always found, that our roads are terrible for markings in the dark! The American roads are so much better lit!! Ours are nigh on dangerous! There was a small section of road where the solid yellow line was quite obvious, and so I stayed to the left of it, as I was sure it marked the shoulder. It didn’t. This I learned when Isaiah called out, “Oh Mum! You’re on the wrong side. Go on the other side.”  And at that very moment, I too, saw two sets of lights heading for me. Thankfully, I was driving rather slowly, as were they, I think, and I safely veered back to my side. I do not like night driving, and am usually off the road as early as possible. Finding somewhere to park for the night was the difficult thing, because being back in Canada, it was long stretches of roads and no towns big enough to hold a Walmart, and no signs for campgrounds, other than that ridiculous one. I should mention that there was one other sign for camping, and I took that turn, only to find myself at a small ferry terminal having to make a very risky turn. Yes, there was camping. On the other side. 

We kept driving, and eventually, we found a small town. There was a Sobey’s and a Tim Hortons and not much else. I drove in and out, back and forth, trying to decide if I should stay there, or chance driving on with no help from my GPS. I then saw a sign stating Loitering Was Prohibited and Violators Would Be Prosecuted. A man was with his friend on the side of the mall where it was still semi-open, so I asked him how to get to Saint John. He told me but also told me I would be safe parking there for the night. I decided to not take his word for it, since what was a man of his age doing ‘loitering’ by the side of the building when he could have been home... I erred on the side of caution, thanked him, and moved on.

Eventually, we found our way down a road, through more wrong turns, and into the outskirts of Saint John. The Walmart had signs that unless shopping No Parking, so we moved on. Again. I was beginning to get concerned, as I did not want to sleep in my caravan only to get ousted at midnight again!! Back onto the highway we went again, and then we saw a trucker’s gas station, so we pulled in there, and parked with our big brothers. I snuggled right up against a large rig with no cab, and told the kids to be very discreet about leaving the van and entering the caravan, as I did not want to advertise that I had no man with me. Pulling on my hood to make myself taller (wink), I strode to the back, got in and began making dinner, while Isaiah took the children in shifts to the gas station to the bathroom. The night was spent with peaceful sound of motors running, and the comforting feel of lights shining on our little home. 

The View From My Front Window