Thru the Peephole: Musings on the Strange, Interesting, and Maddening Characters We Meet “On the Road”
By Allan Gereg of St. Clairsville, Ohio.
Chapter 13: Eli “The Rocket” in Nova Scotia
In the summer of 1990, Doug and I took one of the best motorcycle tours ever… we explored the unimaginable beauty of Nova Scotia. We had planned this vacation far in advance because we knew how wonderful it was to be just from the literature in magazines and the tour books. So, up thru New England we sped, trying to survive that hustle-bustle… never realizing just how slow-paced and comforting Nova Scotia towns and roadway were going to be.
We stopped at Bar Harbor, Maine for the night where we anxiously awaited the morning when we boarded the Bluenose Ferry bound for Yarmouth, Nova Scotia! The Bluenose was quite a bit larger than what I expected… it resembled a poor man's Ocean Liner… it can hold hundreds upon hundreds of vehicles, and provides restaurants, lounge, and even a small casino (one-arm-bandits!) which goes into operation when the ferry reaches international waters. We drank Schooner beer and gambled a bit, and then went out on deck to watch for whales during this six hour passage. We were lucky enough to see one or two whales spout and surface a couple of times! Great!
A pleasant side attraction to our tour was the visit with Eli and Edna who reside in Yarmouth, and are Doug’s family friends with whom I became well acquainted over the years. Eli and Edna were born and raised in Nova Scotia and came to the U.S. in order for Eli to ply his carpenter trade. When old enough to retire he and his wife returned home to Yarmouth close to family.
Neither Eli nor Edna have completely lost the twinge of French Canadian accent from their younger days… it was even more pronounced now since they surely speak more French than English. During one of our visits, the telephone rang and, quite naturally, Edna answered, "Allo!" and rattled away in French to the caller.
It was good to see old Eli again, as he waited outside customs for us. “Allo, Dooug! My, my, it’s good to see yoo! And is dat Al? It’s been a long time since I seen yoo! How yoo doin’?… Come on, Edna’s in da car…she’ll be glad to see da-bote-a-ya!” We visited that day and returned for a tastey Sunday dinner prepared by Edna before we continued on our tour.
Wonderful, Wonderful People!
Oh, before I forget, I must tell why Eli is “The Rocket”. This story goes back to the early ’70’s when Doug got his very first dirt bike – a spiffy, white 175cc Yamaha. I was visiting “Adams Green Acres” along with Eli and Edna for the weekend. Doug had the bike out in the yard proudly showing it off to everyone… Eli seemed truly interested in the bike and said, “Yoo Know, Dooug, I never ride one ’a dese here dirt bikes before!” Upon hearing that, Doug coaxed Eli to take the bike for a little ride. “Oh, noo, Dooug, I don’ know how to ride dis t’ing!” Well, Doug and I both convinced him that there was nothing to it, so he straddled the 175 and was ready to go. The first two or three times his clutch operation resulted in a stalled engine; we told Eli that he just had to feed a little more gas so it wouldn’t quit… Weeereee… rumph… stalled again!… more gas, Eli… Go ahead… By this time old Eli was getting tired of this stalling trick, too, so… he gave a sharp twist to the throttle, popped the clutch… and literally flew from the spot! He was so scared that he tried to jump off, but couldn’t release the throttle!… his whole body was free of the bike except for his stranglehold on the handlebars. As he hurtled thru the yard, he looked like some kind of odd flag flapping in the wind! He was able to crash-land without injury, but said, “Dooug, dis bike bus’ness not for me…it be good for yoo youngster maybe, but not for ole’ man like me!” When we realized that Eli was unhurt, we laughed until we cried…I will remember Eli “The Rocket” as long as I live!
We had to leave Eli and Edna and continue our trip north along the western coast of Nova Scotia. I can’t say enough about the serene countryside and slow-paced lifestyle we experienced here. The highways were well-paved and uncrowded…… Even the larger towns on the map had only populations of four or five thousand. As we toured up the coast, we noticed that there seemed to be about as many English named towns as there were French names… I really don’t know the “official” breakdown. Since we were traveling on Dominion Day, we saw many flags displayed… the old Union Jack style and the yellow Fleur de Lis on the blue background of the French towns… very few Maple Leaf flags… that sticky subject of French Separatism is evidently still a volatile topic.
Up the western side of the peninsula we traveled, but it was after we crossed on to Cape Breton Island that things really got picturesque. We followed the Cabot Trail around the coast of the island… Indescribable Scenery… Mile after Mile! That night, we camped on a bluff overlooking the water and could hear the tide crash into the immense granite boulders scattered on the beach. (They were worn and rounded, like creek gravel – only magnified 800,000 times!… some were as big as a house!)
It was at the campground on the bluff that we met a young Massuchusetts couple in a Saab… they were taking a kind of Nature tour of Nova Scotia – looking for whales, moose, and eagles. As dusk turned into darkness, both our tents settled in for the night to the sounds of the surf.
The next morning we were off again… there were too many things to see, smell, and hear! We stopped at St. Ann’s Bay, a small town made famous by the presence of the Gaelic College of Celtic Arts and Crafts, the only Gaelic college in North America. Here we watched and listened to bagpipers and Gaelic dancers practice a nearly lost art… quite a sight… it took little imagination to think you may have been displaced to Edinburgh or Aberdeen! On down from the college I ate more fresh mussels than you could shake a telephone pole at! The waitress brought a water bucket to hold the spent shells!… they were so sweet and tender! After that feast, we walked from the restaurant and happened to notice a Saab parked along the road nearby… the driver had forgotten to turn off his headlights… as we walked over to inform him, we noticed that it was the two from Massachusetts that we met at the camp on the bluff! Small World!… They’d stopped along the road to view a bald eagle that had soared into the trees, and asked if we’d like a peak thru their telescope?… Oh, Yes, Thanks!… our first look at a living, wild eagle!
We managed to make our way around the island and headed south close to Antigonish where we had a pleasurable night’s stay at farm Bed & Breakfast. The hostesses were friendly and the food was delicious… the best suprise was the inexpensive cost… too bad we didn’t find any more B & B’s on the trip. We quizzed our hostesses ( a mother–daughter tandem) about the high costs of certain products (especially Beer, Liquor, and Cigarettes!) They said it was all in the taxes needed to fund their Public Health system… Hmm… that’s beginning to sound familiar south of their border, too, isn’t it?
We were now in our Homeward Swing… we left Nova Scotia to cross into New Brunswick, then into Maine and eventually to our homes sweet homes. There are tons of fond memories of this Nova Scotia trip… but the best ones were of dear Edna and The Old Rocket… Good Luck Eli and Edna!… God Bless You!
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