Peggy's Cove near Halifax, Nova Scotia

Today we signed up for an excursion--we went by coach to Peggy's Cove, about an hour's drive from Halifax.  This meant we didn't get to see much of the city of Halifax, but it was a wise choice.  Years ago on our driving trip to Canada, Peggy's Cove was on the itinerary and we remembered it as a highlight.  As we approached it today, it actually looked beautifully familiar.   It seems that every attraction in the world gets bigger, more populous, and less desirable with time, but Peggy's Cove was exactly as we remembered it: quaint, isolated and perfect.  Peggy apparently was the mother of the tiny settlement's founder, Samuel de Champlain.  Settled in 1811, it looks almost like it must have looked two centuries ago. Its entire population is still a mere forty souls and you can count the buildings on two hands: a smattering of gift shops, a restaurant or two, the few houses that have withstood the wind and the waves for a hundred years, and the magnificent lighthouse holding court on a massive bed of rocks.  Here are a few pictures:

Our sweet guide, Diane, wearing her Nova Scotia Tartan skirt, was very concerned that someone would trip and fall on these quite treacherous rocks.  There are pathways, but of course people insist on tempting fate and apparently they lose a few to the sea from time to time.  Our group made it back intact.

The weather looks ominous, but it was actually perfect.  No wind, pleasantly cool and if you were a painter I'll bet you would kill for the way the shadows lit the rocks with the sun barely peeking through the clouds.

This old boat looks like It could have just dislodged a crew of Vikings off the coast of Norway.

An abandoned fishing boat or two, lobster pots on the dock, working sheds next to the pier--it all looks so authentically trashy.  I would hate to think some marketer staged this scene.

 I know this guy is a little touristy, but he's just so danged cute...

...and of course the parish church.  Ignore that condo looking structure on the right--should have cropped it out.

As we walked down the road from the lighthouse toward the church, we noticed a weathered old broad selling smoked mackerel and salmon out of the back of an ancient pick-up and couldn't resist.   After cajoling her out of a sample of the maple smoked salmon flavored with maple syrup and then a small bite of the mackerel fillet, we bought a fillet to share and ate it with our fingers out of a greasy plastic bag with one napkin to between us.  I can still smell it on my fingers as I write this.  The mackerel was so good we bought a salmon fillet to share for our walk back up the road.  I wish I had a picture--not just of the fish but of that great lady whose creviced face and blackened fingers were clearly camouflaging decades of fascinating stories of the sea...

After we left Peggy's Cove we drove back to Halifax by a different route.  The fall colors are in riotous array but it is so hard to get pictures through the coach window.  

Diane kept up a running commentary on the history of Halifax incorporating into her comments a fine introduction to our next stop: Fairview Lawn Cemetery where 150 of the victims of the Titanic disaster are laid to rest.  

Everyone knows the story of the ill-fated Unsinkable Titanic, and apparently most people think that Jack and Rose of the romanticized James Cameron movie were real people.  They were not, but there were 2,228 people on that ship who were very real and only 715 survivors.  The Titanic sank off the coast of Newfoundland in April of 1912 and because Halifax was the nearest large port, 150 of the victims who were taken there ended up never being returned to their homes.  Either they were never identified, or they were identified but their relatives couldn't afford, or didn't choose, to bring them home.  

In the very large Fairview Lawn Cemetery, there is a dedicated area where 121 of the Titanic victims are buried, some identified simply with the number they were assigned when recovered from the sea, and some whose actual identities were either immediately known or later discovered.  Someone had to pay for the tombstones which give their names, ages, and other identifying factors, and if no family member or benefactor stepped forward, their identities are forever lost.  One interesting grave is that of a small child with blond curly hair who was found floating in the ocean still wearing his pink shirt and tiny knickers. For years he was known simply as the Unknown Child, until DNA technology identified him many years later as little Sidney Leslie Goodwin, aged 18 months.  The original tombstone remains and little Sidney's identity added below it.  The number 4 indicates that he was the fourth body recovered. 

The next pictures show the three rows of graves where the 121 victims are buried; and two examples of graves where someone had not only the inclination but the money to identify the lost one with more than a number.  The second tombstone caught Tom's eye because the resident therein was from Clones, Ireland in County Monaghan which we visited on our genealogical quest there in 2008.  It was to the Village Hall in Clones that we went seeking information on the sainted ancestors.  

Diane told us that Halifax has several nicknames: The City of Trees (for obvious reasons), The Warden of the North (because the Canadian Navy is based there), and The City of Sorrows.  There are three reasons for this last designation.  First, because of its connection to the Titanic, a clear and sad legacy. 

The second event that makes Halifax the City of Sorrows is known simply as the Halifax Explosion and occurred in 1917.  A French cargo ship carrying a highly explosive load and a Norwegian vessel collided in Halifax Harbor igniting the explosives, killing 2,000 people and causing a tidal wave that destroyed much of the northern end of the city.  In addition to the massive loss of life, many more were injured and 16,000 were left homeless.  It took years to recover from the disaster.  At the time, the city of Boston was highly instrumental in Halifax's recovery and as a token of their appreciation, the "Haligonians" send a massive Christmas tree every year to Boston where it is erected and decorated in memory of the Explosion.

The third reason for the designation has to do with the catastrophe of September 11, 2001.  When the planes hit the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, no planes were allowed to land anywhere near New York and had to be diverted.  Forty-four jets were diverted to Halifax. Of course no one on those planes knew what had happened or why they were being diverted.   As information leaked out, people believed the layover would be brief, but the hours became an overnight and then almost a week. Between eight and eleven thousand people had to be accommodated on short notice. 

Diane told us about the logistics of dealing with all of those frightened, confused people who mostly had no idea what lay ahead and many of whom were from far away places like Italy and Greece.  She found herself one of the volunteers who organized places to stay (at first the arena, and then hotels and private homes); what to eat (all restaurants, amateur and professional chefs, and ordinary people were pressed into service); and ways to help them communicate with their loved ones.  The logistics were a nightmare but she talked about the relationships that were built, some of which are on-going all these years later.

We were back on board ship by 1:30 and left Halifax around 2:00.  I wish we had more time here--it's a fascinating a beautiful city.