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Small town sights of Oxford

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Tooled around Oxford this morning and took in some small town sights.
Oxford city council saving taxpayers by using utility poles to hold their street signs.

A little mom-and-pop grocery in a home…. the way it used to be.


Oxford, home to Canada’s largest processor of wild blueberries.
This struck me as odd; so used to the American flag flying the highest….

Happy Canada Day!

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Happy Canada Day!

It’s like our 4th of July, only it’s today, and it means a lot of businesses are closed so I will be on and off the road early.

(Canada Day is a federal holiday that celebrates the anniversary of the July 1, 1867 enactment of the British North America Act.)

Making my way to Amherst.

One of the Tribe

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Met someone from my tribe today; John was from Wales.  “I have two weeks to bugger around,” he said.

John

Both of us commiserated about the hills and the heat.  “At least you have a tailwind,” I said.  “I don’t have a tailwind,” John quickly countered.  Then he said like a pirate, “Arrrrgh! The blood crosswind must have her hooks in both of us!”

John had a unique bicycling fashion style which was not at all similar to my fluorescent, wick-away spandex.  He gravitated toward the more casual plaid shirt with easy access ventilation up front.  While his attire did not appear to breath too well, I tried not to look too closely.

With the sun beating down on both of us and softening a patch of tar at my feet, John said he was having a good time, and he was off.

Masstown Market

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MASSTOWN, NOVA SCOTIA – A landmark and stopping point for many to refuel. Located about 18 miles north of Truro.

The grocery is similar to Sendik’s and the fresh fish market is housed in a
neighboring lighthouse.
Outside the lighthouse is a little display about high tides. The tiny tug boat will go up and down a three-story high cable depending on the tide and location by the Bay of Fundy – a 170 mi long v- shaped pocket of seawater branching off of the Atlantic Ocean.
A hat tip to store manager Dan who donated 10 post cards to the tour so I can share my adventures with supporters back home!



View from atop the lighthouse at Masstown Market.

Morning Interview on WBKV AM With Bob Bonenfant, West Bend, Wisconsin

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Judy was on the WBKV AM morning program with host Bob Bonenfant.

Listen to podcast HERE!

Dartmouth to Truro: The Tin Shop Museum in Canada’s Milk Can Capital

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(Editor's note: Pardon the skewed font.  Blogger is acting like a beast.)

Logged 65 miles from Dartmouth to Truro.  

Traveled primarily on old Route 2 in sunny 80-degree temps.  

Odd start to the morning as my route was the same as the EPIC triathlon. 

People cheered as I passed and police officers stopped traffic so I could roll through red lights. This Nova Scotia really knows how to spoil a gal.



Came upon the Tin Shop Museum in a little burg called Shubenacadie.  
The location used to be the home and shop of Watson Smith who was famous 
for inventing the steel-bottom milk can.  

I know what you're saying....
"Who could drive past this without having a look-see?"


There were so many original tools and characteristics of the shop that 
remained, including the rope supply that came up through the floor.  Holes were drilled in the floor so the rope stock could be stored in the level 
below.  Customers would choose their grade of rope and then pull it across the room to the cutter.  There were markings on the floor that measured the length.


There was a table full of trivia. Old-time inventions that were no longer 
in use.  I needed to phone a friend on many of the contraptions, like a 
metal rod where you loaded a pill in one end and then shoved it down a 
horses throat.  There was a stamp licker, a metal grabber to retrieve food 
from a hot oven and there was....THIS. Any guesses?  (See answer below.)


This was Smith's tin shop. The steel tools were hearty and built to last.  Smith was also creative as he harvested an old railroad tie and used it as an anvil.  He was organized with labeled boxes of nails and screws.

Smith's primary job was manufacturing milk cans, but he also installed cast iron wood-burning furnaces, made roof jacks and installed plumbing fixtures in bathrooms.

Answer to above "trivia" question: It's a chicken catcher! 
You would hook the chicken's neck or foot and pull them in.  
I'm sure they were available in the Montgomery Ward catalog.

COMING UP! Throwback Monday…… Riding in Tribute

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I’ll be revealing the name of this groovy dude in an update.  Stay tuned!

Busy Day in Halifax

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I love air travel. It’s so hassle free. (Just kidding.)
It was a whirlwind type of day that I’ll highlight in some photos:

Nancy
Nancy was a volunteer at the Halifax airport who helped me while I rebuilt my
bike. I finally arrived around 10:45 a.m. Saturday after another setback.  Nancy, another agent, Anne, and Lucy were all extremely helpful today…. Despite the delays.

Fabulous tour of the Maritime Museum in downtown Halifax.  Lots of great history and artifacts about the Titanic and the huge explosion in downtown Halifax in 1917.

Visited the wonderful Farmers” Market in Halifax. Here’s a bit of a Peter-Pan
view. The market has two levels and full until 8 p.m.

Some local art across from the Maritime Museum
 

Kids climbing sculpture

I could sit and watch this all day. It’s right along the boardwalk.  No kid
could walk past without trying it and some adults too.
Staying with my host family Jane and Eric tonight.  
Headed north tomorrow morning. 

Butterbox Babies

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Halifax, Nova Scotia – Finally arriving in Halifax 12 hours late; I was already behind my self-imposed schedule.
Air Canada managed to help me hail a shuttle to the Maritime Museum in downtown Halifax about 60 miles away.
Bill Sullivan
My driver was Bill Sullivan. A happy-go-lucky guy with three days growth of gray stubble, a Bluetooth in his ear and a plastic-looking wood cross around his neck.
“I left school when I was 11 to get a job,” Bill said with a blended Nova
Scotia/Boston accent.
Bill delivered telegrams on a bicycle. “We had a uniform and everything,” he
said, describing his cap, boots and high collar.
“I delivered a birthday message to an old woman. She stood in the doorway and
said, ‘Aren’t you supposed to sing?'”
“Then I had to deliver a telegram with black running down the edge. I got to the ladies home and she knew right away.” The woman said, “Ain’t you supposed to ask me if I’m alone?”  Bill said he did.  “Ain’t you supposed to come in and set with me?”  Bill said he did. For a while. The woman left the telegram lying on the table unopened. “Craziest thing I’d ever seen, her eyes welled up but she never cried one tear,” he said confirming the woman’s son had been killed in the war.
Bill, 73, was great at conversation. He kept it going. No sense in silence when it could be filled with a story.
“You familiar with the Butterbox Babies?,” he asked.
“There was a dairy that sold butter in boxes and those boxes were the perfect size for a coffin of a child born at the Ideal Maternity Home,” Bill said about the outfit that ran in an eastern province of Nova Scotia in the 1930s and ’40s.
“That couple, the Young’s, would take in unwed mothers, charge them $500 a week and either tell them their baby had died and then sell it, or they eventually did die because all they fed the babies was molasses and water.
“I was one of those babies, but I was adopted,” Bill said, explaining he bounced around to a number of foster homes, including a family in New Jersey.
“When that story about the Butterbox Babies came out, the kids that survived
started finding each other,” said Bill. “We had a reunion recently and 120 of us showed up.”
Bill confidently drove through traffic. He wore rectangular glasses and had a
collection of sunglasses hanging from the visors in the van.
“You into cowboy movies?” asked Bill, not waiting for an answer. “What was Tom Mix horse’s name?”
Old Westerns. That was another one of Bill’s passions. “Tony. Tony the Wonder
Horse,” he said with confidence.
“You know any cowboys?” I fumbled out a weak guess of Ronald Reagan. Apparently he wasn’t big enough to have his own horse with a name.
“Gene Autry – now there’s a cowboy. What song was his most famous?” grilled Bill. “You sing it once a year….”
I was about to blurt out “Happy Birthday,” but Bill couldn’t wait for my incorrect answer so he started singing, “Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer….”
He was so proud of himself, but he wasn’t smug.  “Autry’s horse was Champion. How about Roy Rogers – what was his horses name?”
The cowpoke trivia continued. “Trigger,” he said quickly. I knew that one, but
just blanked – and Bill wasn’t big on a 3-second pause in conversation.
Arriving at the Maritime Museum, I knew I definitely needed to work on my equine movie history.

Bill was a gracious driver.  He helped unload my bike and was eager to pose for a photo before hitting the dusty wagon trail again. 

Making My Bed in Toronto Airport (Delay)

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TORONTO- Bit of a rough start.  Delayed flight out of Milwaukee combined with customs and cumbersome bike box adds up to missed connection to Halifax.  “Take the train, transfer, and it’s only six minutes away,” said the helpful agent. “Oh, and you’ll have to take that bike box and your morning flight leaves at 6 a.m., so be here by 4 a.m.” It was already 10:45 p.m.  I just decided to sack out at the airport.  Had my air mattress and sleeping bag, and made do in a corner by the luggage carousel.

Arrived well ahead of time for my 2-hour flight to Halifax and already another delay as the front tire is swapped out on the plane.

I have the tools and feel like helping.  I’m going to ask.

Stay tuned.