Games visitors should make for the ’personality provinces’ of Atlantic Canada

Press, 24 June 1978, Page 15

Games visitors should make for the ’personality provinces’ of Atlantic Canada

TLI THOMAS looks at Canada's unspoiled maritime provinces, far from Edmonton, and suggests that ...

Canada is startling red maples in the fall; or it is blue-hazed lakes and pink* capped peaks in the Rockies at sunrise. Canada is corn-gold prairies, or a vast grey urban sprawl with a cash-register heart, huge multi-storey, multi* million dollar buildings, and vigorous growth in

the arts. The big country that sits, still somewhat selfconsciously, on top of the “great excited States” is how you see it and where you see it as a tourist. To some Canada may be

the vibrant, exciting metropolis of Montreal that throbs with life and violence day and night. Or it could be the quaint, oldwalled city of Quebec under snow — a place of bigotry and hot, crusty bread from roadside .ovens.

To many Canada is the spectacle of Niagara Falls and the dizzy feeling that comes when watching the mesmeric movement of all that water as it tumbles down into clouds of misty spray. New Zealanders who go

on a tour of Canada after the Edmonton Commonwealth Games will all bring back their own particular flashes of memory from the colourful mosaic that is Canda.

But it is unlikely that any of their films will record a picturesque fishg haven snuggling quietly away from the fierce coast of Newfoundland; or a shot of “Green Gables” on Prince Edward Island; or of the old town clock built by Queen Victoria’s father that still tells the time to citizens of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

The “personality prov* inces” of Atlantic Canada are not included in package deals bought in New Zealand.

Time and money are the deterrents. Travel agents say that they get very few requests to include the Maritimes in itineraries unless a client has a special reason for going there.

It is a very long jethaul from Christchurch to Halifax across the United States, up to Toronto and down over New Brunswick. But for New Zealand tourists in England, Scotland, or Ireland, the international airports of Newfoundland and Nova Scotia are but a few flying hours away. Cuts can be made in other parts of a North American journey to linger a while in an area that is still insulated against the “rat race” nad has an inherent intimacy with the sea. Atlantic Canada is like a restful appendage to a go-go nation. The pace of life is slower. People have time for a chat and to extend an invitation “to come home for a bite to eat.” The summer months are pleasantly warm and golden autumn days often last well into October. Newfoundland — Britain’s oldest colony which became the last province to enter the Canadian Federation — has bred a hardy brotherhood of selfsufficient, unpretentious, and loyal characters who have survived vicious winter elements and a turbu-

lent social history. The “Noofies” have emerged as a race apart in Canada. They are proud of their province and its recent vast developments of natural resources in Labrador; their commercial fisheries and pulp and paper industries, and all social services. They are proud, too of their free university that actually pays students a small allowance to attend. Canada’s “Happy Province”

is catching up with progress slowly, but surely and is still unspoilt by speed and pollution. For a magnificent view of St John’s, the capital city, the place to go is Signal Hilf. To the northeast across the Atlant’ ; is Ireland — considerably nearer as the crow flies than Vancouver B.C. Looking down on the other side of the hill is the city’s sheltered harbour, usually thick with foreign ships including sleek fishing craft in from the prolific Grand Bank. Newfoundland is a paradise for deep-sea and fresh-water fishermen. From Cabot Tower on Signal Hill, Guliemo Marconi received from Cornwall the first crackling wireless signal (S for success) in 1901. Not far away Alcock and Brown took off for the first successful flight from North America to Europe in 1919.

Only a short drive from the capital are the quaint fishing villages, like Quidi Vidi which has not changed much in 200 years. In some of the more isolated northern outports the settlers of British descent still speak with the Devonshire accent of Shakespearian times, I was told.

On the flight from St John’s to Charlottetown, the first glimpse of Prince Edward Island is its redrimmed coastline dotted with little white lighthouses. Beyond them the waters have yielded some of the biggest blue-fin tuna to come out of the sea — fish that were once buried in the sand but are

now regarded as a delicacy and are exported, mainly to Japan. Every metre of the tiny, crescentshaped island is cultivated in potatoes, grain, and rose gardens. The tourist mecca of P.E.I. is “Green Gables,” a restored, turn-of-the-cehtu-ry house that probably inspired Lucy Maud Montgomery as tie story setting for Anne Shirley and friends. The author made the island and her characters come alive so vividly in her books that many of the thousands of women tourists who flock to see Anne’s bedroom in the old house every year convince themselves that L.M.M.’s books must have been autobiographical. They are, of course, fiction and, as such, have become required reading in a number of Japanese schools. Islanders themselves get a bit bored with all the fantasising over Anne Shirley and are quick to steer tourists to their art centre in Charlottetown, the capital, to the Fathers Confederation Memorial Building where a meeting in 1864 led to the formation of the Confederation of Canada three year later. And only a short drive away is a stretch of sandy bathing beaches, lapped in summer by the warm Gulf Stream. P.E.I. also offers first-class camping grounds, riding horses, forest walks, and sulky racing to “off-islanders” — those who were not fortunate enough to have been born there.

It is only 14 miles by ferry from P.E.I. to Nova Scotia, fast becoming one of North America’s most popular vacationlands for yachties, bathers, fishers and, in winter, for skiers. If scenic drives are the attraction there is the 185 mile Cabot Trail that clings to the edge of high hillsides and winds through lush green valleys, passes through lochs and glens. For a different kind of beauty there is the trip to sunny Annapolis Valley where trees hang heavy in autumn with the reddest apples anywhere. Peggy’s Cove is some-

thing else again. The artists’ and fisherfolks’ village of picture-postcard colouring sits above a quiet inlet and overlooks a wild sea that has pounded the coastal boulders satin smooth, and where lonely lighthouses shine their beacons to warn sailors of rocks ahead. Peggy’s Cove is the kind of place to drive to from Halifax for a seafood lunch and a photographic session. Halifax, the capital city, is an enchanting mixture of past and present. It has some of the oldest churches in Canada. There is an 1828 fortress that replaced crumbling fortifications put up as far back as 1749 on Citadel Hill, where the roundtower town clock of 1803 still ticks the minutes away as it looks down disdainfully on high-rise commercial buildings which have recently mushroomed along the busy waterfront of one of the deepest natural harbours in the world.

Haligonians took just so much redevelopment and urban face-lifts and dug in their toes. (Dartmouth, across the harbour bridge, could get on with its flourishing industries and ugly steel structures.) The Halifax Historic Properties has restored little streets, eighteenth and nineteenth century warehouses along the waterfront that once stored privateers’ booty. In

these old stone buildings now are authentically transformed shops, lamplit restaurants, and a lively pub. Nearby is moored Bluenose 11, replica of the famous racing schooner, which takes tourists on cruises under full sail. On a rise above a once bustling port of doubtful dealings, merchants’ mansions, cottages, and churches have also

been brought back to their original states. Halifax has had its share of rebuilding and restoring. Much of the city was erased when the French freighter Mount Blanc (full of explosives) collided with the Belgian relief ship, Imo, in midharbour in December, 1917, and exploded. The hospitable people of this province, whether of

Scottish, English, French, or German descent, preserve their own cultural inheritance while keeping up with the present as Nova Scotians — doing it their way, at their own pace, for the way of life they want. And universities, such as Dalhousie, play their part in keeping alive old customs and crafts. From Nova Scotia it is

only a matter of crossing a border to New Brunswick, the fourth Atlantic province. And after a relaxed holiday of browsing round the Maritimes, tourists feel refreshed and ready to continue a more hectic itinerary within Canada or to journey south through Maine into the United States for the rest of their North American excursion.