The Prettiest Rest Stop Ever

Aunty T loaded us up with fresh watermelon and we restocked the cooler after stopping at the local Superstore.  I had wanted to spend some time at the Bay of Fundy, but a quick glimpse as we drove across  the Harbour Bridge was all that was to be had.  Thirty-thre

Just a snippet of the Bay of Fune days sounds like a long time, but when you take into account the size of our nation, it’s not nearly enough time.  The Bay of Fundy and its infamous tides would have to wait until next time.

Not wanting to drive too many of the same roads, we opted for travelling through Maine rather than returning through Quebec City.   The state of Maine alone could probably keep the flag manufacturing companies in business.  There must have been a flag on nearly every third electrical pole.  I’m sure we passed hundreds of American flags in the few hours we drove through Maine. 

American and proud!

Welcome back, highway stops!  We had been weaning our cooler in the days prior to Newfoundland so we had been lunching at restaurants for the last few stops.  It was nice to be back to picnicking.  Maine had covered picnic areas with metal picnic tables; a little different.  The boys blew off some steam and played Frisbee until Levi took a shot to the eye.  It’s always a game until someone gets hurt.

Highway stop lunches again

About 100 kms from the Quebec border, we pulled into this nothing of a town for gas.  I noticed that the bridge leading into the town had a Canadian flag attached on both sides.  Curious, I went into the shop to ask why.  An old codger with a think Eastern accent asked me to speak a little slower so he could understand.  Apparently I had an accent, too.  He told me that the flags were hung to mark the sadness felt over the train wreck.  I realized he was referring to the recent tragedy in Lac Megantic. He also said that we would find these flags all over the area.  I was touched.  The symbolism of the bridge was not lost on me:  shared water, shared pain.  Maine may have seemed like a world apart from us, but compassion knows no borders.

 As we passed through customs and returned to Canada, we were greeted with what I consider to be the prettiest rest stop in North America, in a little town called Piopolis, Quebec.  The playground was bright and had structures that I hadn’t seen before, like a dinosaur with steering mechanisms inside its belly.  There was a romantic covered swing that Kim and I shared a beer under.   The washrooms were meticulously clean and had potable water.  The information cabin was staffed with friendly historian for the area.  By far the most impressive feature, though, was the planked walkway leading out to the lake.  All four of us delighted in following the boards to the water.  The evening was getting late, but not one of us wanted to pull away from this pretty, little park.

                                                                               

                                                                                                Even the bronzed statue spoke to us!

                                                                              

                                          Picture perfect, except can you see the optical illusion?

Eventually our stomachs did get the better of us, though, and we pulled into Lac Megantic for supper.  At first glance, the town seemed like any other.  The historic downtown, like many other small towns, was at the other end of the newer highway businesses.  The abundance of police officers was the first indicator of turmoil.  There were car, quad, and foot patrols everywhere.  At the end of the road, the remains of their downtown was sectioned off.  Across the street, somehow miraculously saved from the inferno, sat the town cathedral, now serving as a gathering place.  The tension in the air was palpable, and we hurried with our supper to get back on the road.  Our own Kelowna had been devastated by the 2003 forest fire.  From those ashes rose a beautiful new neighborhood, school, and playground.  I prayed that Lac Megantic would also recover from such a loss, and lean on their beauty within.

We had toyed with the idea of driving straight to Montreal that day.  However, by the time we arrived in Sherbrooke, we were all finished.  We grabbed the first hotel we found, and crashed for the night.  There was an unheated outdoor pool at the hotel, with thirty minutes left before closing.  Levi and I rushed to get changed and braved the cool waters for a quick dip.  Sleep swept across the Ducs foursome fast that night.