Category Archives: New Brunswick Bound

Letter from Saint John

How do you distinguish Saint John, New Brunswick from St. John’s, Newfoundland?

From a spelling point of view,  you don’t abbreviate Saint and there is no ‘s at the end of John.

We are in Saint John, New Brunswick and happy to be so!

Not only that, but we are in uptown Saint John, which would be downtown anywhere else. It is uptown, because when ships landed, sailors had to walk uphill to do what sailors do when they come ashore. It is uptown because we seem to always be walking up a hill!! Shane and I have been gently corrected several times when we say “downtown”. This distinction is important. It is something akin to spelling Abernethy (the village closest to our farm) – correctly. So many people naturally spell it Abernathy. You’ve got to get it right!!

We are here for two months. Imagine that!!? It couldn’t be more different from our usual surroundings at Kerry Farm on Stone Church Road back in Saskatchewan.

So many of the differences stem from the topography. Here in Saint John, craggy hills of rock (marble, shale, and sandstone) are delineated by bodies of water – the Wolastoq (Saint John) and the Kennebecasis Rivers converge at Grand Bay. Then, this freshwater courses through the Reversing Falls where it joins the churning salt waters of the Bay of Fundy. Looking at the map below, we have walked many miles, mostly in the small yellow area – Uptown Saint John –  the city limits sprawl in all directions.

Not to scale! We spend most of our time in the yellow area labeled UPTOWN, but have walked to the West (pink) and North and bussed to the East. Small city really spread out. (I left out the cruise ships, but they land on the left side of Uptown, closer to the tip.)

Uptown, the streets are in a grid of sorts, but suddenly a street goes shooting off in a new direction or a street that was Market is now called King. The predictability I have come to expect from prairie towns and cities is not here. To say that I don’t quite have my bearings is an understatement!!

Our compact apartment is tucked in the basement of an old brick residence (c. 1850) smack in the middle of uptown. In such a rocky place, there are few basements. Our apartment feels like a cave to me, with just a thin slice of sky showing in the top part of the single window. At night the ceiling fan makes me think of the steering wheel on a ship. The sound of the herring gulls has me dreaming  of ocean voyages. I am grateful for this cave (or ship hold), a refuge of sorts, because every walk has me noticing something new. I come home from all this noticing and collapse on the bed! Naptime…again!

So much to notice!!

I can’t get over the strangeness and surprises of this very old city*. Part of it has to do with the historic buildings with ornate and whimsical trim, gargoyles and carvings. I am getting a crook in my neck from looking up so much.

Here are some of the surprises:

Surprise: I notice  the height of the doors! Much of uptown was built after the Great Fire of 1877, and everywhere I look the doors are gorgeous and built for a much taller variety of human than we see today. Why were doors of yore so tall, I wonder? They are tall in both humble abodes and grand residences. Tall and strikingly beautiful!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spoke with a life long Saint John person. Each week, she picks a different architectural feature to study on her dog walks – mailboxes, door knobs, windows, trim, entry ways, fire escapes, window brackets, front steps. Just in the short time we have been here, I feel like I am learning a new visual language.

Surprise: walking along an ordinary street and –  whoah! what is that? It’s the sea, right down there at the bottom of the street! Not exactly the sea, but the Bay of Fundy – sea to this landlubber for sure. Because Uptown is a hill,  I am surprised several times in one walk by the blue water at the end of  a road! It gets me – every time!!

Strangeness: Because of the hilliness and the rocks a building can be three stories on one street and five stories high on the next. Although, there are many examples of this, the historical photo below shows it so clearly that I could  not resist including it.

Custom House, 1881 – 3 stories on Prince William Street and 5 stories below on Water Street. Shane’s grandmother, Jean Hammond, arrived from Ireland here in 1911.

Surprise: Shane brought along his “slackline” – a kind of tightrope he can set up anywhere to practice his amazing balancing skills. It never occurred to this prairie born fella that there might be a city with almost no flat places! Ever-resourceful, here is Shane set up underneath the enormous Harbour Bridge. (The bike belongs to an onlooker.)

Strangeness: there are two large and ever present plumes of smoke in the sky from just about every vantage point in the city. These Irving owned pulp and paper mills take the raw products from the beautiful forests here and convert them into toilet paper  – Royale, to be exact. The two plumes of smoke send my thoughts in many directions. a. The imprint of the Irving family is everywhere in the industrial port city. b. How did we come to be a civilization that poured so much money and energy into making toilet paper  with a “velour softness for an elevated experience you’ve got to feel for yourself”?  c. Enough random thoughts, Sue. Just buy recycled toilet paper!

Surprise: The Saint John Free Library has the most beautiful  blue carpet, sweeping across a large space, with large windows looking out to the harbour. I love libraries anywhere but the spaciousness of this one loosens something wonderful in me. I spend many hours at these  windows observing activity in the harbour. Has a new container ship arrived? Where is it from? Can I watch it loading? What are in those containers? Can I watch the tugboats guide it in or out? Can I see a seal? Can I learn to tell the difference between types of gulls?

I can watch a container ship (or two) being loaded from the library windows

We walk miles, we observe and notice, and then we nap! And nap again. Lots of new neural pathways are forming in our stodgy old brains, I think! Our uphill muscles are growing stronger. The people here love their city, I notice a moistness comes to some eyes when talking about Saint John. Of course, they can tell you all the problems with their city but they are fiercely proud of this beautiful and gritty port with its many contrasts. As for us, we are thrilled to be getting to know this part  of the world a wee bit better, growing stronger calves all the while!!

  • Inhabited for millenia by the Wabanaki (specifically Maliseet and Mi’kmaq peoples), this place is known as Menahkwesk.  Later Called Saint John, it was the first city to be incorporated in Canada in 1785 when 15,000 Loyalists sought refuge here.

 

 

Stranded

We are traveling from our large and rambling farm home in Saskatchewan to stay in a tiny studio apartment in Saint John, New Brunswick for a few months. Just getting out the door to leave on a trip is incredibly difficult for me. Even with lots of practice, I don’t seem to get better at readying myself to leave home. I imagine all the things that could go wrong!!

Once in the car, and on my way, everything changes. I am glad to be on the road. Worries fly out the back window as home recedes in the distance.

It’s a perilous traveling season – late March and early April. We can expect any kind of weather. And we get just about every kind of weather, starting with a blizzard blowing into Northwestern Ontario. Roads will likely be closed, even for a few days. A few hours later, we  found ourselves stranded in Dryden, Ontario.

With a warm motel room to nest in,  I  instantly I remembered how much I have enjoyed being stranded in the past. A few days to allow our spirits catch up to our bodies!

We can curl up under the sheets and dive into a novel, vaguely aware of  the steady rhythm of semi trucks passing by through the blowing snow on the #1. Until even the semis stop because the highway is now officially CLOSED. We are in limbo, safe in a cocoon of sorts. Limbo is a delicious place to be.

Shane tucked in at the inviting and warm Dryden Public Library

When we tire of cocooning, we can walk anywhere in Dryden, as long as we can get through the thick drifts of snow. Off to the library – a  welcoming  and light-filled space where we  spend a few hours and get a feel for this community. We explore Main Street, cross a bridge which goes over the many rail lines that run through Dryden, and cross the Sky Walk which goes over and rail and the Trans Canada Highway. We cross another bridge over the Wabigoon River which powers the towering pulp and paper mills. The river, the rail line, the Trans Canada – the arteries that connect this small city to the outside world. Shane and I like to search out the restaurant frequented by locals that is not a chain. We find the Patricia Inn Family Restaurant, clearly the spot to gather, and the food is savoury. We eavesdrop shamelessly.

The Dryden skywalk crossing the #1 highway and the rail lines

 

Art in the Dryden Skywalk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art covering a now vacant building front

Next day, Shane goes off to check out the museum. I set off to find a community created mosaic, aptly called “Pieces of Dryden”. Tucked into a forest above the river, the mosaic is made up of thousands of pieces of dishes, ceramics, mirrors. wall and floor tiles and other fragments of glass donated by citizens of Dryden. Lead artist Willene Moffatt writes, ” The natural beauty of Dryden’s Northwestern Ontario surrounding area is expressed in the flowing and continuous lines that move around the entire structure. The basic elements of nature, earth, air, fire and water are represented in the total design.” The four surrounding benches are situated precisely in the four directions – North, South, East and West. A team of 15 artists and volunteers spent many hours creating the sculpture using 18,000 pieces.” I have passed this very place dozens of times driving from East to West but drove right on by – eyes on the next town, city, camp site. Now I know it is there.

“Pieces of Dryden” – community art 2010

Close ups of “Pieces of Dryden”

 

 

 

 

 

 

This respite has had the feel of a “snow day” – stolen time. The unexpected gift of not having things go according to plan slows us down. We have no choice – Mother Nature calls the shots. Every time! Besides, Northern Ontario, like the rest of us, has not had much snow. As we travel East, people celebrate the first real blizzard of the season and the much needed moisture it brings.