It’s 7am and I’m wide awake. For some reason, this time I wasn’t able to shift the jet lag at all on this trip, but I don’t mind as the pain of waking up early every day was rewarded with beautiful sunrises almost every morning. Like today. I’m brushing my teeth, looking through the small bathroom window at the sun rising behind the bay. The sky is getting more orange with every brush, and the occasional car beam passing on the street parallel to the water is fading into the daylight taking over.
Downstairs, Greg has already made coffee. I can smell it. For a few days, I’m staying with a stranger now become friend, who I met last year at the brewery here in Mahone Bay. I wasn’t even supposed to go there – it was the last day of my trip, I was tired, too warm as the weather was so hot, and ready to go to the airport. But something, maybe the universe (?) made me stop at the brewery, for a brief chat with the owner about their lobster beer. Two hours later I was still there, having the most interesting conversations that simply didn’t let me leave.
Greg’s life philosophy and that brief encounter left a strong mark on me. And here I am, a few emails and one year later, staying at his house, learning to slow down, find joy and learn to appreciate each simple moment. Greg lives with Oby, his white labrador, in a charming old red house across the bay. Currently his son Matt and his girlfriend Kenzie are visiting as well.
Ever since I met Greg, last year, something he said got stuck in my mind: “Live life between the lines. Don’t run out of things to do, run out of life”. He is the reason I said yes to so many more opportunities since then, because in the end, in life, we don’t regret the things we do, we only regret the ones we don’t. And I believe the more things we experience, the more people we interact with, the better humans we grow into as well.
We Lost the Dory!
This morning Greg is taking me rowing in Lunenburg, on a dory. His last year’s promise, “ when you’ll come back I’ll take you out on my dory”, is becoming true. You see, here in Nova Scotia it is not about if you come back, it is about when you come back.
It’s windy, but the skies are clear. We descend into Lunenburg and park right in front of the harbour. A friend of Greg’s is joining us. I’m excited as somehow I’ve been waiting an entire year for this. A dory is a small vessel, shallow, with high sides, a flat bottom and sharp bows. I saw them last year, being built in the Acadian village in West Pubnico. I even got a sharp wooden hinge which joins the wood together, as a gift from the carpenter.
The dory belongs to a local rowing club, of which Greg is a member. We carry the oars, cushions and rope to the boat, and prepare it for sail. Oby is the first one in, carrying his toy monkey in his mouth. It looks like I’m going to be the first one to row, alongside Greg – as I have no idea what I’m doing. We will be sailing to the beach across the bay, at the bottom of the golf course. We pass by the famous Bluenose II, anchored by the side of the quay, getting prepared for winter storage. The mast is already down and most of the deck is covered.
We continue along the quay, before changing direction and start rowing across the bay. The wind is getting stronger, but manageable. Half way I switch the rowing roles with Greg’s friend and take a seat in the bow of the dory. I don’t think I’ve done a good job, with most of the strokes above the water and my arms not being able to coordinate properly to row at the same time. As we slowly advance toward the beach, I can’t unsee how breathtaking the views are. Behind us, the colourful houses of Lunenburg become smaller and smaller.
And there’s sand! Greg anchors the dory and we go for a little stroll, looking for sea glass. It’s so peaceful here, with only nature making noises: the waves of the sea on the sand, the bird chirping, the occasional gust of wind. Greg points towards a barge in the middle of the bay and tells me that’s the rum boat. The local distillery in Lunenburg, Ironworks, is aging rum using the force of the water and the weather – the old fashioned way the spirit used to be aged in the past, on long voyages around the sea.
The wind is getting stronger and stronger, so we decide to return to the dory. We had it in sight the entire time. But wait, where is it now? Panic settles, as we realise the dory is floating 10 meters away from the shore, heading fast towards the mouth of the harbour. A couple of more minutes and it’s in the middle of the bay. For a second, Greg considers swimming after it, but that idea dissipates quickly. The current and the wind are way too strong, plus the water is probably freezing cold.
Plan B is now to walk back to Lunenburg, which will take around 40 minutes, grab another dory, and go rescue the first one. I’ll stay on the beach to keep an eye on the direction the boat is heading to. Currently, it is bouncing between two yachts anchored in the bay. 10 minutes pass by and I see someone heading towards it in a motorised tender. They grab it and manage to take it to the shore, in Lunenburg. Another 30 minutes, and I’m being rescued from the beach as well, by Greg, who managed to take the dory back to the club, and come pick me up by car. We celebrate the happy ending and laugh about the mishap at the Lightship Brewery in Luneburg, with maple syrup lattes and whipped cream for Oby.
Oh My Cod!
Oh My Cod! – what a fantastic name for a restaurant. Last year I tried getting lunch here but the queue was around the corner and they didn’t take bookings. Not even when you are a local – but that doesn’t mean you don’t get advantages, such as waiting in the car, when it’s raining.
I was happy to hear that Greg planned a family lunch here. The restaurant is very small, with only a handful of tables and small spaces between them. Inside, the atmosphere is buzzing. Patrons chatting loudly, waiters walking around fast, under the attentive watch of the owner, Paul, who is a character larger than life.
I ordered the lobster and chorizo poutine, because I can’t just say no to lobster every time I am in Nova Scotia. I feel spoiled, because back in the UK I wouldn’t even dream of ordering lobster in a restaurant without being prepared to spend a little fortune. Nova Scotia is the capital of lobster, and I don’t think I will ever have better crustaceans, anywhere else in the world.
My order came inside a large bowl, topped with a generous amount of cheese and parsley. The fries were cooked to perfection, smothered in a creamy, slightly sweet gravy. The amount of lobster in this dish was insane – easily an entire lobster. And it wasn’t shredded, there were large chunks of lobster in each forkful. The chorizo was just enough to balance the flavours and not overpower. Did I manage to eat the entire bowl? No. Feeling full and looking inside the bowl, it felt like I barely ate any. But trust me, I had more than enough. I took the rest home and had it for dinner later on. That evening, we all had Oh My Cod! leftovers for dinner.
A Stroll Through the Forest
This morning Greg is taking me for a stroll on a trail through the forest. The autumn colours are in full bloom here, even if today, the weather is not the greatest. We start the walk through large evergreen trees, which laid down a carpet of brown needles, leading us to a high bridge. This section is new, the town is repairing the old decommissioned bridge, to make it pedestrian only. We are high, very high above the ground. The canopy of trees, crocheting a yellow, orange and red carpet, sits below us. Underneath, I can barely spot the river flowing fast towards the bay.
As the scenery opens up, we reach a lake. Oby is excited and jumps in the shallow water near the shore, happily wagging his tail and sniffing the overgrown vegetation. I pick up red maple leaves – I realised I hadn’t taken my Canadian photo yet which highlights a maple leaf against the autumnal background.
We take a different path back to the car, a wider one, along which people have built houses. It looks like such a peaceful place to live. The house on one side of the dirt track, the garden with the river passing through on the other. I can’t imagine many cars passing by here, disturbing this beautiful tranquility.
Three Churches, One Small Town
How can anyone get bored of these views, I ask myself whilst I stroll along the waterfront with Greg. He is telling me how happy he is to live here, how he doesn’t need to take photos because he has this in front of him every day. I, on the other hand, take as many photos as I can, to always be reminded of these moments. I wish they would do justice, because what my eyes are seeing can’t be replicated by a flat photo. Today the weather is just gorgeous – it’s rather chilly but the sun is shining on a clear blue sky.
The colourful town is famous for its three churches, one next to the other, dominating the skyline from across the water. But most people just come here for an hour or two, take photos, and leave. In fact, just this morning, four buses full of cruise tourists passed us by. They flood the town for a few hours, queue at Tim Horton’s, and then move on, to Lunenburg, before getting back on their ship. The peace is restored in the afternoon.
Every autumn, Mahone Bay celebrates the Scarecrow Festival, in which the entire town takes part, decorating their porches and shop fronts. This is the last weekend of the festival and I am so lucky to be here for it. Last year I missed it by two weeks. Strolling on the main road I spot all sorts of famous characters: actors, politicians, musicians, fictional personas, animals, and creative scenes. In front of Greg’s house he’s built Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce.
Last night it was windy and a lot of the scarecrows are now on the ground. Greg, patiently, lifts them and prompts them back upright, as we pass by. I love this wonderful community spirit of living together and helping your neighbors out of instinct rather than obligation. The other day, the next door neighbour popped by with pumpkins from her garden, because she had too many. I wish I had the same community back home, but unfortunately I barely know any of my neighbours. It feels like everyone is keeping to themselves, hiding away behind the walls of their gardens, behind the doors of their homes. In Nova Scotia, most front doors are unlocked, same as the cars. I still remember how surprised I was last year when it was really hot and all the cars in the parking lot had their windows down but nobody was around them.
Afternoons at Saltbox Brewery
Saltbox is where it all started and our slow paced afternoons seem to always end up here. Today there’s a Celtic music band playing. Yesterday there was the pub quiz, which we missed though. Next time, as I love a good pub quiz. I’m mostly rubbish at it, except for geography where I ace. Give me all the geography questions.
The space inside the brewery is quite narrow, with large long tables in the middle, divided from the fermentation tanks by a several large windows providing a peek inside. The bar is on the left, with plenty of choices on tap. The floor to ceiling windows are fully opened, creating free access to the patio.
It’s mid October and we are outside, in the sunshine having a beer, chatting around and listening to the band playing.
Shopping Like A Local
Shopping for groceries in Mahone Bay is a wonderful experience. Sure, there’s the convenience store in the town centre, but that’s just for essentials. Today, we are going to the Mill, and then to Glydas.
Sunnybrook Mill is an actual mill in such a picturesque location, above a small furious waterfall flowing into a calm river. The wooden building with a teal roof is every foodie’s dream. We grab a weaved basket and venture inside. Greg is after the fresh baked bread inside a can, which is tall and fluffy, potatoes, spring onions, and homemade cookies. In fact, everything in this shop is homemade. The metal shelves are filled with jars of golden mustard pickles, tomato salsa, chow chow, cucumber relish, dandelion jelly – all with handwritten labels. The vegetables come from the farm. There’s punnets of tomatoes of all sorts, boxes filled with cabbage, cauliflower and onions, pumpkins and green gourds, as well as a few mushrooms. In the fridge there’s eggs and a bunch of leeks.
Oby’s a celebrity here as well. The shopkeeper puts her hand in the pocket and magically, treats appear.
Our next stop is the famous Glydas, the one shop Greg insisted I go check out last time I was here. But because I spent so much time with them at the brewery, I just had to go straight to the airport to catch my flight, so I missed it.
Glydas is something else. From the outside it doesn’t look like much – just a large white wooden shed. The open door on the side has a black paper with “Yes, we are open” written on it in orange letters. Inside, a hallway filled with large boxes of pumpkins is leading to the actual shop. And what an entrance! The first shelf I lay my eyes on has cough drops next to rolls of acrylic packing tape, next to decks of playing cards, next to birthday candles, next to fly catcher tapes. Underneath, there are band aids and different size drill bits. At the bottom there is a tray filled with fresh cranberries and another one with sweet potatoes. On their right, gloves and crisps. Advancing in the shop, the chaos continues. There’s condiments next to light bulbs, cauliflowers and oranges next to nails and pipe fittings, pasta sauces next to toothpaste next to industrial cleaners. In the fridge, I spot slices of sausage with handwritten labels, identifying them as “Lunenburg pudding”. I am very tempted to buy one.
Game Nights by the Fire
The back room of the house is small and cosy, decorated with green plants, comfortable couches, and a real fireplace. Every day, either Greg or Matt fill in the wood bucket and in the evenings we sit comfortably on the couch, in the warmth, playing card games. They taught me Cribbage and Yukon which we play in teams, on repeat, whilst the wood is slowly burning, sending crackling sounds in the air. The entire house smells of burnt wood, which is so comforting.
Whilst I managed to ace Cribbage quite quickly, I am still rubbish at Yukon. I keep mixing the rules, which are confusing in places. I keep forgetting the Jack can act as a different colour. I guess I need more practice.
Spending the Canadian Thanksgiving Together
My last night in Mahone Bay coincides with the Canadian Thanksgiving and I am very excited because I’ve only seen it in movies and never experienced it in real life. Greg decided to make two Shepherd’s pie – one vegan for Kenzie, and one meaty one for the rest of us. Kenzie is making apple crumble, whilst I decided to bring my contribution to the dinner with a plum pie. I brought a large punnet of plums with me, from the farmers market in Wolfville.
A quick trip to the local grocers for some last minute essentials like baking powder and applesauce, and we are ready to cook. Everyone’s taken a space in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, making dough, cutting apples, or preparing the meat. From the living room, the stereo is playing 80s hits. There’s chatter, there’s laughter, there’s Oby licking plates before they go into the dishwasher, and there’s a homey atmosphere that I, living on my own, don’t really get to experience very often.
Later on we gather around the table to enjoy the food cooked together. I feel so included and I’m so grateful for being here, for every experience Nova Scotia has offered me so far, for the kindness of its people and the warmth I’ve been welcomed with. It’s little things, but inside, my soul is shedding tears of joy. I feel that desire to buy a small piece of land here stronger than ever. How can I head to the airport and say goodbye, tomorrow?
For more articles about Nova Scotia, check out my recommendations below:
- How to spend a day in Halifax
- How to spend a day in Kejimkujik National Park
- What to eat in Nova Scotia
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