Live vicariously through 30-something family guy Devin Trefry as he shares his quirky, curious, and adventurous travel tales of Nova Scotia.
“I grew up in New Minas (a good place to live) near the Bay of Fundy, and despite many picnics and afternoons at the beach in Scots Bay and Blomidon I was oblivious to the natural wonders and the beauty that surrounded me.
I have always loved to travel and live life to the fullest and eventually realized in my early twenties that I could do both in my own backyard in Nova Scotia. My wife Sara, two kids (Jaden 9 and Lienna 7) and I now live just outside of Truro (5 minutes from the legendary Masstown Market to be exact) and are centrally located to explore and experience the extraordinary province in which we live.”
As we rounded the point at the far end of the island we were excited to see a curious seal pop up to greet us. Then we saw another...and then another... and another. They seemed surprised to see us, but I suppose it's not that often that they would have visitors there.
I think a frog was the first to greet us, and then a few ducks. Next we were super excited to see something a little bigger moving toward us. It disappeared under water before we could identify it, but when it popped up again we realized that it was a beaver! I felt like one of those guys from a documentary wildlife show (Jack Hannah maybe?) as we sat quietly trying to get a closer look.
The beach was lined with an incredible fortress of driftwood that protected our private oasis. It was covered by smooth rocks tumbled by the extreme tides, with a strip of black sand that was perfect for walking. Sara and I enjoyed our surroundings while the kids decided to brave the chilly water. They were splashing about and having a blast!
Upstairs we encountered a variety of exhibits relating to the Mi'kmaw, Acadians, and Loyalists along with some of the most unusual artifacts I have ever seen. The two-headed calves and the dog-powered treadmill butter churn were among the most memorable I think!
The first time I went downhill skiing was when I was about 10 years old on a grade 5 class trip to Ski Martock. The only exposure to the sport that I had prior to that was what I had watched on CBC sports. After literally being drug up the hill clinging to the t-bar I chose to totally disregard the snow plow technique taught to us in our group lesson and I proceeded to shoot down the hill the way I saw the pros do it on TV. It felt like the steepest and longest bunny hill ever! But thankfully I had mastered the fine art of wiping out at a young age and managed to survive my first skiing experience to try a few more times before reaching my mid-twenties.
I could feel every ridge and groove of the hill through the sled's thin plastic and I no doubt needed the chiropractic adjustment received as we hit that well-placed bump. Eventually we slowed to a complete stop within about 20 feet or so of the sidewalk. It was an impressive run!
Being that it was November (with no leaves left on the trees) we had an extraordinary view of the water most of our way and we even saw a partridge! The funny thing is that it wasn't until two days later that I realized the connection... we saw a partridge... on "Partridge Island" - how cool!