Bucket List: From “kick the bucket” (to die) + list, hence a “list of things to do before you die”.
My summer 2023 stay on PEI was book-ended by two stays at Maritime horse camps, one in Nova Scotia and one in New Brunswick. I’ve never really had a Bucket List, and in actual fact, for reasons I can’t properly understand or enunciate, the expression, much like the terms “Free Spirit” or “Fur Baby”, gives me the ick.
For a long time, I have very much wanted to be able to claim that I’ve ridden my horse Pai in every province in Canada, and given my finicky word preference, I’m not sure what to call my desire to put a checkmark in this one particular box of mine.
I’m guessing something like “shameless vainglory” or “smug self-approval” might do the trick.
In any case, this much is true: I would like to be able to lay claim to the accomplishment. As I entered the final days of X-Canada West-East 2023, I still had two last provinces malingering on my list: NFLD and NS. Newfoundland, with its long ferry ride, has proven to be a bit of a hurdle, and I’m not sure we’ll ever get there before I run out of money and/or Pai runs out of soundness. Nova Scotia, on the other hand…
Nova Scotia has always been do-able. The greatest deterrent to getting there has been my pathological unwillingness to divorce myself from PEI once I’m there. I’m basically a limpet, and prying me off the red clay surface of the Island requires some serious mechanical force. Last year, I did get so far as doing some serious research into the possibility of riding the Celtic Shores Coastal Trail on Cape Breton, looking into layover stables and canvassing harness racing contacts to see if some friend of a friend might be able to put us up for a couple of nights. The only layover stabling option I came across was charging in the neighbourhood of $120/night, for which you had to supply your own bedding and hay, and do your own stall clean-up. To put that in context, the most expensive layover barn I have ever stayed at on my various trips was in Ontario, and at that place, my $50 included hay fed by the caretaker, feeding done by the caretaker, bedding supplied, and stall cleaning provided; the priciest layover I’ve stayed at where I’ve brought my own feed and have done all the work had me shelling out a mere $30. So it was a hard no on that year’s tentative Nova Scotia stay.
But there are places in NS other than Cape Breton that have trails. On this year’s trip, I decided that my best bet for success would be to duck across the border from New Brunswick on the last leg of our journey, before I ever set foot on PEI and got firmly ensconced at the cottage.
Through a horsey Facebook group, I got in touch with Gillian Allan, who is a driving coach and judge located in Wallace, between Pugwash and Tatamagouche. After wisely vetting me through a mutual riding friend (which brings to mind an overnight I had with a Facebook acquaintance, on my first X-Canada trip, where the son of the gal I was staying with was appalled that his mom had invited a total stranger into her home. “HOW DO YOU KNOW SHE’S NOT AN AXE MURDERER??!?!?”) Gillian agreed to take Pai and me on as her first horse camping boarders, and my Nova Scotia riding was a go.
I arrived at her very pretty farm – which features its own Stonehenge in one of the pastures – late in the afternoon, and immediately after I settled Pai in, I was whisked away to a family barbecue at her daughter’s place down the road.
In our texts back and forth prior to my arrival, I hadn’t grasped the significance of Gillian’s reference to planting grapes. Turns out they have a vineyard, and were right in the thick of more or less doubling the size of their plantings. By the time I rolled in, they had all been planting in the baking hot sun all day, with more vines to plant the following day. I’d had no idea that there was any kind of viticulture in this part of Nova Scotia. I picked their brains about the local vineyards, sampled the excellent Tidal Bay from Gaspereau Vineyard out in Wolfville, and offered a bottle of one of my favourite wines from Vanessa Vineyards back in BC. I felt like I’d landed home among family.
The following day, Gillian and I hopped on our horses and rode out on gravel roads and farmland. My initial idea had been to take advantage of the very nearby beach riding, but the Canada Day long weekend meant that there would be hordes of people on the beach, making the waterfront a suboptimal choice. So we strolled down wooded roads and laneways to her daughter’s place, and carried on to a scenic spot on a bend in the Wallace River that her brother owns.
In the late afternoon, I joined her and her family crew for the second half of the grape vine planting. In the space of about 3-4 hours we got I don’t know how many hundred plants into the ground. So many holes. So many plants.
In between times, Spy the dog had some river walks that were Very Fun for Dogs, and we visited the private cemetery that sits on their land, and we went to Tatamagouche for excellent food truck noodle bowls and equally excellent microbrewery beer. I had a tour of the house and heard its history. I was invited in every day for morning coffee and breakfast.
Not only did I get to check Nova Scotia off my provincial bucket list, but, far better than that, I enjoyed what turned out to be one of my favourite experiences of this entire West-East journey. The best part of these road trips is meeting exceptional people, and my foray into Nova Scotia provided exactly that opportunity.
Summer 2023 on PEI was mercifully light on hurricanes, but distressingly heavy on mosquitoes – I am 100% certain that Pai was silently judging my life decisions and sending murderous thoughts my way for having taken her to this extremely bite-y hellhole. Thanks most likely to a conservative riding schedule, her niggling lameness resolved at least temporarily, and I punctuated my time at the racetrack with rides in the central and western parts of the Island.
And then it was time to go back home.
Last year, I’d intended to hit the road west shortly after Labour Day, but ultimately didn’t cross the bridge until October 5th. Though that east-west trip was packed with myriad delights, it slammed home the notion that there are some super suboptimal things about traveling across the country with a horse that late in the year:
#1 It’s cold. Really cold, like well-below-zero-in-the-morning cold. Like, wear foot warmers inside the “LQ” to cook dinner cold. Like, see your breath as you type on the computer in bed cold. Your food gets cold as soon as it’s off the burner. Your gloved fingers are cold holding your fork. A toque and long underwear become 24/7 wear.
#2 It’s dark. Roll into a campground at 5pm in June, and you’ve got 4-5 hours of decent daylight to set up camp, walk the dog, bust out a beer, cook and eat dinner, handwash the dishes. Roll into a campground at 5 pm in late October and you’ve got maybe an hour. You could leave earlier in the morning to get ahead of the game, but the sun doesn’t come up until 7:30 a.m. – sooooo painful to get out of bed in the pitch dark when your bedroom is -4C.
#3 Things are closed. Campgrounds often let you stay even if they are officially closed, but they shut off their water. Ditto rest areas. I carry enough people water to last me 10 days or more, but if I’m sharing with the horse (who is on meds that make her piss like a, well, horse), that number shrinks to something like 2, possibly 3 days.
So this year, I played hardball with myself and got my ass on the road a mere week later than I’d originally planned. On September 22, I loaded up my horse and hit the highway, ugly-crying for the first fifteen minutes down the road, followed by relatively restrained sniffling and silent weeping until I hit the bridge.
Something I’ve been wanting to do for the past year or so, ever since I first started seeing their posts on a Facebook Maritime horse camping group, is to check out Off Grid Adventure in NB. (Given my unruly passion for having both feet firmly planted on PEI, it has always been unlikely that I would bugger off for a weekend camping trip, but hey – a girl can dream.) Since I can never leave PEI in a timely fashion on any given departure day, it seemed like a fabulously good idea to make my first stop be only a few hours down the road, and Off Grid fit the bill: being a cruise-y 2 ½ hours from the cottage, stopping at Off Grid would reduce my subsequent two days to entirely manageable 5 hours driving/7 hours total road.
Off Grid’s website specified horses could be stalled for $25, or highlined/tied to trailer for free. As I drove, I mentally hemmed and hawed, debating which would be best – the weather was going to be fine, and 25 bucks is 25 bucks, but the Maritimes have been deluged with rain this summer and I didn’t know how muddy my site might be. As it turned out, the highline option wasn’t really offered. I laid down my cash expecting to throw my girl into one of the stalls, but was delighted to find that I could plonk her into one of the two shared-use corrals: no one else was horse camping and the horse facilities were aaaalll ours.
My original plan had been to arrive at Off Grid mid-afternoon and then saddle up and go for a ride, but, true to form, I left the cottage 2 ½ hours later than I’d originally intended. Weren’t no riding getting’ done that day. I did haul my patootie out of bed early enough the next morning to be saddled up and hitting the trail by 8:30 am, and had a decent 2-hour exploration of Off Grid’s trails.
We were back in time to be back on the highway at 11:00 a.m., and then it was off to Quebec, destination Royabie in St Antonin.
Horsey Notes for Camping Folks
Wallace
Gillian isn’t formally offering layover/camping experiences as yet, but she has all kinds of options for people with horses.
I stayed in a rustic cabin (toilet, cot, cold water, power to charge your devices) on the main property. There’s also an exquisitely charming 2-storey cabin a two-minute walk down the road with full bathroom, kitchen, etc.
Pai had a roomy round pen with run-in and shade.
You can ride out from the property on gravel roads and limited trails, or haul to the beach.
Discuss pricing with Gillian (try Wallace River Halflingers on Facebook or search for her on Google). My offer of payment was waved off (I guess maybe in return for my manual labour, lol), but I did end up leaving a ridiculously small amount of money as a token of appreciation for my stay.
Off Grid Adventure
Off Grid Adventure is relatively new and is still undergoing development, and hosts Mike and Salma are working hard on improvements. There are seven sturdy covered outdoor stalls on a pea gravel base, and two roomy well-fenced paddocks. I was directed to park my rig alongside Pai’s paddock, which was perfect for me; there are several roughly-cleared campsites nearby, all of which looked to be too small to park a sizeable rig in. The facility has a cabin available for rent as well. The riding arenas advertised on the website were still under construction at the time of my stay but will be offered to campers once up and running.
There is a nearby bathhouse with unisex toilets and a shower, as well as a sink big enough for doing dishes should you so wish. A rain barrel is adjacent to the covered stalls for horse water.
There are on-property trails as well as off-site ATV trails to ride on. The trails I rode varied from gravel to clay to grass. The online map is easy to follow. If you are willing to cross the 4-lane highway (we did) there are many miles of ATV trails on the other side.
Price is $40 for a campsite, plus $25 per horse for a stall/paddock.
una chica y su caballo 
Another wonderful adventure ,very colourful and enjoyable.
Safe travels 💘
It’s always such a treat to read about your adventures. I’m alway guaranteed at least one good chuckle and usually more.
One thing that had me totally gobsmacked was the mini Stonehenge. Did you find out anything about the history of it? Was it something rather recently made…as in put up by Gillian’s family or what? I have a fascination with things like that.