Extreme Rain Event

When I arrived at the Lunenburg RV and campground around noon on July 21st, it was just starting to the rain. Not ideal but not concerning. To ensure I remained a happy camper and my bed stayed dry, I threw a tarp over the cap on the truck bed, and tied it down securely. It was a precautionary measure, but I didn’t want to test the limits of the silicon caulking I’d smoothed round the window frame where a wee drip had appeared at the bottom of the sliding window on my last rain event.

Once that task was done. I left the truck at my site and headed out on foot. As you may have read previously, when a growl of thunder and a flash of lightning appeared, I launched myself through the doorway of the Ironworks Distillery. Departing there I may have had a slight stagger in my gait and I needed lunch. I found a franchise sub-shop, ordered a veggie sandwich and sat by the window hoping the storm would pass by the time I’d consumed a complete foot-long. It did not.

With my back pressed into the booth, I watched the cars drive flooded roads with inches of water and sandal-footed tourists splashing down the sidewalks soaked, their plastic ponchos clinging to them offering no protection whatsoever. Having drawn out my meal as long as I could, I crumpled up the wrapper, stuffed it in the garbage bin, then dashed out into the deluge towards the Knut-Rhuland Museum.

With the museum completed and no end to the thunderstorm, I looked to the Shipwright Brewing Company for respite. I finished my rainy day by staggering a few doors down to the Dockside Restaurant and Inn. Their posted dinner menu appealed to me and I was initially impressed with the great view of harbor but the patio was closed due to the carpet being slippery. (Who puts carpet on an outdoor patio?) The dinning area was chilly in my damp clothing so I asked my waitress whether I could move. She escorted me to another room that was not air-conditioned and more casual than fine dining.

The decor was dated but it did have a nice mural on the wall I studied till my meal arrived. The veggies and garlic rice were delicious but the cheap dollar store cutlery, no music and no WIFI plus a few too many flies, gave the place a poor atmosphere and I left disappointed. The outdoor patios, normally brimming with party-goers, were empty, I decided a bit of reading and a good sleep under the patter of rain sounded like a good idea.

Now I have experienced hurricanes, tornadoes, weather bombs, ice storms, tropical depressions, landslides, cyclones, polar vortexes, heatwaves, hailstorms, droughts, and spring flooding on the Saint John River that put the city of Fredericton under water. This was my first eighteen-hour thunder and lightning storm. 

There was no sleeping. The thunder cracked overhead with an intensity that rattled the ribs in my chest and the lightning lit up the sky to look like daylight. I have to admit I got scared. The wind threatened to rip the tarp off and I visualized the screw-eyes flapping free towards the storm like Benjamin Franklin’s kite and key.

The rain pummeled the cap, drumming at a deafening decibel level. I kept wondering whether the truck would be swamped. I propped the cap door open slightly to see my site surround by inches of water. Luckily, I had chosen a site higher up on the slope - the water streamed down to the next site, eroding the bank. My site was unlikely to flood but I still worried that my camp terrace would disintegrate into a mudslide.

  My phone vibrated to life with a weather alert for flash flooding.  

I could have used this info twelve hours earlier and booked a hotel for the night. When it finally ceased around 6 a.m. I gave a sigh of relief. The wind had calmed to a harmless breeze, even though the sky still looked liked it was in a bit of upheaval. I pulled on my rubber boots and waded through ankle deep puddles on my way to the washroom. Showered and dressed, I remained optimistic my sail on the Bluenose at 1:30 pm would be a go.

Knowing the downtown core could get congested and make it difficult to find parking, I left the campground before 8 a.m. The truck tires kicked out the loose gravel as they tried to get traction on the saturated hill. The town was quiet and I easily found a free parking space in the residential area on Linden Ave. I was getting my backpack and water bottle out from the passenger side of the truck when an older man approches up the sidewalk, slightly hunched forward, a hockey stick in each hand he was using as walking poles. He stopped beside me and said, “Did you camp in there last night?” He looks at my truck then points a hockey stick at the cap.

Fearful of being considered a vagrant, I said, “Yes sir, but not here, up at the campground.” He surprises me by saying, “Why would you pay there when it is free here?” I smile. I like him. He says, “This is a Ford Ranger, right?” “Yes sir, 2009.” He nods. “Great truck, I used to have one, Missus didn’t like it, too uncomfortable. Let’s walk.” He motions to move forward with his old Victoriaville sticks. I shut the truck door, sling my back pack over my shoulder and fall in beside him. He tells me he is 85 years old, never misses his morning walk. We talk about the storm. “Probably the worst I can remember

” He knits his brow in thought. “Me too,” I say. We keep walking with a moment or two of silence. He sighs and says, “My basement is flooded, everyone’s basement is flooded.”

He tells me his wife started in on him before he left the house to do something about the basement. He stops and looks at me, with fleshy blue eyes and says in a serious tone, “I never argue with her before I’m fed.” I snort out a laugh. “You are a wise man.” I ask him how long he has lived in his home, how long he’s been married and whether he has children. He tells me he’s been married and lived in the same home for 63 years. He has three children. “One is a Yankee, lives in Chicago,” another is in Ontario, and they are currently helping their daughter, “Her third marriage.” His facial expression holds little back. We get to the corner of Montague and Bluenose Drive. “I am headed to the Bluenose Company Store, I’m sailing at 1:30 pm,” I tell him. He looks up at at sky then drops his gaze out to the harbour. ” Well, I’m not sure you’ll be going but good luck.” He lifts his hockey stick again and points down Bluenose Way. “I’m going this way.” I smile and say, “Have a good walk sir, thank you for the chat, good luck with your basement.” He nods and carries on.

I walk in the Bluenose Company Store. A man greets me. “Hello,” I greet him back. “I am here to pick up my boarding pass for the 1:30 sail.” He grimaces and says, “The captain will make a decision at 10:30 if they will be sailing.” He explains that it isn’t the weather so much as that the roads are flooded so staff and clients can’t get into town. He says I will get a text when the decision is made. “If we do cancel is there any chance I can rebook a space for tomorrow?” I ask. He sits at the computer and starts tapping the keys, “No I’m sorry we are sold out.” I take a deep breath pinch my lips and thank him, Then head to the Savvy Sailor Café for a coffee and a muffin. I don’t see my new acquaintance from the Shipwright Brewing Pub but the Café is full and I get my order to go. Strolling down the waterfront I stand before the enormous Canadian Dime with the Bluenose framed behind it. A striking photo. I get a selfie, then walk towards the grand schooner.

Her deck is covered in a tarp, but the gangplank soon gets put out and tourists are welcomed on board. No charge. I stroll about the polished planks of the deck touching the ropes and rigging. A beautiful ship. I’m just about to leave the pier when I get the text.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement. I run up to the store to see if there are any cancellation for tomorrow. Already, a woman has her elbows leaning on the counter. A man and young girl stand just off to her side. The man behind the desk is on the phone. He says “OK, thank you,” and hangs up. He says to the woman. “I just had a party of four cancel tomorrow’s 8 am sailing.” Shee says, “We’ll take three of those spots.” I jump up and down in the background waving. He smiles recogniting me. “Yes you can have the other one.” “Yes!” I do a fist pump and a little dance on the spot. Others in the store stare at me, I don’t care. I’m going on the Bluenose. With the refund and rebooking completed. I have to get back to the campground and rebook my site. What will I do for the rest of my day in Lunenburg? Please join me again. Happy travels from Maritimemac

The Bluenose Company Store

121 Bluenose Drive Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.

1-855-640-3177

shorecrew@bluenose2crew.ca

Bluenose.novascotia.ca

No money, or gifts were received for this post, it is my own experience.