K & L's Travel Blog

1-2 October 2025

We started our day with some basic shopping before walking across the street into a HUGE Asian grocery store. We were dazzled by the sheer variety of soy and other sauces, not to mention the chips. From there we meandered downhill in the direction of the water. I thought we might walk down to the park at the end of the peninsula and see the piers of Southside Halifax where so many tourists enter.

Before we got to the water, Kitty took time to shop in a “Sweet Jane” gift store and I headed across the street to the “The Atlantic News,” an old-fashioned newsstand with a broad selection of magazines, newspapers, and a Margaret Atwood display. I ended up with a Granta and Kitty got a mini puzzle (New Yorker).

We arrived at the waterfront at the “Big Ship” pier and were as delighted by tiny a “F**ck Tr**p sign affixed to a bench as we were the big sailing ship moored there. We headed south towards the cruise ship piers, walking against the flow of tourists disembarking. One ship was diverted from Bermuda due to a storm, and the other had been scheduled for Halifax. It’s hard to take in the size of these ships unless you are right up next to them. And the amount of people they can hold. There were about 50 tour buses (Peggy’s Cove, Citadel, Public Gardens), and long lines of taxis and limousines waiting nearby. We tried to imagine the experience, considering that though tours seem antithetical to our style, someday mobility issues may make it a good choice. 

We continue walking south, though the boardwalk seems to have stopped. We are directed to go around the Farmer’s Market and warned (for the second time) that it is still “a long way to Point Pleasant.” We give up with that warning as it’s nearing lunch and we are hungry. Instead of the park, we head north along the boardwalk to the ferry terminal to satisfy my itch for chowder at Evans Seafood. The boardwalk is crowded with visitors, but by the time we get to the terminal, very few remain and we board the boat with just a few other passengers. 

In Dartmouth, we stay in the ferry terminal and have lunch at Evan’s. The meal was not up to the quality we remembered from a few years back, though we still enjoyed our chowder and lobster roll. I am moved to order a root beer for some unknown reason, but it somehow works with the seafood. They have several booths set up inside the terminal and Kitty strikes up a conversation with a woman selling dog apparel and supplies. She has these terry cloth mitts designed to help clean a dirty dog’s paws. Even though it’s large and bulky, we can’t resist. She still ships to the US, but she says US tariffs have doubled the price.

We head back to the hotel after another day full of walking and begin the task of packing. Our biggest challenge is the bottle of Ironworks Eau de Vie we bought in Lunenburg, but we wrap it up in my down coat, center it in my suitcase and hope for the best. 

We get up early on travel day and head to Cora for breakfast. The portions are again impossibly huge, so we are set for much of the day. We walk with our bags through the streets, heading up Argyle Street to the 320 Bus stop on Barrington. It’s loading as we arrive with a mix of travelers, workers and commuters.

The rest of our trip to Asheville is blessedly routine. We are in luck that the agent who checks us in doesn’t charge us for the bag, so we save $60.00. Bag check is a bit slow due to light staffing, but we breeze through customs with global entry.  All the flights are on time and our arrival in Asheville is even a half hour early. Mary is right there to pick us up when we arrive, and we go to her house to pick up our car before heading down the mountain to home. It’s pitch black on the winding, Helene-ravished Webb Cove Road. About halfway down we see a car stopped in the road so we stop to help and find a terrified Amazon driver, a young Hispanic woman crying because her phone battery died and she is seemingly lost in the middle of nowhere. I use my phone and find her destination is the next drive. Normally one of us would have taken time drive with her, but we are too exhausted and she had calmed down once she saw where she was.

We have the delight of re-uniting with our dog, Pip, and settling back into the comforts of home. It’s always that mixed bag of an ending, and this time the regret is seasoned with the political reality of being back in the US. But I take great comfort in knowing there is such kindness and a functioning democracy due north. In fact, I think we should plan a return trip to the Canadian Maritimes for next year!