Day 36

Leaving Halifax I motored south on the 103 toward Yarmouth, a four hour drive away. My plan was to make it last a day and hopefully find some surf along the way. As the fog wisps receded out to sea the sun shone bright on the rugged coastline. I passed a sign which read "Liverpool next exit" and below that a smaller sign read "Hank Snow Country Music Centre". I pulled off semi erratically and rolled in to town eyes peeled for the museum. I found it in an old railroad station not a thousand feet from the exit. I knew Hanks music, but I didn't know too much of his history. Within minutes I learned Hank Snow was a native of Nova Scotia who's presence on the Grand Ole Oprey made him a household name. He was more a fisherman than a cowboy when he began writing songs while working on a fishing boat in the cold Atlantic waters. He acquired his first pair of cowboy boots second hand from a guy who rode a horse in a traveling show that stopped in town. He bought a horse and trained it to do tricks and such then spent years traveling North America performing as The Singing Ranger. He, his family, and the horse all lived in the same truck during this period of time. In a video, his son recalled each night before the family went to sleep (in the same bed above the truck cab) Hank would slide open a little window not more than a foot from them and feed his horse sugar cubes. I suddenly felt like I was traveling lavishly. This was a great little museum which was a treat to come upon. Before I left the curator asked me to sign the guest book. She inspected it and happily informed me that I was the first person from San Francisco to visit. Hopefully not the last. www.hanksnow.com

I arrived in Yarmouth around 3PM and there was a mean fog brewing in the harbor. I decided to park the van and try to make it out to the light house in the outer harbor and back before dark. The fog was so thick that after a mile of riding, my face and clothes were beaded with moisture. Damp and quiet. I could only hear the sound of the wind passing my ears as I cruised passed both cows and fishing boats in the same stretch of road. I thought about the up coming ferry passage and the potential for surf in Maine. I thought about the smell of the subway in New York and the warm dry air that might be blowing off shore somewhere in California. I thought about my friends between here and there and I thought about that girl. It began to rain and I pedaled slower and enjoyed the ride.