Showing posts with label Shediac. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shediac. Show all posts

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Fishing



In the post below,  there was some mention of enjoying smoked salmon as an appetizer. Today, on an excursion to Shediac,  I was delighted to find another kind of fishy business going on.  Ice-fishing!  I am completely bemused and befuddled by this undertaking.  If I ever espy little colonies of brightly coloured ice fishing shacks gathered out on the frozen waters I am beside myself with delight.  I can hardly think of anything nuttier to do than to haul a small shed out into the middle of a frozen body of water, install a woodstove of sorts, cut a hole in the ice, put a hook on a line and drop it through the hole, then sit in the dark and the cold (in spite of the stove) and wait for some fish to be as curious as me about the whole enterprise.  I understand that there is some considerable consumption of alcohol involved, purely to keep warm. of course!  It's not really the acohol that warms, but the repeated lifting of the bottle to the lips.






If you look closely, you'll see two bucket sized lumps of ice to the left of the picture.  These would be likely have something to do with the making of the holes in the ice.  Leaning on the other side of the wee hut are the sliders that this ingenious fisherman would have used to drag the thing out onto the ice.  I wish I would have seen that.  He was apparently inside, because there was smoke coming from the chimney.


Now, I have never been ice-fishing, although I was once invited. But Pierre has been, so that's where I got my information.  In fact, another time he actually filmed two musicians "enjoying" the experience of ice-fishing.  One of them happened to be a singer from Haiti, who hardly even knew what winter or snow was before being invited to New Brunswick to be teamed up with another singer for a documentary.  Imagine this rotund, albino Haitian gentleman cozied up to a tiny, blonde Acadian woman, both swaddled in layers of winter clothing and blankets, singing songs to the fish supposedly swimming beneath their feet.  It was utterly charming. 

I can only hope that if our Haitian friend is in his homeland, that he is somewhere safe, still cherishing his memories of frozen lands and happier times.




There was a very impressive, heartfelt concert put on by many well-known musicians the other night to raise money to help Haiti find its feet.  A recording of the concert is available from iTunes.


Apple, the labels, and the artists are donating their share of the proceeds from the sale of the album Hope for Haiti Now and any of its individual live performance tracks to the Clinton Bush Haiti Fund, Oxfam America, Partners In Health, Red Cross, UNICEF, United Nations World Food Programme, and Yéle Haiti Foundation. Apple, the labels, and the artists are donating their share of the proceeds from the the sale of the individual studio track, "Stranded (Haiti Mon Amour) - Version 1.0," featuring Jay-Z, Bono, The Edge, and Rihanna, to Partners In Health.  


Monday, August 3, 2009

Sea, Sand, & Supper

Boat and gull heading in for supper.

Fishing boats heading out to catch supper.


A family heading home for supper.


Can you tell my head was wrapped around thoughts of supper at this time? It was to be our long-awaited annual feed of fried seafood at the beach just prior to C's departure for Montreal. Alas, it was not to be. After placing our order and waiting for an hour for our number to be called, C finally gave up and begged Pierre to drive her to the airport so she wouldn't miss her flight. I gave her a quick hug goodbye and watched them disappear into the setting sun as I sat and waited...and waited...for the food to be ready. Sitting there, I had time to ponder the fact that my bag was in the trunk of the car and all I had with me was my camera, the ticket for supper, and two half-empty (or were they half full?) cans of beer. Oh well, what else could a girl possibly need?
P.S. 15 minutes after C & P left, our food was ready. I ate my share and watched the darkness begin to fall, trying not to panic with thoughts of C missing her flight, Pierre being in a highway crash, me being stranded. Fifty minutes after having left, P arrived back to rescue me and his share of supper. C caught her flight with time to spare. We have some leftover clams in the fridge today, if anyone's hungry...

Friday, July 31, 2009



One of the pleasures of this beach is its diner on the pier. We usually have an annual "feed" of fried clams and scallops, served up with an overabundance of soggy fries and a hint of coleslaw on the side, all washed down with a cold beer. Tonight we refrained, though were tempted by this large gentleman's plate of lobsters.




Even bikers dig the beach...or greasy fried seafood.




A fingernail moon pokes through the sky.




Dusk is settling in. Time for us to hit the highway for the long drive home, spurred on by the promise of spaghetti with a quick homemade marinara sauce (in keeping with the marine theme), and a well chilled bottle of white. I don't foresee there being any leftovers.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Beached

We went to the beach and I plunked myself down in the sand and took a good look about me to see what I could see...Someone was having a nap while a seagull snuck up on him...


a fishing boat bobbed on the horizon...

a small white blob, perhaps named Bob, ventured out into the water while a seagull amused himself by making footprints in the sand (see them?)...

and then Fifi and Florence arrived for an evening frolic at the shore, anxious to get out there in the water where Bruno was already chasing a stick.