Monday, 13 December 2010
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Sweeney's Wood Yard
Ted G-man, Portland, Maine.
Sweeney's Wood Yard, Manchester, Vermont.
Richie Sweeney Jr. got himself a 7 pointer.
Richard Sweeney Snr. and friends...
Prospect Rock.
stickin' it to the man.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
To The Ends Of The Earth (Nova Scotia And Bust)
In order to avoid attaining illegal immigrant status we headed northwards, clear of the U.S. boarder, aiming for Cape Bretton, the furthest tip of Nova Scotia, Atlantic Territories, Canada.
this was pretty much our lives during the trip; fires, snow and Bertie - our mode of transport, home, bed and sanctuary...
a lot of Canada looks (and feels) as if it's waiting on some apocalypse or other
Quebec
Asbestos! (we took a 60 mile detour for you Maxxx...)
Edmunston, New Brunswick - absolutely the shitist place I have ever been...the air was so thick and brown you could taste it...we left that place worrying about cancer.
driving along a 200 mile stretch of nothing but wilderness scarred with the odd logging work site, finding a lone work boot flung out on the side of the road warrants questions which shouldn't be asked...
come Armageddon, come...
charming water front views...
on suite kitchen...
central heating...
after a week of driving - Nova Scotia.
this particular morning was so cold, the insides of the car had frozen...
Cape Bretton.
Miles, the gardener at St. Louisberg - the largest historical recreation (a 17th century township) in Northern America apparently...it looked like York, or Chester, or any other vaguely old British town. Anyhoos, Miles was the gardener and seemed to be stir-crazy due to lack of human interaction, the way he leaped on us for conversation...he even sent us on our way with some authentic 17th century carrots from his garden.
Meat Cove.
Horn Dog, of Meat Cove.
Halifax, N.S.
Belfast, Maine, U.S.ofA.
Ricky, whom after chatting with for some 20 minutes disclosed that he hated all humankind. It seemed a little odd, as we'd been getting on just fine, so I asked him "what about me?" to which Ricky replied "oh, I'll most likely come to loath you soon enough"
Orange Hats (non Buddhist version)
Fort Knox. Who'd a thunked it?
sunrise.
sunset. so it goes.
this was pretty much our lives during the trip; fires, snow and Bertie - our mode of transport, home, bed and sanctuary...
a lot of Canada looks (and feels) as if it's waiting on some apocalypse or other
Quebec
Asbestos! (we took a 60 mile detour for you Maxxx...)
Edmunston, New Brunswick - absolutely the shitist place I have ever been...the air was so thick and brown you could taste it...we left that place worrying about cancer.
driving along a 200 mile stretch of nothing but wilderness scarred with the odd logging work site, finding a lone work boot flung out on the side of the road warrants questions which shouldn't be asked...
come Armageddon, come...
charming water front views...
on suite kitchen...
central heating...
after a week of driving - Nova Scotia.
this particular morning was so cold, the insides of the car had frozen...
Cape Bretton.
Miles, the gardener at St. Louisberg - the largest historical recreation (a 17th century township) in Northern America apparently...it looked like York, or Chester, or any other vaguely old British town. Anyhoos, Miles was the gardener and seemed to be stir-crazy due to lack of human interaction, the way he leaped on us for conversation...he even sent us on our way with some authentic 17th century carrots from his garden.
Meat Cove.
Horn Dog, of Meat Cove.
Halifax, N.S.
Belfast, Maine, U.S.ofA.
Ricky, whom after chatting with for some 20 minutes disclosed that he hated all humankind. It seemed a little odd, as we'd been getting on just fine, so I asked him "what about me?" to which Ricky replied "oh, I'll most likely come to loath you soon enough"
Orange Hats (non Buddhist version)
Fort Knox. Who'd a thunked it?
sunrise.
sunset. so it goes.
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