Day 32 – Halifax
We marched back into Halifax in the morning on the hunt for 35mm color film for several of Andrew’s cameras. The only digital camera, the a6000, was on injured reserve and he was depleting the rolls of film in the ice box faster than expected. The first store proved wildly overpriced, but we left with the name of a second that catered to film.
We headed there and a nice man answered the service bell. He greeted us and quickly started demonstrating an extensive, and possibly Asperger’s fueled, knowledge and collection of film cameras. He had repaired all the cameras there himself and as he talked he would disappear behind the counter to retrieve whichever camera he thought of next, before proudly presenting it to us. As we left, still slightly over priced film now in hand, two medium format Bronicas, a Panasonic Lumix with an improved microscope objective lens, an older 35mm Minolta SLR, and several other odds and ends crowded the counter.
From there we walked to North Street and followed it across the MacDonald Bridge spanning the harbour between Halifax and Dartmouth. We stopped in the Salvation Army in search of Canada hockey jerseys, and of course finding none, we continued into the center of Dartmouth, growing hungry. There weren’t any appetizing, dog-friendly restaurants so we continued south along a bike trail parallel to train tracks.
We passed a few buildings covered in large graffiti murals and found our way to John’s Lunch, a fish ‘n’ chips shop near the ferry terminal. Full of fried seafood and potatoes, we walked down to the ferry terminal in hopes of cutting some distance off the walk back. We were told dogs were not allowed on the ferry, or even the terminal, and we walked back to the bridge which would close at 7:30pm for construction, giving us an hour to reach it.
Bridge in sight, a sign indicated it actually closed at 7pm, in one minute. We jogged to the entrance, giving the fried fish one last swim in the potatoes, and passed the toll booths without a second to spare. A construction worker saw us take a few photos from the bridge, and very kindly asked us to keep moving; he said it was okay if we wanted to stop for a few more on our way.
We got back to Halifax and took a break from walking, back at Propeller Brewing. We enjoyed flights while an employee and a Québécois couple admired Caly. The beagle adoration continued as we left the brewery, two Haligonians asked to say hi. One was wearing a Rogue’s Roost t-shirt. He was unaware of the anchorage, or, he confessed, even what an anchorage was, but enlightened us to the former existence of a brew pub by that name.
We let Caly run around in an empty ball field to burn off whatever energy she had left, a surprising amount for a five year old dog who had walked some thirty miles in two days. It must have been all the adoration. Sore feet carried us back to Isla and we went to bed still full from John’s Lunch.
