Day 37 Nova Scotia - at last!

We're over the border and we've settled for the night in Loch Lomond camping ground - no French references here, we're on a Highland Scots run now!

My hopes of swimming in warm blue waters in Kouchibouguac Park were rather dashed by waking to surly grey skies. I wasn't impressed with the campground (grotty showers dampen the day...)  and it was too dreary to make use of the network of bike trails.

But we did do the Bog Walk! Great name, and great experience. It's a short walk, about a mile, through the forest, and then out onto a boardwalk over a massive peat bog that's 4,500 years old.

 It looks sparse from a distance, but at ground level, it's teeming with life:  massive ornate toadstools,  flame-orange mosses, delicate orchids and carnivorous "pitcher plants". And you can't step off the boardwalk in case you squelch deep into the mud.... We knew this was the most likely place to spot a moose, and though we didn't, Tom was thrilled when he actually spotted moose prints - the sign of the cloven hoof - sunk into the surface of the black peat.

We then went onto "Kelly's Beach", which our Frommers guidebook raves about. It's just a normal beach really. But you do reach it by boardwalk across a lagoon, to a barrier island made up of low dunes and blue-green grasses. The lifeguards' welcome board boasted a water temperature of 61 degrees but a) we had storm clouds b) the waves were whipping up and most of all c) there were big red jelly fish lapping at our feet. Er, no.

On our way back across the boardwalk, we met a keen young nature guide, who told us how she was trying to help the endangered piping plover, which lays its eggs in the sand here. Foxes and crows are very canny at sneaking the eggs, which explains why there are only five thousand birds left worldwide. So they're doing their utmost in Kouchibouguac to defend their own ten nests. The problem is, she told us, though they use techniques like erecting wire "tents" around the nests which only the birds can flit through, that just alerts the foxes to the presence of the precious eggs, and they then lie in wait for the chicks to fly out. So it's a real battle between man and crafty predator.

Out of the park, we headed south again - a second day of intensive motorway driving for Richard, which really isn't the point of this trip - but we cheered when we saw that we'd reached Nova Scotia at last - and promptly stuffed a bag full of brochures and leaflets at the immense and welcoming visitor centre.

We've a couple of weeks before we aim to head down to the U.S. border. How much ground do we cover? How much history and how much lobster? How many "sights" and how much ambling on the beach? Anyhow, I think it's going to be good. Thank you Nova Scotia.