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Boating in Britain

Barge and balcony

A narrow boat cruises past a waterside pub in Birmingham, the ‘Venice of the north’. (Allan Lynch Photo)

The world loves to cruise and Britain offers unique self-skippered cruise adventures. In an ultimate toys-for-boys experience, I’ve cruised Britain’s inland waterways on a narrow boat near Birmingham and had a cabin cruiser to travel to golf courses ringing Lough Erne in Northern Ireland.

Narrow boating was my first experience at playing skipper. Fortunately, you don’t need to know much, if anything about boats. To begin, the canals are little more than a meter deep and only five or six boat widths wide, so there’s precious little chance of being lost at sea.

The most work with having a narrow boat is working the locks which take you up or down to the next section of canal. A friend who took his young family on a narrow boat holiday advised me to make sure the boat’s front windows are closed when opening a lock. His rambunctious children twice managed to soak the boat’s living room.

For me, the narrow boat was a luxurious way to travel because it allowed me to step back from deadlines, schedules, appointments and the other urgencies of working life to travel the English countryside at an 18th century pace.

The waterways have a four-mile-per-hour speed limit, making this slow travel. The low speed limit helps prevent shoreline erosion while allowing you to bask in your surroundings. There are over 6,400 kilometres of inland waterways in Britain. Most were constructed in the 18th and early 19th centuries, before the invention of railways, as a way to move goods to market. Since early narrow boats/barges were pulled by teams of horses and oxen, the canals are lined by “tow paths”, which are now used by cyclists, joggers, hikers and local fishermen.

This speed means if you are in a group, you can break up so that some walk, jog or cycle the tow path, alongside the boat. Or rush ahead and wait for the narrow boat to catch up. The canals are laid out to let you float past quaint villages, through pastoral farms, fields and forests without the wheel-gripping angst North Americans have for driving on the other side of the road. Cost-wise it is about the price of a rental car and hotel.

I began my experience at Alvechurch, near Birmingham. The Alvechurch marina, where I picked up a brightly painted, 54-ft.-long narrow boat, is conveniently located across the street from the train station. My narrow boat had small decks fore and aft, a full bath, bedroom, and a large room containing galley, dinette (which converts to a double bed, much like a motorhome), living area with little French doors to the fore deck.

Before novice boaters are unleashed on to the canal system, there is a short orientation on how to operate the narrow boat.

narrow boat moving

Turning a narrowboat around the Birmingham basin. (Allan Lynch Photo)

Narrow boating may not be rocket science, but it can be a little tricky. Moving the rudder arm right or left is simple enough, but you’re standing at the very back, guiding something that, in my case, weighted 13.5 tons. Jim, my boatman said, “Remember, there’s another six feet at the front beyond what you can see.” Important to know when anticipating a turn, mooring and entering a lock.

Steering I learned is a matter of nuance. Abrupt, panicky, over-correcting, last-minute moves sent me sideways. Fortunately, narrow boats are solidly built, with steel hulls. They’re sort of like long bumper cars, hit something and they bounce off.

It was a relief not to be driving. I was free to putter along at my own speed, daydream, bird-watch, gawk at architecture, peek into backyards and chat with passing boaters and pedestrians. I moseyed past turreted manor houses, glided under humpback bridges and escorted by ducks and a swan floated along aqueducts over a highway filled with speeding transport trucks.

I went through the 2.4-kilometer-long King’s Norton Tunnel, which echoed with the

narrow boat in basement

A narrowboat cruising through the basement of a Birmingham building. To the right of the boat are two waterside pubs and a restaurant. (Allan Lynch Photo)

creaks of the boat and the sound of water dripping from the overhead Victorian brickwork. It had a certain gaol-like atmosphere. In Birmingham I cruised through the basement of an old warehouse and moored for two nights in the city-centre Gas Street Basin, making the boat my downtown apartment.

The only crunch on the canals can be around locks, where you may have to wait your turn. There is a surprisingly complete range of services along the canals, from water stops and signage to cafes and pubs as well as waterside communities.

My turn around point was the Black Country Museum in the village of Tipton. In theory I should have been able to back my narrow boat into a small T-shaped intersection then power up to glide forward. Sadly, while I excelled in theory, my practical application was wanting. My feeble, failing attempts provided endless entertainment for the experienced boaters.

One of the museum’s costumed guides tried yelling directions from the shore. Finally, exasperated by my continuing failure to employ his directions, he crawled out on a tree branch, dropped onto the boat roof, then took control of my rudder. In minutes he had me completely turned around, ready to head out into the main waterway.

My other self-skippered experience was a mid-week cruise to golf courses in Northern Ireland. A friend and I had a 32-ft cabin cruiser. It had two bedrooms, two baths, kitchen and saloon and a substantial wheelhouse deck. There are six courses bordering Lower Lough Erne and another three on the Upper Lough. A longer cruise itinerary has access to 20 courses. Away from the fairways, we motored to several of the 154 islands which populate the lough, exploring ruins and mysterious memorials, took in the Marble Arch Caves and dined and drank at a number of restaurants and pubs which line the Lough.

Both the cabin cruiser and narrow boat have a variety of options in terms of duration of hire packages (weekend, mid-week, week-long and longer) and a selection of boats with accommodations from two people to 12.

All boats are equipped with dishes, linens, soap, shampoo, etc. Guests can pre-order groceries.

Both styles of cruising are a doable adventure for most people.

For information about waterways and boat companies, check out:


A Canadian locked in The Tower of London

Kate Frame

Canadian Kate Frame can smile because while she is occasionally locked in The Tower of London, she gets to leave. (Historic Royal Palaces Photo)

Kate Frame may be the only Canadian ever locked in the Tower of London. Unlike Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, Guy Fawkes, Sir Walter Raleigh and Rudolf Hess, Frame’s incarceration was temporary and voluntary. Frame was, and is, periodically locked in The Jewel House with The Crown Jeweller, to oversee the care and preservation of The Crown Jewels. She isn’t permitted to touch the jewels – that is reserved for The Sovereign and Crown Jeweller – but she does survey the environmental conditions under which they are kept.

Frame is Head of Conservation and Collection Care at the Historic Royal Palaces. Her original title was Head of Conservation Housekeeping. She is responsible for the care and conservation of all interiors and collections – the paintings, murals, sculpture, furniture, giltwood and tapestries – at The Tower of London, Hampton Court Palace, Kensington Palace, Kew Palace, Banqueting House and Hillsborough Castle. She also oversees the Royal Academy of Needlework, which is responsible for historic and ceremonial garments.

Frame’s job is to straddle the centuries in the utilization of science to preserve history.

Aside from maintenance of the actual palaces is the care of the collections which comprise hundreds of thousands of objects on display in over 700 rooms visited by four-and-a-half million people each year. Those numbers create real concerns about damage caused by moisture, airborne particles and dust.

kew palace 2

The lesser-known Kew Palace is where the not-so-mad King George resided. (Allan Lynch Photo)

Adding pressure to the position, 95 per cent of the items on display are the property of Her Majesty, The Queen. Frame has regular meetings with The Queen’s Surveyors, the experts who advise Her Majesty about her collections. “Essentially anything here is in trust to us to preserve. We meet with Her surveyors quarterly. I do a whole series of reports on activities, and we get their support in agreeing to the balance between active use and preservation. So there is a lot of liaison, a lot of permissions, a lot of layers to go through.” Pointing to a chair in a gallery at Hampton Court she said it took 10 weeks to get permission to move it so the sun wouldn’t fade the fabric.

guard and guns outside jewel house

A guard and guns outside The Jewel House at The Tower of London. (Allan Lynch Photo)

Traditionally, the Sovereign has always had a housekeeper to manage their palaces. Frame’s title carries the conservation moniker because her job involves “all those good housekeeping things that protect collections from physical or environmental damage.”

In frame’s world every action triggers a reaction, whether its the vibration caused by running students on fragile 500-year old tapestries purchased by Henry VIII to keys scraping against wooden doors to dust. Dust, surprisingly, is one of her biggest challenges. She smiles when she explains that after serious consultation with experts they determined the best way to clean giltwood is with a small brush made of the tummy hair of German goats. “Given that these (objects) are hundreds of years old and they’re touched every day by hundreds of bristles we have to minimize that erosion from cleaning by selecting what is determined to be safest.”

Minimizing cleaning damage also extends to studier objects, like brass door knobs. “We could polish them everyday, but we would have no brass knobs left after 100 years. So we just do a light wiping, de-greasing and light waxing. We try to avoid polishing as much as possible.” So five days a week four staffers spend four hours a day gently wiping down thousands of door knobs.  And then there’s the issue of how to unlock a door. “We have huge key rings – mine is this big (she positions her hands as if catching a beach ball) – and all the keys bash against (the door). Those are the types of procedures we negotiate with staff. It’s hard for people to be careful. They have to understand what the repercussions are.”

While this seems a bit fanciful and extreme, it’s this attention to detail and long-term vision that landed Frame one of the top three conservation positions in Britain (the National Trust and English Heritage round out the triumvirate). Prior to working for the Historic Royal Palaces, Frame was the head of conservation for Heritage Toronto, responsible for 70,000 artifacts in 17 buildings.

White Tower

The White Tower within the Tower of London contains a stunning collection of medieval armour and weapons. Frame is responsible for it as well. (Allan Lynch Photo)

Her pinch-me position came about as sort of a lark. She applied for the position without any real expectation of being considered for it. Toronto conservation colleague and friend, Sandra Lougheed, recalls, “I thought she had a very good chance of getting it. She’s a smart woman, she’s very organized, she works hard, she can manage many things concurrently, she speaks very well, and she can relate information to other people in a really clear easy to understand format.”

That was 20 years ago. First Frame spent a decade working for Heritage Toronto. Her career path which lead Frame to an attic office above the Tudor kitchens at Hampton Court began as a fine art student at the University of British Columbia. During a year studying French at the Sorbonne she was shown the Louvre’s restoration gallery. “There I realized you can actually touch these things. So I then went on this mad campaign to find out how I could get to the point that I was going to be sitting in the Louvre.”

Told the best courses were in Britain, Frame managed to gain admission to the University of London’s Institute of Archaeology. “It was a general object conservation science-based course. We either went to museums and worked on the collections, or we went to archaeology. I did both because it was exciting to do archeology in Greece and Italy, and as the winter came,” she smiles wryly, “I moved more towards museum work” – out of the weather.

Hers is a complex mission because she has to convince layers of bureaucracy to agree to adopting new procedures in ancient settings. The bureaucracy includes the Historic Royal Palaces trustees, English Heritage (which represents the British government’s interests), The Queen’s on-site supervisor, plus Her other surveyors, and the government department which insures the collection. Diplomat is another aspect of her job.

For all the worries of her job, the comic relief comes from those evenings locked in the Tower of London. She does it less now, but early on, once the Crown Jeweller removed the jewels from their display cases Frame has squeezed into a narrow case to clean the interior which is the closest this housekeeper has come to doing windows.


A WWI nurse remembers


In a Flanders Field the poppies grow … they grew when Col. John McCrae wrote the poem. They continue to grow.

“At the beginning of the war we would go down to the station to see the men going off to the front. I remember leaning over a gate and waving to the troops as they went by, and the men would all run to the train windows and try to wave to us,” says Alice Margaret MacKinnon.

In January 1992, 96-year-old MacKinnon, suffering from arthritis developed from sleeping in damp trenches during World War One, sat in her room at the Veterans’ Memorial Building, Camp Hill, recalling her war experiences.

Swept up in the patriotism of the period and a desire to contribute to the war effort, the then 18-year-old MacKinnon, entered the war-time nursing course offered by London’s Saint Bartholomew Hospital. “I was always interested in helping people, but never thought of being a nurse. I didn’t even know if anybody in our family had even been in a hospital,” she said.

The training was short and to the point. “We never did any of the unnecessary work they (other nurses) had to do: cleaning and things like that. We had to learn only things that were absolutely necessary, like how to do dressings and comfort the soldiers. I knew very little about the medicines except they were very scarce. If you were constipated you had a ‘Number 9’, and if that didn’t do the trick you had a dose of castor oil.”


A display at the Imperial War Museum in London. The IWM was created after WWI so that people never forgot the madness and cost of war.

Before she saw front-line action, MacKinnon had vivid recollections of zeppelin raids on London. In WWI, warfare from the air was a new phenomena that brought the war to the homefront. One evening as MacKinnon prepared for a bath the air raid sirens sounded. “I took a look out of the window. It was a zeppelin. It was so close I felt as if I could have touched it. The zeppelin put its light on as they went along to see where to drop bombs. You tell that story to someone and they say, ‘why didn’t they shoot it down?’ But you couldn’t do that. They had all London under them. The gas or oil or something would do damage.”

When her training was completed, MacKinnon was offered a position on a hospital ship. “We had to telephone our mothers for permission because we were so young. I had never used a telephone before. We didn’t have one in the home. My father was town manager (for Hitchin, near Manchester) and said everyone in town would be calling him, so he wouldn’t have one in the house.”

“Mother wouldn’t let me go on the hospital ship. But she would let me go to France. So I went to France and the ship was torpedoed! The people were saved though. But we didn’t hear a thing at the time. You never heard anything. You’d read a newspaper and didn’t believe a word you read” because of the lack of information or overly positive stories, which were undermined by published lists of the dead.

Before leaving for France MacKinnon worked at a military hospital in Woolrich. “It was a large hospital with corridors and wards and a big cemetery too. I used to hear the bagpipers playing their dirge, and then when they came back they would play something cheerful.”

In 1915 she was posted to Etaples, near Vimy Ridge which was the main depot and DSCN9145transit camp for the British Expeditionary Force. She remained there until war’s end. In Etaples MacKinnon encountered a prohibition against dancing, keeping diaries and taking pictures. The strict regulations were in case of capture by the enemy, and in response to “the Crimean War when too many officers were accused of neglecting their duties for a social life.”

For nurses their only break was an occasional Sunday afternoon tea party which the Colonel stocked with eligible young officers. There were occasional invitations to restaurants, but MacKinnon, who didn’t drink, complained, “The men always seemed to like a bottle of wine and then get a bit fresh. I wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

Trips to the seashore were curtailed by the threat of mines in the water.

Zeppelins continued to be a threat. “I saw the zeppelins again on the coast. They went along the coast and took pictures of the inlets. Oh, they knew everything.” While MacKinnon could often hear the big guns at the front, she was mostly worried by bombing raids. Not surprising since several Etaples hospitals were bombed and strafed my machine guns. Since nurses’ accommodations were next to the hospital she and other nurses would occasionally sleep outside under the trees. If they were on duty when an attack occurred, they had to remain calm for the sake of the patients, even if some of the men crawled under their beds. She says, “After awhile some trenches were dug around the hospital for us to sleep in, but they would be pretty damp. They (the enemy) bombed us sometimes. We were very, very lucky (because the enemy’s poor targeting saved her hospital) but oh, it was so nerve racking. If you were on night duty you just stuck it out and hoped for the best.”

“Another bad episode happened to a lot of horses, which were evidently tethered for the night not far from us. A bomb hit a good many. The noise was terrific! I never knew a horse could scream. It was the most horrible noise lasting a long time. In later years I heard a similar noise when an elephant had been hit on a train track in Africa. The horse screams were so bad you hugged the ground to deaden the sound.”

In Etaples each hospital ward held 20 beds. Beside each bed was a small table. There was a hard wooden chair for the nurse and an oil stove in the centre of the ward for heat. While patients received three sparse meals a day, the night duty nurse’s ration mostly consisted of horsemeat, sausage and potatoes. Butter was a rare treat.

MacKinnon’s patients, she remembers, “were all so glad to have a good bed to rest on after being in trenches and to be cleaned up. One lot of men I had, the Queen’s Own Highlanders, were taller than the beds, they were all over six feet, and they all had their feet over the end of the bed. I would walk down the aisle and feet would disappear under covers.”

Feet were a big concern during the war. MacKinnon recalled the hospital saw as many patients suffering from life in the trenches as battle wounds. While she never saw any of the soldiers who were victims of mustard gas attacks, they went to a special ward, she mostly dealt with blindness, shell shock, tetanus and foot problems. “There were all kinds of foot trouble from standing in trenches. They would get wet and freeze. We had to be very careful because you mustn’t put them near any heat. It must be cool.”

At the hospital MacKinnon recalled convoys of wounded would arrive with no advance warning. Just as suddenly, patients would be evacuated to England. “It was never mentioned when they were going. Everything was so quiet, you never opened your mouth about anything.”

Mail was also heavily censored. “One letter Mother wrote came crossed out. She had been watching out of the window soldiers drilling and they blacked that out. Basically you wrote about your health and if you were alright.” Smiling she says, “My parents wanted to know if I was still there.”

Having to delouse soldiers coming from the trenches, it was only natural that she once shared their experience. “It was a terrible itch” and sent her roommate screaming from their room. Another time she learned how cold France can get when she almost cut her gums with the frozen bristles of her toothbrush.

At the Armistice, MacKinnon found herself not celebrating, but feeling guilty. “There seemed to be one final battle. What a day it was! I think I had to work harder than ever and I forgot it was Mother’s birthday. She never got over it that I didn’t remember.”

The armistice did bring one immediate change. Dancing was again allowed and Alice happily took to the floor, doing them all: highland flings, reels, squares, waltzes and quadrilles.

It was at the front that she met “my special”, Hugh MacKinnon, a Canadian medical officer who rose from private the rank of Major. After being de-mobbed Dr. MacKinnon bought a house and established a medical practice in Halifax. Once  he was in a position to provide for a family he sent for Alice. She arrived in Canada in 1920, one of the first of many thousands of War Brides. During WWII Alice continued her war service by volunteering with the IODE to provide care packages for and entertain members of the Merchant Navy.

She and Hugh had four children and 15 grandchildren. He died in 1974, age 92. Alice died in 1999 at age 104.

The last man


George Price is the last man.

It is Price’s sad place in history to be the last British soldier killed in World War One.

Private George Lawrence Price (#256265) has a further distinction of being the 60,661stCanadian killed in WWI.

The Armistice was signed in a railcar in the Forest de Compiegne at 5 am on the morning of November 11, 1918. Under the terms of the Armistice fighting would cease six hours later at 11 am. The time delay was needed to relay the message to the various military headquarters then down through the divisions, brigades, battalions to the front-line ranks as well as those smaller units and individuals hidden behind enemy lines and in rural and remote fronts.

Private Price was with a small advance unit trying to secure the village of Havre in Belgium. To accomplish their mission, they crossed the Canal du Centre into Ville-sur-Haine, where they knew a German machinegun unit was located. After taking cover in a local home, Price and one of his comrades stepped outside and into the sights of a German sniper 400 yards away. There is some variation about the exact minute, but between 10:50 and 10:54 am, Price was shot. Price was carried back inside by his fellow Canadian.

A young Belgian nurse, Alice Grotte, witnessed the shooting and risked her life to run to his aid. As Price lay dying he pulled a small crocheted flower that his fiancé in Saskatchewan had given him from his tunic and handed it to Grotte. Private Price died at 10:58 am, November 11, 1918, two minutes before war’s end. He was 25.


The dark, heart-shaped flower stained with George Price’s blood was preserved by a Belgian nurse who held him as he died. This is the last blood a British soldier shed in World War One. (Allan Lynch Photo)


Seventy-three years later, Price’s nephew, George Barkhouse of Kingsport, Nova Scotia, was in Ville-sur-Haine for the commemoration of the George Price footbridge over the Canal du Centre. Alice Grotte’s daughter returned the preserved flower, brown with Price’s blood, to Barkhouse.

The flower had been placed in a small frame, with a maple leaf and this inscription:

“On the 11 Nov 1918

On the final instant

Where [when] the peace is signed

You fell for us

The last victim of the sad conflict.


Thank you George Price!

A drop of your blood tarnishes this simple

Flower that you concealed on your breast.”

While news of the armistice moved swiftly around the world, Barkhouse says the runner carrying news of war’s end hadn’t reached Price’s unit when the shooting happened. So, as Price lay dying in a foreign land his mother and sisters were in the village of Church Street, now Port Williams, celebrating. They sang patriotic songs, danced, and like their friends and neighbours were happy and relieved that the killing had stopped. Unfortunately, they then returned home to the devastating news of George’s death. Barkhouse doesn’t know how the news was delivered to the family. Telephones were scarce and the Annapolis Valley was too far from Halifax for the military to send a team to deliver the message in person.


Barkhouse, who was named for his uncle and born 11 years after his uncle’s death, says his family didn’t speak much of George. Price’s death was too painful for his grandmother, mother and family. George had been the favoured son and brother. He was one of two boys and seven girls born to James E. and Annie R. Price. He was born in Falmouth, Nova Scotia, (outside of Windsor) and raised in Port Williams (between Wolfville and Kentville). As an adult he worked at a logging camp in Falmouth and later as a farmer labourer in Stoney Beach, Saskatchewan.

For those who believe in fate coming in threes, the sniper was Price’s third and final


June and George Barkhouse in Kingsport stand by the Minas Basin with the blood-stained flower his uncle gave to a Belgian nurse. (Allan Lynch Photo)


brush with death. Barkhouse says that when Price worked in logging, he was late returning to the camp one evening. He called for a man he saw standing down the lane to wait up. Just as Price reached him, the ‘man’ dropped to his four paws and went off into the woods. That night the bear wasn’t interested in Price. Price’s second temp with fate was September 8th, 1918 when he was gassed in an attack at the Canal-du-Nord.

George Price is buried in the St. Symphoriem Military Cemetery. Originally, he was buried near John Parr, 4thBattalion Middlesex Regiment, who was the first British soldier killed in WWI. Parr’s remains were later moved to a British war cemetery. In addition to the George Price bridge, there is a school named for him and on the 50thanniversary of his death and the Armistice, his comrades erected a monument near the spot where he was shot. It reads:

“In Memory of 256265 Private George Lawrence Price 28thNorth West Battalion 6thCanadian Infrantry Brigade 2ndCanadian Division killed in action near this spot at 10.58 hours November 11th1918 The last Canadian soldier to die on the Western Front in the First World War erected by his comrades November 11th1968.”

While many Canadians don’t know of Price’s story, June Barkhouse, George’s wife of 65 years, says that on one of their visits to St. Symphoriem, they met a woman placing flowers on war graves. That woman told Barkhouse, “all these years later, we don’t forget.”

DEVOUR the food film fest opens 2018 edition

The DEVOUR Food Film Fest started Tuesday night with their first Sip & Savour event in Kentville.

DEVOUR founder chef Michael Howell and Kentville Mayor Sandra Snow welcomed the sippers and savourers to a three-stop tour of local food and drink.

DSCN1006In the Harvest Gallery food-inspired art set the tone. DEVOUR managing director Lia Rinaldo introduces one of the short food videos aired at each stop.

The Surreal Gourmet Bob Blumer tweets from the Harvest Gallery.

Wineries, distillers, brewers, cider-makers and pubs were represented. Barrelling Tide Distillery served up cranberry cocktails. Among the participants are The Noodle Guy & Mrs Noodle Guy who dished up melt-in-your-mouth meatballs and artisanal pasta. Students from the Nova Scotia Community College culinary course served a pickle-and-marinade vegetable charcuterie table. Canada’s first gluten-free restaurant, Crystany’s Brasserie in Canning, served killer crab cakes. And Hills Grills served kumara curry and basmati rice.

There was more! It all firmed up the Valley’s position as the tastiest place in North America.


First Ritz-Carlton ocean yacht floated in Spain

October 9, 2018 – On Tuesday, with pennants fluttering in the breeze and long blasts of its horn the sleek un-painted brown hull of the first member of the Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection effortlessly slipped from its dry dock in the HJ Barreras shipyard into the harbour at Vigo, Spain..

From this splash, the first of three vessels comprising the Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection (RCYC) goes for a 12-month detailed outfitting process. That will be followed by several shakedown cruises in late 2019-early 2020 with “trusted travelers”. The shakedown process is longer than standard because, as RCYC Chief Executive Officer Doug Prothero says, “We will do more shakedown voyages than most in order to be full on-brand when we accept guests.”

Prothero is the Canadian who conceived and is in command of the Ritz-Carlton yacht experience. The idea is to bring Ritz-Carlton service to a yachting lifestyle on an ocean-going super-yacht.

He says, “Think of the casual luxury of a Ritz Carlton Reserve at sea.”

Prothero, from Port Stanley, Ontario, has had a 35-year career built around the water. Most recently he was Chairman of Sail Training International (STI), the 32-country organization, which trains young people to sail and organizes tall ships gatherings as well as a maritime finance consultant for Capital Canada Limited (CCL), a Toronto-based boutique investment firm. It was at CCL that he met Marriott executives who invited him to put together some sort of cruise product.

Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection 3

Artists’ rendition of the completed Ritz-Carlton ocean yacht.

The vision is to be unlike big-ship cruising and use the freedom their size provided to focus on overlooked ports. Each seven-to-ten-day itinerary is designed so guests booking back-to-back cruises won’t repeat ports.

“This is a hybrid between yachting and cruising. We aren’t trying to get to seven ports in seven days. We’re more interested in a yachting lifestyle.” To accomplish this the RCYC will have the highest crew-passenger ratio on “the most expensive cruise vessel per berth ever built.”

Each yacht will be 190 metres (624 feet) long, with a crew of 236 attending to 298 passengers in 149 terrace suites. There are five suite styles, ranging in size from 29 to 100 sq. metres.

“We have two owners’ suites at the top. They have a 90-degree view starboard and aft,

Terrace Suite

Artists’ rendition of one of the five suite styles on the Ritz-Carlton ocean yacht.

and 90-degree view port and aft. They’re each 100 sq. metres with a 50 sq. metre terrace and a plunge pool. These yachts are designed so that most of these smaller suites can be interconnected with the one beside them, so if we’re on charter and somebody doesn’t need all 149 suites we can offer them a selection of larger suites.”

Yacht One will travel the Caribbean, Mediterranean, Northern Europe to Atlantic Canada-New England and Great Lakes. Yacht Two will focus on the Mediterranean for summer of 2021. The rest of the itinerary is yet to be finalized. They are considering whether to do a northern transatlantic crossing which includes Canada-New England or linger in Europe before heading to the Caribbean via the southern route. Yacht Three, which joins the fleet in 2022, will be positioned in the Pacific.

Big news for Halifax is that R-C Yachts will use it for turn-arounds, allowing guests to start or finish their voyage there. Traditionally Halifax is part of an itinerary requiring Boston, Montreal or Quebec City as a start or end point.

On-board amenities include an aft deck marina which acts as a floating beach and five dining venues: an Asian fusion restaurant, an international restaurant that will shift between French and Italian cuisines, poolside grill, seafood grill and Aqua, a concept restaurant by three-Michelin starred chef Sven Elverfeld. Aqua is an a la carte option, while everything else on board, including gratuities and bespoke land-based experiences are covered in the all-inclusive price.

All suites, all dining areas and even the service options – from bars to spa –have their own terraces.

The out-of-the-box thinking for the yachts started with the selection of Spain’s HJ Barreras Shipyard as builders. Prothero shunned the mainstream cruise shipyards for Barreras which typically builds highly complicated research vessels. “They have a lot of experience in specialty ships and we needed a highly customized build.” That customization extends to the technology, which will allow guests to control their suites and experiences from their smart phones.

Another break with tradition was hiring one firm – Tilberg of Sweden – to design the ship. “Most cruise ships have six or seven designers, this has one designer throughout the entire yacht so we’ve been able to get a really cohesive design plan.”



Playing with our food


Valley people have made food competitive. We grow giant pumpkins – over 1,000 lbs. – then hollow them out, decorate them and race them across a man-made lake in Windsor. (Allan Lynch Photo)

I live in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley and here people play with their food. And they welcome others to join them.

Summer vacation may be over, but in the Annapolis Valley the fun ramps up in October. After several seasons of planting, tending to and harvesting crops and flocks, residents are ready to play. It’s only natural that the so-called “breadbasket of Nova Scotia” and most agriculturally diverse part of Canada would play with and celebrate food.

During October, Kentville’s population jumps up with the arrival of the Pumpkin People. Lawns, parks and fields fill with Pumpkin People and their cousins the Gourds. From October 6thto 29th 300 Pumpkin People hang out in town. This year’s Pumpkin People reunion has an On the Go theme, so their wardrobes, accessories and vignettes will celebrate transportation.

One of the Valley’s signature, truly world-class events is the Giant Pumpkin Regatta in Windsor. The world’s craze for competitive giant pumpkin growing was the dream of local farmer Howard Dill. He developed the Atlantic Giant seed which has sold around the world and fueled this international phenomena.

This year’s event is on Sunday, October 14. At 11 am there are 6 & 12k canoe and kayaking sprints on Lake Pisiquid.  At noon the Parade of Paddlers leaves the Exhibition Grounds for downtown Windsor and then the start location on the Falmouth side of Lake Pisiquid. The parade consists of paddlers and their PVCs (Personal vegetable crafts). The regatta starts at 2 pm. This year there is a class for motorized and experimental pumpkins. All day there are miniature train rides and vendors set up.

October 14this also the last day of the 2018 season for the Magic Winery Bus which provides a double-decker London bus as your designated driver, offering a hop-on, hop-off service, to five of the wineries in the Wolfville – Grand Pre area.

October 17 is the Miner’s Marsh Pumpkin Walk. Miner’s Marsh. Students at the Nova Scotia Community College tourism class carve over 300 pumpkins which are lit and line a 1k walk in this Ducks Unlimited wetlands in downtown Kentville between 6:30-8:30 pm. Admission is by food bank donation. Rain date Oct. 18th. Service dogs only.

These are followed by the world’s tastiest event: DEVOUR, The Food Film Fest. DEVOUR is ground zero for the marriage and many manifestations of art and food. It’s been said that food is first visually consumed, then tasted. DEVOUR puts food on the big screen, then develops special meals based on the film themes. One year, after a documentary on oysters, instead of popcorn and soda, oysters and vodka were served in the theatre lobby.

The six-day festival (Oct. 23-28) comprises films, documentaries, seminars, workshops, special meals, galas, receptions and other food-based events like the Bubbles Bus, Street Food Party (from a cluster of food trucks), Mayors’ Bike Ride with refreshment stops, and an Everything Apple Express. Events are held in Wolfville, Kentville and Starr’s Point.

DEVOUR is an event that the late Anthony Bourdain attended.

dscn1111In addition to the scheduled events, the Valley offers a variety of other food-related experiences. There’s a weekly Saturday Farmers’ Market in Wolfville (with a diverse range of on-site edibles). Throughout the Valley are pop-up roadside farm markets, with shelves stocked with just-picked, just-pulled from the ground produce as well as home-baked pies, bread, squares and preserves. Many are on an hour-system, so bring cash. In small denominations.

Outside Wolfville you’ll find a corn maze and kids playground at Noggins’ Farm, a Pumpkin Maze at Stirlings and fresh cider at Elderkin’s. And from Windsor to Annapolis Royal there are any number of community breakfasts, lunches and dinners based on old recipes and local ingredients. They are real home cooking. Check out

The Valley in fall offers the addition beauty of fall colours with great light for photographers and painters, great tastes and fun things for friends and family to do. It makes playing with your food acceptable.