Calling down the Moon

Last night (27 September), wow!  Full Moon, Harvest Moon, Super Moon, Blood Moon, total eclipse of the Moon.  The only thing missing was an astronomical high tide, but the eclipse makes that impossible – wrong alignment of the three bodies.  Add to the lunar events the fact that we had a nearly crystal clear sky and warmer than usual temperatures – it was 12ºC on the coast, not summer but not bad for the end of September – and you have all the makings of a very good night.

As you can see I used my magic staff to pull the moon down a little early so I could do a twilight shot.

I went off to the beach to watch the eclipse.  Why?  Because the open spaces there give me a long view in all directions and very little artificial light to spoil any photos that I would take.  Despite the good weather I had the place mostly to myself, even before twilight.  Sure there were a few dog walkers on the beach and one person galloping across the sand on a very happy horse but they retreated before daylight waned.  I set up the tripods for my camera and my astronomical  binoculars, unfolded my deck chair and laid out the rest of my gear on a convenient picnic table, zipped up my parka and waited.  

Every now and again I would wander forward to where I had a better view of the beach.  This confirmed that I was alone except for one twenty-something woman who, clad in dark sweats, was promenading back and forth along the beach, always casting a glance in my direction when she passed.  She had an expectant look about her, the sort of look I recognized as “When is this person going to leave?”  I drew my conclusions and the next time she passed we were within speaking distance.  I asked if she was waiting for me to leave so she could go skinnydipping – she hesitated for a moment but then said yes, she was.  I told her that I wasn’t leaving because I was there for the eclipse and intended to do some skinnydipping myself.  I also told her not to worry because I was a card-carrying naturist.  She came forward and asked me to prove it. 

If any of you have ever doubted the value of belonging to your national naturist/nudist organization let me put forward this single encounter as the gold star reason to join up -- the ability to establish one's bona fides.  I showed her my FCN Card -- don't leave home without it.  “Huh,” she said, “So you are.  Hang on a moment and I’ll come up.”  And so she did, thereby providing me with pleasant company for the rest of the evening. 

Indeed I had two aims for last evening: observing and photographing the eclipse and a bit of moonlight skinnydipping.  As it happened the tide was mostly out when I arrived, thereby making it a fairly long sprint from the high tide mark to the low tide line.  But once everyone else had cleared off and their taillights had disappeared we doffed our kit above the high tide mark, trotted across the sand and frolicked in the surf for a short time.  The surf was running at about two feet with a fairly brisk onshore breeze and the water was warmer than it had been in July this year.  Still, given the air temperature, we didn’t linger once we got out of the water.  This wasn’t an endurance event after all, just one done for the principle of the thing:  "Life is short; Play naked."  Let me repeat that:

We quickly regained my astro camp, found that nobody new had arrived and shared out some the coffee and treats I had brought.  The moon was well up at this point and well short of the onset of the eclipse.  That made the sky so bright that it was distinctly blue to the naked eye, even though it shows as black in the photos.  Stars were difficult to see until a few hours later.  I took a few shots of the moon at different heights before the eclipse and some several minutes apart once the event began. 

When the eclipse reached the halfway point we decided to head for the surf again.  It was substantially nearer by this time so we stripped off where we were and went down the slope to the beach.  The surf, along with being nearer, was somewhat larger now, with some waves nearing three feet.  That’s a bit of a shocker when it hits below the belt and travels upward.  It didn’t take us long to get thoroughly wet, then scamper back up the hill for more coffee and cookies.  This time I lit a campfire in one of the firepits to provide some welcome warmth.  Then we settled in to a combination of Moon Watch and Bay Watch as the moon turned from butter to blood.

As the moon was steadily being eaten by the wolf the surrounding sky grew correspondingly darker and soon the stars were shining brilliantly.  The Milky Way was clearly visible and we laid back on a groundsheet with me pointing out the constellations and planets because I had my Sky and Telescope cheat-sheet and a planisphere with me.

Totality of the eclipse arrived at 11:47 with high tide close behind at 11:51 ADT – time for a third and final dip in the sea.  Of course this trip was shorter than the last, and so was the time spent in the water.  It was now time to pack up, drown the fire and head to our respective homes. 

Naturism in theory.  Naturism in action.  You meet the nicest people when you're naked.

Rail-lining

Once upon a time, many long ages ago, when Detroit dinosaurs ruled the Earth, this province was chockablock with railway lines.  You could go nearly anywhere in the province by railway and the train staff was usually pleased to stop their iron horse to let you dismount where and when you wished.  People used to go fishing by train, simply telling the conductor what stream they wanted to get off at and that was that.  A returning train late in the day was flagged down and home they went.  These days are gone now, and never will return.  I can do without the Detroit dinosaurs but I most assuredly miss the trains.

This map, adapted from the NB Railway Museum, shows most of the historical NB railway lines

What we have now is a few active subdivisions of the CNR, the NB Southern Railway, too damned few passenger trains, and a lot of abandoned railway lines.  Most of the right-of-way for the lines abandoned during the last few decades has been converted into multi-use trails.  Some, sadly, have been abandoned to nature and it is now almost impossible to follow their course.  However, as you can see from comparing the two maps, there are now a lot of remote trails to hike.

Today's sad remnant

Railway lines make good places for naked hiking, it gives new meaning to the term "train buff."  The rail lines are good for a variety of reasons, first and foremost, they usually run for miles through the middle of nowhere so the chances of being seen and complained about are pretty minimal.  They also cross rivers and streams where you can fish or swim.  Also, being rail lines, they always have an easy grade so hills are at an absolute minimum, making them good for bicycling too.  Those rail lines that have been converted into multi-use trails usually have pretty good going wherever they haven’t been trashed by ATVs.  The lost and forlorn lines are more likely to be trashed but even the improved trails can suffer badly from heavy ATV use, whether from being rutted, or turned into mud holes, or desecrated by litter.  Even so, they are a good bet for all the reasons at the beginning of this paragraph.

Active railway lines are not good bets for naked hiking, not even for shorter hikes.  I DO NOT advocate hiking on active rail lines.  Why not?  Secondarily, because it is trespassing on railway property and some of their employees can get quite cranky about that.  But first and foremost, because it is dangerous.  Railway lines have a bad reputation for being inhabited by great thundering steel monsters that weigh a gazillion tons and simply can’t stop with any degree of ease.  Meddle not in the affairs of speeding steel monsters, for you are fragile and squishy, and they are not.

But . . . if you do decide to hike along an active railway for goodness sake keep your eyes open well in the distance ahead and look behind you every couple of minutes so the train doesn’t sneak up on you.  If you do both these things you will see the train long before the engineer sees you – those four big 200k candlepower headlights cannot be missed.  Then, get off the track immediately, far enough off the track that the engineer can’t see you and worry that you might fall in front of his train at the last minute.   Give him a break, it’s a stressful job.

Also, keep your ears open.  I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go for a hike in the wilds and then plug their earbuds in and listen to their MP3 player.  But people do it; I’ve seen it.  People have gotten run over by trains because of it.  The fact is that many people crank up their music to a level where they can no longer hear something so loud as a train horn -- 90 dB at 152 metres (500 feet).  How stupid is that ?!?!  Pretty stupid, and well deserving of a Darwin Award.

If you go hiking the train tracks (in Canada) a moderately active single line is going to look something like this, with shiny top surfaces on the rails and not much vegetation except a bit of grass or weeds growing on the railbed:

 
However, you are in luck if you know where to find a railway line that is out of use but not decommissioned.  Why lucky?  Because railway tracks still equipped with rails and ties make a very uncomfortable ATV trail so the ATVers go elsewhere.  Therefore hikers can have such rail lines all to themselves.  

Such a rail line is shown below, with rusted top surfaces on the rails and lots of vegetation such as bushes and berry canes growing up between the rails.  Note the encroachment on both sides of the right-of-way and the decrepit ties . . . all good signs.  (Caveat for US readers:  Some active US rail lines look far worse than that shown in the photo below -- don't be fooled by a railway with crappy maintenance.)

No, those signs weren't really there, I added them

If you’ve got one of these lines at your disposal you’re golden.  Check it out on Google Earth so you know what to expect all the way down the line, especially at road crossings, if any.

Most important, have fun!  And watch out for moose crossing the railroad.

Blooming Point Beach

Please note, Blooming Point is NOT in New Brunswick; it is in our neighbour, Prince Edward Island.  Also note that this beach is not an official nudist beach but has been used as such for so long that it may as well be.

First, Blooming Point has a really great beach, unspoiled by development of any kind.  It is a red sand beach backed by dunes of moderate height and a large marsh which keeps development at bay.  It is fronted by the relatively warmer waters of the Gulf of St Lawrence.

Satellite photo adapted from Google Earth -- the vignette shows the gap in the dunes at the end of the road

Second, it is really easy to find and to get there.  The down side is that there are no facilities on the beach, so do the necessary before you get there and take whatever you need for a day at the beach.   Note: In 2014 there were some porta-potties at the parking area.  In 2015 they were not provided.  The situation for 2016 and beyond is a crap shoot, pun intended.

How to get there . . .

If you are travelling from Charlottetown you should be on PEI Hwy #2 EAST.  Watch for Hwy #6 on the left and ignore it.  Now watch for Hwy 218/219 on the left.  A short distance in advance of that necessary turn the PEI highways folks have thoughtfully erected a sign indicating Hwy 218 to the right – don’t go there.  As for Hwy 218 to the LEFT they have cleverly indicated it (as of July 2105) with a sign half hidden in the bushes saying “Blooming Point Road” –  turn LEFT there.  Within 1.5 kms you come to a Y-junction of Hwys 218 & 219 – take the right-hand fork onto Hwy 218.  Hold on a minute . . . 

For those of you who are coming from Cavendish or anywhere else on PEI’s north-east coast you’ll likely be on Hwy # 6 or some other name/number for it.  Head for Tracadie and when you get there watch for the junction with Hwy 219 on your LEFT, then follow Hwy 219 to its junction with Hwy 218.

Okay, now that we are all in the same place, follow Hwy 218 ( Blooming Point Road ) for about 7.4 kms to MacDonald Road on the LEFT.  If the pavement of Hwy 218 ends beneath your tires you have just missed your turn – go back.  Follow MacDonald Road 1.25 kms to the ample dirt  parking lot on the right, and a further 0.45 kms to the drop-off area.  DO NOT park at the drop-off area – cars have been towed for that, so don’t do it.  Some of the locals park there but for a 450 metre walk do you want to take the chance?

Are we there yet?

Almost.  The path from the drop-off area to the beach is a short, wide, well-trodden and rising gap through the soft sand of the dunes.  When you get to the beach turn LEFT (textiles turn right) and walk at least five hundred metres before you set up your beach camp.  Usually there will be someone already camped at or near the limit of tolerance so that will be a good marker.  Within the “N Zone” you can usually walk for four kms (one way) to the end of the point.  It used to be a 6.5 km walk but Blooming Point got bobbed in the winter of 2010 when a storm tide cut the end off it.  Early in the season be aware that park officials might close part of the beach during the breeding season for the endangered piping plover.  Please respect the signs indicated the closed area. 

Blooming Point Beach is often quite windy so some sort of windbreak / shelter will make your visit there much more pleasant.  I recommend the SportBrella, a bargain at about 70 $Cdn from most vendors.

Cheeseman Beach

Cheeseman Beach is NOT an official nude beach.  However it is used as such by at least a few local naturists willing to make the trek, and because of the trek it is really quite secluded.   Degree of difficulty getting there: Difficult to ARDUOUS, depending on which way you go.

Amenities: Nature, solitude, a fine sand beach and enough space for a comfortable camp above the tide line.  Other than that, nothing.  Anything that you’re going to need must be brought with you.  Anything that you brought with you must be taken back with you.

Wildlife:  On land:  moose, black bear, coyote, raccoons and smaller critters.  In the air: mostly sea birds.  In the water: usually harbour seals, sometimes porpoises and, rarely, pilot whales.

The beach is sandy and largish.  At high tide the water is muddy and very cold.  At low tide the tidal mud flats stretch out a long way and in some places can be somewhat treacherous. Best advice – stay on the beach.  When the tide comes in it comes in fast and often brings fog with it.  At low tide Frenchmans Creek becomes a small brook and is great for stream walking.

Satellite photo adapted from Google Earth

How to get there . . . 
 
Cheeseman is located on Canadian Nature Conservancy (1) land on the eastern shore of the Musquash (2) Estuary a few kms west of Saint John.  There are several ways to get there, this is the most direct:

– take NB Hwy 1 WEST from Saint John to Exit 112, turn LEFT and follow King William Road to the vicinity of NB Power’s Coleson Cove generating station.  When I say that you can’t miss the station I am not kidding;

– just BEFORE the generating station turn RIGHT onto Burchill Road.  This road is not signed and is to all intents and purposes abandoned.  Drive slowly and slalom through the potholes keeping a careful eye out for oncoming vehicles or moose, one is as likely as the other;

– follow Burchill Road for 2.6 kms to a turn-off on the left where you can park one vehicle only, or go over the hill a bit and there is a crushed rock quarry on the left where you can park hundreds of cars if need be.  Park and walk from either point.  The track into the bush was once Cheeseman Beach Road but was allowed to grow in with alders on both sides; it has been hogged out within the last few years and is once again wide enough for a single vehicle all the way down the hill to the aqueduct right-of-way.  The road shows signs of a few vehicles having passed over it and it is also used by four-wheelers (indeed, what road isn't?) but you’re in the middle of nowhere so you can go naked from this point onward;

– follow Cheeseman Beach “Road” downhill for 800 metres where you come to an open space where the “Aqueduct Trail” forms something of a crossroads.  The continuation of the Cheeseman Beach Road is straight across but, as of August 2019, is grown in with alders on both sides.  Continue onward for maybe 300 metres to where the bridge/culverts used to cross Frenchman’s Creek. (3)  The bridge has been history for a long time and that is why you have to check the tide table before you head off on this trek.  You should only try to ford the creek a few hours either side of low tide; plan your trip accordingly; and 

– once you’ve crossed Frenchmans Creek, Cheeseman Beach is about 700 metres ahead. Follow the rather more faint trail uphill and beneath the first set of electric power lines.  You then pass through a linear stand of forest where the trail forks.  Take the LEFT fork and after passing beneath the second set of power lines, continue on to Cheeseman Beach.  This may require a degree bushwhacking unless some kind soul has been there before you and cleared the way.  


The other way to walk to Cheeseman is rather more difficult.  Note the red and yellow triangle on the satellite photo above.  This is the trailhead if you need to get out when the tide is too high to ford Frenchmans Creek, you get there by following the RIGHT hand fork of the trail back in forest between the sets of power lines.  The trail itself is the CNC Five Fathom Hole Trail leading from a parking lot near Prince of Wales to the red and yellow triangle.  It is not an easy trail except the first bit of it near the parking lot.  Its total length is about 4.5 kms of rather rough going, not to be attempted in the dark under any circumstances.



The third and easiest way to get to Cheeseman is via sea kayak from Black Beach.  Access to this launch point is via King William Road to the generating station, then follow the signs for Black Beach.  Go while the tide is still running in so you can paddle right up to the beach, otherwise you have to contend with the tidal flats.

(1) For more about the CNC Musquash Estuary property
(2) Muquash is an Algonkian word meaning “muskrat”
(3) Frenchmans Creek was named for the French privateer (pirate) Capt Baptiste who sojourned here with his corvette (pirate ship) La Bonne over the winter of 1694-95, after it was chased inshore by an English cruiser (pirate).  According to local lore, the crew deserted and the corvette fell to ruin and sank.
                           

Weenie Waggers

The charge is often made – always by ignorant people –  that naturists / nudists are a bunch of sex-crazed perverts.  Many non-naturists / -nudists imagine life at a nude-friendly venue as being a constant orgy.  One visit to a real naturist venue should cure our detractors of that notion . . . but it won’t.  They will continue to believe what they want to believe.  They base their opinions on one or more of at least three sources: their own prejudices, their secret desires and the rare reports in the news media concerning some naked malefactor who is almost inevitably described as a “nudist.”  It is too bad that we don’t have a naturist / nudist anti-defamation league that could jump all over such reporting and make them print apologies and corrections.  But we don’t.  So we suffer bad press because of bad people.

I was at the beach last weekend and as the afternoon drew late I decided I had manufactured enough vitamin D, packed up my kit and trundled off up the tide line toward the boardwalk, my trusty beach buggy following faithfully behind.  This was at Kellys so the boardwalk was somewhat distant.  When I reached a point well short of the family beach and had just passed the last nudist beach camp I schlepped into my shorts before continuing.

Not long after, when I was well within eyeshot of the Clothen, I noticed a naked guy had built his little camp far too close to them.  So I angled my course towards him with the idea of advising him that this wasn’t a good plan at all.  We don’t want to upset, shock or alarm the textiles after all.  That is only good sense.  On closing the distance between us I realized that the guy wasn’t naked after all.  He was just standing there with his Speedo around his knees and beating the bishop while watching the textiles.  I have 20/20 (corrected) vision so it might tell you something about the guy that I had to get within speaking distance to see what he was about. “Hey,” I began diplomatically, “pervert!”

The guy, let’s call him Stubby, turned toward me and spoke.  For the flavour of his part of the exchange imagine if you will a pirate with a heavy French accent.  If you have ever seen one of the Bugs Bunny cartoons featuring Blacque Jacque Shellaque you will have the voice exactly so I won’t try to render the words into dialect.  “Har!” he said, “I show you my cock!” 

 I had a momentary flash of the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the French soldier in the castle shouts ‘I wave my private parts at your aunties...’  It was surreal enough to get me going.  I replied “Here now, that isn’t a cock, that’s a weenie . . . cocks are much bigger.”

I’m not sure that he heard me, but I think that he must have.  He stopped, thunderstruck.  Perhaps I had offended him – go figure!  Whatever, he pulled up his Speedo, grabbed his meagre beach kit and stomped off down the beach towards the N Zone.  Maybe that wasn’t the ideal outcome but at least if got him away from the kiddies on the family beach and avoided unpleasant media reportage.  I didn’t report the guy because no good would come of that.  Police response time being what it is he wouldn’t have been caught.  Public prejudice being what it is the naturists / nudists who had been minding their own business on the beach all day would have been held guilty by association.

If you want to find real perverts all you have to do is look within textile society.  Those are the people far more likely to be obsessed with sex and to equate sex and nudity.  



Other than that it was a great day at the beach.