Leaving Sydney & The World’s Largest Axe
Sorry I’ve been MIA for awhile, that’s about to change! I have a slew of recipes & another trip to post (Philly! Don’t worry, that one will fit in one post). But for now I’ve been struggling with cabin life and no water. That’s right, no water. It’s taken up a lot of my energy, the part that includes trying to figure out if I’m relocating and how on earth do I wash dishes and oh, crap, I can’t shower anymore. Needless to say, it’s been a little nuts. And I haven’t figured out if I’m moving or not (I really really really don’t want to), but hopefully will all get resolved soon! We’ve had about 2 1/2 days of rain so that’s definitely a good thing and I do have water at the moment, so, hurrah!
But back to Canada.
Like I said before, Sydney wasn’t the most exciting or delicious place we went. But one experience that stood out in particular was our visit to Fuzzy’s Fries. We actually had no idea Fuzzy’s existed. Crossing the street with a mediocre pizza in hand and a hoegaarden in our bellies, I glanced across the asphalt and noticed something that looked suspiciously like a blue food truck. A food truck! In Sydney! It can’t be! But it was! (Yes, it was that exciting–I used far more exclamation points in real life too…).
So we trotted over and found ourselves in front of the most beautiful sight I’d seen in at least 24 hours–fresh, gorgeous, crisp, golden french fries fried and dished up in a food truck. Holy manna of heaven. We went the with-salt route and didn’t add vinegar and, seriously, these were the best fries I’ve had in a long time. While we sat and watched the sunset and ate our fries it seemed as if the world could not be a more perfect place.
That evening we decided to change plans and head back to Portland a day early. Given my penchant for awful chips (apparently), I picked up two more bags of strange ones and we tried them out during the 13 hour drive south.
The loser of the taste test was undoubtedly the Dorritos Cheeseburger Chips. ew. ew. ew. They were worse than the chicken chips in that they tasted exactly like a McDonald’s burger. Which I don’t even know what that tastes like, but I know the smell and I know the chips were right on. Apparently you can get this atrocity in the U.S. I don’t recommend it.
As for the winner, most definitely the Dill Pickle Chips! They’re just like sour cream and onion chips except better–they even taste like regular chips dipped in pickle juice. I never got around to trying the ketchup chips, which may have been better (at least from what I heard), but for the awful road-snack category, I’m going with Dill Pickle chips for the win.
The best part of the drive back to Portland, however, was definitely finding Nackawic, New Brunswick. It’s sort of hard to explain other than I love giant things. The more giant things I find on a trip, like the fiddle, the better. So when we were planning the trip and I discovered Nackawic along the original route (that we didn’t take), I was stoked–the world’s largest ax! What’s not to love? But we changed our route and Nackawic was axed.
But then, oh then on the way back we actually passed it! And we stopped (of course), and we took a million pictures, and the locals playing a game of softball seemed to think we were kind of nuts. But why else would you put up a giant ax other than to have crazy American tourists seek it out?
The ax out of my system (though I was loathe to leave), we drove across the province, crossed the border, and started the long drive south through Maine to Portland. And you’d never guess it, but 13 hours isn’t really all that long of a drive. Especially when there are giant axes along the way.