Thursday, July 10. Pisiquid, Grand-Pré, Port-Royal.

We got an early start, leaving the house by 8:00 and heading up highway 101 toward Windsor. Our first stop was Fort Edward, built by the British in 1750 at the meeting of the St. Croix and Avon rivers, near the Acadian village of Pisiquid. The fort oversaw the deportation of 1000 Acadians, and served as a prison for some. The original blockhouse stands in one corner of the site; the depression towards the front of the photo is where the Officers' Quarters stood (burned in 1920). The fortifications are in the shape of a square, with earthen ramparts, four bastions, and a moat. There's a small exhibit on the first floor, and you can climb the steps to the empty second floor.

We then went to look for Saint-Famille Cemetery in Falmouth. The map I had wasn't very good, and so we stopped at a visitors' center and asked for directions. The young girl responded with a blank stare, and went to get help. The lady who came to her aid knew exactly what I was looking for, and gave me the directions I needed. Well, I still managed to get turned around. I pulled into the parking lot of the United Baptist Church to compare the different maps I had and to check the street address for the cemetery. We found it soon after.

Saint-Famille was one of two parishes in the Pisiquid area. Our Lady of the Assumption was founded first, in 1698. As a result of squabbling (what else is new?), the new parish was established in 1722 for the families on the other side of the river. The cemetery was discovered a few years ago during the construction of a house; an archaeological survey established the significance of the find, and a group was quickly brought together to purchase the land and preserve it as a memorial. Only a couple of plaques are in place currently.

I had laughed with the folks at the airport in Newark when we said in parting that we might bump into each other--but guess who we saw at the cemetery?

This lady from Louisiana (and I forget her name) had an "a-ha!" moment regarding "Pisiquid," the name of the town that was here. Her grandmother had an expression in French that translates approximately as "You're such a little sweet girl from Pisiquid" (sort of an expression of endearment). She pronounced the term "Pishquit," but the Acadians in the Maritimes that I heard use the word pronounced it "PIH-zih-quid." She never quite knew what the word "Pisiquid" meant; she was a French major, and had looked it up in dictionaries, but only now, visiting the place, did she realize that this was an old expression that had originated before 1755 in an Acadia that knew Pisiquid was a place.

Next stop, Grand-Pré (and here). I had picked up cheap batteries for my new digital camera which quit as soon as we arrived at Grand-Pré, so most of the photos from this stop were taken by my wife or kids.

I was wearing my Famille de LeBlanc t-shirt, and was greeted warmly by the ranger at the entrance with a hearty, "Welcome home!"

First stop was the bookstore.

I got a CD by the Acadian band, 1755, "Vivre à la Baie." My favorite song on the album (and the main reason I got it) is "Le jardinier du couvent." I also picked up a number of books, and a t-shirt (and the wife and kids got other stuff):

• Jean Daigle, ed. Acadia of the Maritimes. Université de Moncton, Chaire d'études acadiennes, 1995.
• Marielle Cormier-Boudreau and Melvin Gallant, A Taste of Acadie (cookbook). Fredericton: Goose Lane Editions, 1991.
• Stephen A. White. English Supplement to the Dictionnaire Généalogique des Familles Acadiennes. Université de Moncton, Centre d'études acadiennes, 2000. (No, I haven't invested the $195 CDN to purchase the dictionary itself, and granted, the Supplement is limited in its use without it--basically the bibliography, footnotes, and introductions. But I figure this purchase (and the ribbing of friends) will soon enable me to break down and get the dictionary itself.)
• Sally Ross. Dykes and Aboiteaux. Grand-Pré: Société Promotion Grand-Pré, 2002.

They're working on a new, larger visitors' center and museum, which will house a number of the finds they've made on the grounds. For now, you see mainly the park-like grounds, at the center of which is the memorial church (with exhibits inside) and the statue of Longfellow's fictional heroine, Evangeline. The new visitors' center will also allow people to enter the park from what is actually the front, so that you'll go down the walk, to the Evangeline statue, and then the church. When it was built, visitors arrived by train and this was their first view. At present, you arrive from the side.

The first thing you come to is a reproduction of an aboiteaux, the sluice in the dike that let fresh water drain off the field at low tide while preventing sea water from coming in at high tide.

Beside the church, we watched some archaeologists digging, and chatted with them about their finds. They've found the foundation of a structure; too small to be a church, perhaps it could be the priest's house. I ask about the digs in the Port-Royal area, and they give me a couple of names of people I should look up. The Melanson Settlement site is accessible, but the interpretation center has not been built yet; and one fellow mentions that when he took some people to see it, they all ended up covered with ticks. "Might not be how you want to spend your vacation," he says. Well, if it was just me ....

After viewing the paintings and memorials within the church, we walk quietly around the grounds. We take our turn photographing the statue, and then walk amongst the rose bushes.

We follow a path to a blacksmith's shop and a small garden.

Behind the church is a row of gnarled willows that were planted by the Acadians long ago, and are the only thing left of the original village. In their shade, we gaze across the marshes.

We returned to the gift shop to give the kids a chance to look around some more. Inside, a fellow noticed my t-shirt and asked if I was a member of the Famille de LeBlanc. He introduced himself as Daniel Comeau, Coordinator for the Central Region for next year's Congrès Mondial Acadien. We had a nice chat about the Congrès, our different families, and about things I should see in the area. If I were going to be around longer on this trip, he was ready to offer to take me some places. I asked about people in Port-Royal to talk to, and he mentioned the same man the archaeologists referred me to: Wayne Melanson, one of the costumed interpreters at the Habitation.

I asked about the Deportation Cross marking the supposed site where the Acadians waited to be put on board the ships. He told me it is on private land, at the edge of a farmer's field and railroad property--you can only view it from a telescope at the visitors' center (which we did). He's trying to arrange access to it during the Congrès. But the beach is accessible, he said, and he pointed us in the direction.

I must confess that at this point my attention was drifting because of the bored look on the faces of my kids. I should have made sure I had the directions clear. Instead, I think I assumed that when I saw signs that said, "Beach," that it would be the same beach to which he was directing me. As a result, I ended up at Evangeline Beach, not at Horton’s Landing on the Gaspereau River.

Even though Evangeline Beach is not "the" beach, it is still a thought-provoking place to reflect on history. Looking across the wide mudflats and the waters of the Minas Basin toward Blomidon, it is easy to imagine the scene from almost 250 years ago. British ships anchored off shore. Frightened family groups huddled together; children screaming in terror. Red-coats and Massachusetts militia roughly tearing families apart, sending them into exile in distant lands.

After lunch at a nearby "Subway," we continued on towards the Annapolis valley. In St. Martinville I had purchased a map showing the locations of the Acadian settlements stretching out for a dozen miles and more along the Annapolis River. I was especially interested in finding the location of the farm of Daniel LeBlanc. Quoting from Stephen White's Supplement,

Daniel LeBlanc "settled on the north bank of the Port-Royal River (today the Annapolis River), to the northeast of the marsh at Bélisle, about nine miles above the fort at Port-Royal, and a half mile below the chapel of Saint-Laurent, where he died between the years 1693-1698."

Daniel LeBlanc's farm was alongside the Gesner Creek, where it enters into the River. Here are some photos of the site as viewed from Route 1.

And here's a picture I took later in the day from across the river (from a spot about a kilometer west of the Inglis Farm and fruit-stand which marks the location of the Girouard village).

Champlain's first settlement, established in 1605, is commemorated at the reconstructed Port-Royal at the mouth of the Annapolis basin. The wooden "Habitation" stood until 1613, when it was burned by Virginians. The Habitation was reconstructed by the Canadian government in 1939, based on drawings in Champlain's own hand.

One of the things that struck me about the reconstruction was the presence in each bedroom/bunkroom of a crucifix and a prie-dieu. As we view a small chapel in the corner, a woman comes in, turns a little red, and says she lost her glasses, and if they aren't there, at least she can say a prayer. While saying this, she kneels at the altar rail, and makes the sign of the cross. I say, "St. Anthony, help us." She flashes a big smile.

Walking around the outside we met Wayne Melanson, and after taking his photo at the entrance, we introduced ourselves and said we were told we should talk to him. He lit up at the names I mentioned of folks who had recommended him, and we stood in the shade of a tree enjoying the breeze and chatted for quite some time. He's dressed in typical 17th-century Acadian attire, including wooden shoes (the archaeologists at Grand-Pré found a pair, well-preserved by the mud despite the passing of 250 years). He gave my kids a quick run down of Acadian history, as well as the relationships between the Acadians and the Micmac or M'ikmaq Indians (which, I learned, is pronounced "mig-muh").

He pointed out the general area of the Melanson Settlement, about a kilometer away, behind a dike that we could see from where we stood. We're both descended from Charles Melanson, which would make us, oh, about 10th cousins. He's also descended from the LeBlancs.

Wayne said his twin brother, Alan, is a guide at Fort Anne, and does a late night tour of the cemetery, which he urged us to take in, if we had the time. He said that the English cemetery was built in the same location as the Acadian cemetery, and that there is a clearly noticeable rectangular space which is empty, which is where the Acadian graves are; they used wooden crosses, which have since rotted. This is where all our Port-Royal ancestors are buried.

We said good-bye, and headed on to the town now known as Annapolis Royal; here is where the French reestablished Port-Royal in 1635. This was where Acadia became a full-fledged colony, and not simply a trading post. It was taken by the British in 1710, and renamed in honor of Queen Anne. Here's a good view from the north shore. At the far right you can see Ft. Anne; St. George Street follows the river, and was the main street of the town when my ancestors lived here.

Some pictures of Fort Anne. The earthworks, of French construction, date to 1702; the building is British, post-exile.

There's a nice museum inside. One of the exhibits includes a knife and fork found at the Melanson Settlement. Funny that such a simple thing should have the impact on me that it did. But just reflect a moment on what it must be like to see before your eyes a knife and fork that an ancestor of yours likely used nearly 300 years ago.

The kids simply said, "Oh," and were eager to run outside and climb up and down the ramparts and explore the tunnels and casemates.

On the south end of Fort Anne is the cemetery. As Wayne had said, you can easily tell where the Acadian graves are located.

Across the road, and a couple hundred yards to the west, beyond a restaurant serving "Chinese and Canadian food," there's a nice spot where you can view some of the dikes behind the Historic Gardens.

Heading back into town, we walked down St. George Street, and passing a pizza parlor, I was told it was time for supper. Well, it was a madcap experience. We were the only customers, and ordered a large rectangular pizza. After about twenty minutes, the girl fixing it called anxiously to her co-worker for help. We looked at each other. She came out and apologized that she had made a mess trying to take it out of the oven, and asked if we minded waiting another twenty minutes. We laughed and said, "No problem." Let me tell you, this is not the way I usually respond to such a mishap. But I was in a good mood, and the family would have killed me if I had made them get back in the car to try to find another place to eat in this town of 600 people.

I asked if anyone wanted to take a walk while we waited, and only my son volunteered. We walked the length of St. George Street, down to a pier, and then back along a boardwalk past the small lighthouse. The Sinclair House Inn is the oldest building in Annapolis Royal, and combines a couple of structures that were built before 1710.

We returned to the pizza parlor in time to greet our dinner as it was placed on the table. The server was apologetic, and thanked us for being so patient. I asked if she would mind treating us to a second round of drinks, by way of compensation, and she was happy to oblige. She had had a rough day, and she said, "It's customers like you that make it all worthwhile."

We could have gone on to Digby for an Acadian concert, or all the way to Church Point for the Acadian Festival of Clare, or even waited around Annapolis Royal for another couple of hours to take the graveyard tour, but we called it a day, and climbed wearily into the car for the trip back to Tantallon.

Continue to July 11.