|Looking out towards St. Croix Island - which looks a bit like an emerging submarine|
The St. Croix International Park's Visitor Center. Note the clocks that show the US and Canadian times, which disagree by one hour. So just by standing there I was in a time warp of one hour. Where is the Tardis when you need it?
|There were Plenty of 'show |
& tell' items I enjoyed investigating
The lady Ranger was quite friendly, and though I think I may have been the only guest in the entire park, she gave me a personable tour. I was told the history of the lost French colony that settled in, almost perished in one of the worse winters ever and almost died before another Frenchman came – late – to collect up the colonists and take them away.
When she was done, I showed her the post card I was given in Calais, and she gave me the best possible present - a beautiful cloisonne pin. The pins must be leftovers from the celebration of the four hundred years - now four hundred ten years - when the original French settled on the island.
The ranger recommended I take the short park hike. Being my usual lazy self, I hemmed. hawed, thanked her and left. It was pouring down rain, and I raced to the car and left, driving along the shore, and in only a scant quarter mile I was on an overlook, that faced St. Croix Island which can only be accessed by the prudent tourist with a boat. I sat and watched the rain beating down on the rip rap for a while.
|A view from where I parked towards St. Croix Island, on the horizon to the right|
The rain slowed a bit, and there were stone steps nearby so I climbed them. At the top I saw a gazebo, housing a bronze model of how the lost St. Croix colony may have looked in early 1600s.
|Fairly impressive settlement if you ask me|
Pierre Dugua who is the size of a yeti at 8 foot tall. He was looking pretty dapper for a man standing out in the rain.
I picked up from the signage he was the settlement's leader who hoped to make a fortune in animal furs.
I looked further down the little winding trail, and spied a tall metallic settler, his head lowered in reverence. He glistened with raindrops, and if he weren't made of bronze he'd have caught his death.
Now I was curious. What was with the statues? Interesting! I meandered down the trail and found the next statue. A man of the continent as there wasn't yet an 'America' or 'Canada' for him to come from. He was an aboriginal whose people had lived on the land since the first grass grew.
|He was a Maine Indian acting as a guide for the French.|
|There was then this guy is shown, 'helping to build a community'|
|Easy enough to figure out this man's activity|
|Next up was an Indian mother |
with something on her back...
|Her baby who was wet - with rain -and I'm glad|
he was bronze because he looked ready to cry
|I walked back down the trail|