The Only Way Out



This fall I read my second murder mystery set on Grand Manan. As a disclaimer, I should mention murder is pretty rare on the island as is most violent crime. I sometimes forget to lock my doors and I leave the keys in my car while at work. I still have my car but sometimes the wind will blow my door open.


That being said, I really enjoyed the story in this book. It was written by an ex-RCMP officer who, while never stationed on Grand Manan, did work a few shifts on the island. There were some inconsistencies between real life and the book (some of which he acknowledges) but I didn’t find them jarring or disruptive to the narrative. The fact it was set in the 1960s also helped in that regard. In fact, it was easy to picture some of the places and events in the book: the unrelenting fog for days springs to mind. The mystery portion was intriguing enough to keep my interest without being so tense I couldn’t sleep at night (an important component of my nighttime reading).  I’d definitely recommend this book as a mystery and for its Grand Manan connection.


Fall also means a rash of birthdays with a double whammy in the middle of the month. Since their birth, my nieces have worn pink and purple which was sometimes the only way I could identify who was who. So, their birthday mittens reflected those colours. (My own pattern in Knit Picks Swish Worsted Brights Vibrant Violet and Pucker).


Linking up with other Yarn Along readers and knitters.

Seven Days

A couple of weeks my Facebook feed was abuzz about a mystery novel that was set on Grand Manan.  While it wouldn’t necessarily be a book I would choose to read, the idea of a book set on the island was too good to pass up.


I have to admit, I struggled to get into the book. Parts of the book (particularly the geography) are so bang on that the parts that aren’t are even more jarring. Some of the descriptions of the island residents, their values, and the fishery aggravated me because of some of the inaccuracies.  About a third of the way into the book, I began to accept that while the book was set on Grand Manan, it wasn’t set on “my” Grand Manan. I started to enjoy the parts that rang true and let slide those that didn’t. I even realized that one of the things that bothered me from the beginning was actually part of the resolution. 😀


Had the book not been set on the island, I likely wouldn’t have stuck it out to the finish, but by the end I was anxious to see “who done it”.  I guess in the end it “got me”.


Meanwhile, I’m in the midst of seven days of travel for work. There hasn’t been a lot of knitting time until today’s meeting, but I’m working on finishing some travel knitting that I’ve been carrying for a while, namely a sock and a dishcloth.


Linking up with other Yarn Along posts.

Buying Local

Today we had the opportunity to tour the island with representatives from the provincial government’s “Buy Local” team.  The purpose was to talk about our local fishery for background for future stories for social media. For me it’s always fun to play tour guide for a day, and who could resist a spring day out of the office.



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Thursday Night

Thursday night almost 200 people turned out for a community policing meeting on the island.  The focus was on drug use.  I don’t think our community is unique in this being an issue, but our isolation and size allows a focus that may not be as clear in a larger area.

Drug addiction is a complicated issue. Causes and recovery don’t fall under the jurisdiction of a policing forum. That’s a more complicated, but just as important, element.  Policing can address possession and more critically trafficking.  Policing also addresses the traditional byproducts of drug issues: breaking and enter, theft, and other crimes to fund the habit.  We have the benefit of a productive economy so there hasn’t been a spike in these events. There has been an increase in other byproducts (like abandoned needles) that generates a plethora of other concerns.


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Where Have the Weirs Gone?

Last weekend I happened upon some old photos in a drawer. Despite my best intentions, they never seemed to make it to a photo album. One of the envelopes was from a Sunday afternoon in the mid 1990s that was spent at my father’s herring weir.

Herring weirs (sounds like “where”) are one of the oldest fishing gear types (it pre-dates Canadian Confederation in 1867). They are built in the shape of a heart, traditionally near the shore, with large wooden poles (stakes) surrounded by twine. Fishermen then wait for the herring to come inshore, swim along the net into the weir and become trapped, unable to find the way out. Fishermen then go with another net to “scoop” the fish out into a boat to be taken to be canned as sardines.

This day was a sparkling day on the Bay of Fundy. My grandfather’s health was beginning to fail, but he continued to go with my father to enjoy the process and help where he could. My mother, father, and brother were all there to work. My sisters, a couple of friends, and I were along as “tourists”. The photos from that day tell the tale – it was a magical, classic day on the Bay. *

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