Lobster, bears, beers and canoes

Paul Malik spends a week exploring the sights, sounds, smells and tastes that Canada’s New Brunswick has to offer

I’m all at sea. No, literally, I am out in the middle of Shediac bay, bobbing about on the good ship Lobster Tale.

Captain Ron Cormier and his crew have just dished up some freshly cooked crustaceans – save the one chicken ordered by an American – and are now demonstrating best practice on how to eat them.

“Now, what you want to do is snap the leg back at the knuckle, tear it apart in your hands and suck out the insides,” the captain advises.

Surprisingly, the lobster before us is cold. Having been cooked on a grill until pink, it is custom in Shediac, Captain Cormier tells us, to dunk it in gallons of North Atlantic ocean water – of which there is plenty. The cold of the water allows the meat inside the body to contract from the shell, meaning you get as much of the fish as possible.

I crack away at the lobster’s shell, putting to the back of my mind 20 minutes previously when I had helped drag the pot from the ocean floor and noted the little captives seemed quite content padding about. However, Shediac is the lobster capital of the world, so when in Shediac, do as...

Later that day, having driven a few hours up the Atlantic coast, I am spiraling my way to the top of a great fir tree, dodging branches and swatting mosquitoes in an attempt to find a perch to glimpse a magnificent sleuth of black bears.

I have my second environmental epiphany of the day in the wooden confines of Bear Man Richard Gougan’s Little Big Bear Safari treehouse.

The bears, which are smaller than I had envisioned – but still large enough to tear me limb from limb – are quite majestic. They wander, almost in pairs, searching for food treats stowed away in the branches of the clearing made by Mr Gougan. I am told by business owners in the nearby town of Miramichi his methods are controversial and that the bears should be left to themselves.

As I watch the black bears meander below, I’m overcome, for milliseconds, to go down and get a closer look. Fortunately, I lobster out, much to the relief of my insurers I’m sure. But the elegance these forest kings exude is captivating and I realise just how brief our time here has been, and will be.

There are a number of striking things about New Brunswick, the province I spent one week doing a month’s worth of activities in.

The day after my adventures on the ocean and in the woods, I piled into a Canadian kayak (or, as they call them in Canada, canoes) and paddled across the great salmon-filled Miramichi river.

The island of Beaubears, which was once home to the First Nation Mi’kmaq, then French settlers, then Acadians, then Scots, then the English and then Canadians.

In fact, it was an Aberdonian, they think, who set himself up as a New World settler and the boatyard on the island is the last surviving example of 19th Century shipbuilding in New Brunswick, and a Canadian heritage site.

What’s striking about New Brunswick is how gloriously Canadian yet entirely similar to Scotland it is.

It is a vast province, despite being one of the country’s smallest. During my stay, I drove just short of 1,500km – including a three night stop in St Andrews by the Sea.

The most obvious similarities occurred during my meeting with the intense and endearing Major Hal Skaarup. A veteran with more than 40 years military service in the Canadian armed forces, Hal now takes history tours around the Fredericton area, including the Canadian Blackwatch cemetery on the Nashwaak river.

While driving to meet Major Skaarup, I skid my rented Jeep to a halt on Route 148. There, propped on the side of the road at the cusp of a bridge, is a sign telling me I’m crossing the river Tay. I look 100m down the road, and spot a second sign telling me I’m close to the village of Stanley.

At this stage, I had been driving for about three hours and as stunning as the scenery of the Miramichi river valley was, I had tuned out of what was 5m beyond my field of vision.

The cemetery, which interred long-deceased descendants of a good