The lower Sissaboo is a tidal river that runs west from Sissaboo proper to a local highway bridge in Weymouth Mills where it opens wide into an expansive cove that eventually narrows and makes it’s way to St. Mary’s Bay. Today, we will be canoeing the lower Sissaboo and have hired a guide from Hinterland Adventures to make the trip downstream with us.

Hinterland operates out of a beautiful home and property situated right on the river, about 4 miles from Weymouth. The house is a yellow Victorian with a wrap-around porch surrounded by old growth fruit (cherry, plum, peach) and nut trees. Upon arrival at the house we are greeted by a trio of fierce, short-legged, wide-bodied, large-headed, frothing-at-the-mouth barking dogs. They look like monsters. I consider turning around, leaving. The children, however, love dogs.
“Da-aha-ahd! Look! Dogs!” Michael.
“They’re so cute!” Isabel.
“Don’t get out of the car. They could be rabid.”
Everyone is staring out the window, looking at the dogs.
“Hon, do those dogs look normal? I mean, look at their fucking heads.”
Laura shoots me a look.
“Language,” she says.
“Right. Sorry.”
“They’re Welsh Corgis,” she says, “They’re adorable.”
A man steps out of the house, gestures at the dogs.
“They’re yappers. Won’t hurt yah. Pawk over he-yah, eh.” The man points to a space near a back terrace under a grape arbor, walks to the car, extends his hand through the driver’s side window.
“Hanford.” he says.
“Paul.”
“Nice to meet yah. Going to be a beautiful day on the ree-vah.”
“Can we get out of the car?” Sarah.
“Can we pet the dogs?” Isabel.
“My Dad used a bad word.” Michael.
“Shu-ah. C’mon out. The dogs love kids.”

And they do. The dogs are incredibly affectionate with the children. This is good ju-ju because the children and I have long been angling for a dog and Laura’s resistance to this idea has to be lessening as she has observed the kids in their company on this trip (this is the second time on our trip that the children have spent time in the company of a trio of dogs). In East Boothbay, where we were guests for an evening, our hosts had three Brittany Spaniels, including one puppy (Louis) and the kids were absolutely in love with them. Truth is, they didn’t want to leave East Boothbay (at least without the dogs).

One of them, it turns out, will be making the trip with us. His name is Titan. Titan is cute in an Arbus-esque kind of way. As for Hanford, well, every bit the guide you imagined. Has a thick Nova Scotian accent, which is frankly hard to understand. It seems to be a hybrid of thick Boston accent with a bit of French Canadian patois mixed in. Hanford is wearing a bush hat, long camouflage pants, and a black tee shirt, and is tanned in the way of men who work outdoors all their lives are. He has a large, Indiana Jones-ish knife affixed to his belt. He could kill the entire family, chop us into small pieces, feed us to his trio of dogs, and no one would be the wiser. But few American families have gone missing in Nova Scotia (at least this summer) so you are not overly concerned.

Once we put it, the water is wonderful. There is little wind on this section of the river and the tide is going out, making our paddle downstream effortless. Michael is in a canoe with Hanford and Titan.

Sarah is in a canoe with me. And Laura is in a canoe with Isabel.

About a half mile downstream, we see two juvenile bald eagles perched on deadwood hanging over the river. They are big birds, out for a morning hunt, unfazed by our presence as we paddle closer to the shoreline. We are within 20 yards of the birds when they take flight over the river.
“Wow!” Sarah.
“Oh my gosh.” Michael.
Isabel just smiles.

So there you have it. We are a family that travels for beer, pie, pizza, seafood, country back roads, cannonballs into cold salt water, the company of friendly Nova Scotians, peregrine falcons that land on your car, and bald eagles flying so close that you can hear their wing beats as they take flight over the open waters of the Sissaboo.