Do you have Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?


Another glorious day to be on a boat rather than in an office.  The TSW narrowed, shallowed, and weeded as we left the Frankford wall.  Blomo proved to be quite usable in the locks, although these locks were so easy he almost went to sleep.

The only lock of real consequence was the double at 11 and 12.   We were dismayed to learn that the DJI Phantom buzzing us was being operated by Parcs Canada, so as to not be evidence that droning over the locks in fact is legal.  We had to settle for some iPhone photos from the top instead.

Coming from Tennessee and Texas, we’ve seen our share of bizzarre hillbilly.  On this trip we’ve determined that the same things can be found everywhere.  For example, some people want to be comfortable when they fish or watch the kids swim.  If you have an extra Laz-Y-Boy sitting around, why not make it useful?  This one looks quite comfy.  Nice.

Campbellford is deep in the heart of river country, according to the sign.

Plus the stars at night, are big and bright.  The town park also almost certainly sports the largest replica of a Canadian $2 coin—aka a Toonie—in the world.

We finally hit the right timing, as the Campbellford concert in the park featured an oldies country band.  It almost sort-of was passable, although Canada does country redneck better than country accents. “Here’s some Johnny Cash, eh.”

Campbellford also has a famous cheese shop, recommended by several lockmasters along the route.  One of us really wanted to go, mostly to drop the classic line on the clerk: “I thought to myself a little fermented curd will do the trick, so I curtailed my Walpoling activities, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the conveyance of some cheesy comestibles.”  The other one of us doesn’t think Monty Python sketches are funny, however, and saw no reason to take a 3-mile taxi ride.  Opportunity lost, but at least we found some of the local product at the grocery store.


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