A Picture Paints a Thousand Lies

We were really starting to fall in love with Annapolis Royal and the surrounding area, I mean how could we not! It was picture postcard pretty, steeped in history, close enough to the water to satisfy our inner mermaid/man, it had a Moonshine distillery and of course our new besties lived there so it will come as no surprise that the first property we were to view was only a short 10-minute drive down the road from the Lilly Pad.

Ever the optimists we were confident that this property ticked many of the boxes on our lengthy list, the photos painted a picture of a quaint and well-loved home that whilst a little tired retained a comfy cottage feel that we found appealing. The workshop was always going to be the deal breaker for us, the goal was to set up a Silversmithing workshop and run our own business and whilst the house was important if the workshop did not fit our requirements, then it was out of the running.

This property however, had a large and new barn and if the pictures and the marketing description were to be believed it was looking promising, no strangers to renovation we were confident we could smooth off any rough edges to reveal a sparkling gem beneath if it ticked our boxes.

Some people look for a beautiful place, others make a place beautiful.

When we pulled up on the drive and met our Realtor Morgan we were initially impressed, the property had a long drive leading from the quiet road, and there was a medium sized shed in the front garden which was currently home to guinea hens. Morgan took us straight to the large two-level barn at the back of the property which came with sixty acres stretching off to the hills in the distance, despite being filled with every type of garden tool you can imagine the barn was spacious.

Rusty scythes and other razor edged farm implements lined the wall space within the barn, reminiscent of a B rated slasher movie and the upper level followed suit as we stooped (yep even me despite being challenged in the height department) to avoid being scalped by the sharp rusted points of the thousands of nails ( I kid you not!) driven through the roof to secure the shingles in place… okay this was not ideal.

Slightly perturbed by the barn we moved onto the property, we took our shoes off as we entered the back entryway and immediately regretted it when our feet stuck to the floor, it had been a while since the property had seen a vacuum cleaner let alone a mop, our socks would need to be washed if not burned when we left. Careful not to offend, this was someone’s home, we tried to make all the right encouraging noises when talking to Morgan like “they’ve looked after it so well”, “It is obviously well loved” but Morgan bless her heart could see straight through our BS like a beagle sniffing out a fox.

Years of clutter rested on every surface as far as the eye could see along with dust so thick and deep it would require a chisel to sign your name in it, I was not getting a good vibe about this place, and for good reason. We knew it was a bad sign when we walked into the living room and saw that the ceiling was bulging, the property clearly had a leak issue which no amount of hastily thrown on paint could disguise.

We were careful when walking into the bedroom directly above the bulging living room ceiling, we tentatively stepped on the spongy floor that sucked at our feet like quicksand and felt like it was going to give way at any moment, like the room below the ceiling in the bedroom had a distinct bulge to it.

Martin and I looked at each other and were able to convey without the requirement of words that we had seen enough to make a decision on this property, we went through the motions for the sake of Morgan who had done her best to point out the properties positives the words she chose went along the lines of “a project” needing “a bit of work doing to it”, but we could not help thinking blimey love nothing short of Miley Cyrus swinging on a wrecking ball and razing the house to the ground was going to make an improvement on this house, and the worst was still to come.

I am presently experiencing life at a rate of several WTF’s an hour!

The rest of the property did not get any better and as if the horror of walking into the bathroom and finding the delights left in the uncleaned toilet (the toilet seat had been conveniently left up…. Straight from the book of ‘how not to sell your house’) were not enough the basement had us struggling to stifle our screams.

The first thing to greet us in the basement was the gentle trickling of the stream that ran from one end of the floor to the other, not all homes can claim to have their own stream inside the property! Now that was special.

The second was the twenty-five plus rat traps littering the floor, and not just small rat traps these were huge, there were scratch marks made from rat claws on everything, the walls, the furniture, even the foil coating of the boiler was in tatters clearly ripped to shreds by the legions of rats on steroids worthy of a James Herbert novel running rampage in the basement.

To say that we felt unclean after viewing the property was an understatement, we could not shove our feet now encased by sticky and stained socks into our boots quick enough. We bid Morgan farewell and a promise to let her know if we would be putting in an offer before leaping into the Warlock and driving like a bat out of hell back to the Lilly Pad so that we could scrub ourselves raw with bleach and a wire brush.

Whilst the first property that we had seen had not been the glowing success we had anticipated; we were not going to let it deter us. At least having viewed what we hoped would be the worst property on our list of viewings they could only get better. This experience did give us a whole new appreciation for the photographers used by the Realtor when marketing the property, what they achieved was nothing short of witchcraft, the house up close in all its horrific glory looked absolutely nothing like the photos.

Adventure lies in the road less travelled.

Having carried out a full body decontamination and incinerating our clothing after returning back to the Lilly Pad we were keen to make the most of the rest of the day and head out to see what properties we could stumble upon by taking the road less travelled and seeing where it took us, that was how we ended up in a place called Bear River the tidal village on stilts.

Known as the “Switzerland of Nova Scotia” due to its natural environment and steep forested slopes the river lies within an area long occupied by the Mi’kmaq people with the members of the Bear River First Nations still residing there. The tidal river forms part of the boundary between the counties of Annapolis and Digby with Bear River gaining importance during the 19th century for its lumber, shipbuilding and the tides which rise and fall approximately twenty-five feet twice a day due to the dramatic Fundy tides which are the highest in the world.

Bear River has long been a draw to artists and writers and many galleries can be found throughout the settlement and although these galleries were closed at the time of our visit (they would re-open in spring) we were still able to find a coffee shop selling muffins and Sissiboo coffee and a bench alongside the river where we could sit and savour the taste, the stunning views and the sounds of birds chattering in the currently leafless forest.

Nova Scotia continued to surprise us with its rugged and raw beauty, every place we drove to or drove through had us catching our breath at the stunning vistas, the scenery and artisan feel soon had us adding Bear River to our list of places to house hunt.