Port Royal: Ancestral Home

Evening on the Rivier Dauphine renamed by the British as Annapolis River. Here, rock stacks grace the shore.

Ahh… So this is where the first ancestors lived.  I am standing on the bay shoreline at Port Royal (now Annapolis Royal).  I feel myself sink into a one of those time warp, magical moments.  It is deeply quiet. The river is wide here, becoming a bay. The strong tidal sway is silent as the Annapolis River widens and travels out   to the sea.  It is a small town with a big history. Boats are still being built on the shore. Standing on the wharf, time seems to have stopped.  

My ancestors looked at this water. Built their
homes on this shore from these forests. Caught the fish in this water. I feel a deep sense of connection. I remember the novel Siddartha and the river of life running through generations. The flow, always the same, always new. 

The French first arrived at this river place which they called Port Royal in 1605 fourteen years before the Pilgrims parked the Mayflower at Plymouth Rock. They chose this spot because of its the deep, sheltered harbor.  These qualities along with the fertile river valley made Port Royal  a prize location. The town changed flags more than half a dozen times in battles between the French and the British colonials.  

We have been told by fellow travelers not to miss the night time graveyard tour of Annapolis that is given by a local historian. We meet at the Fort at dusk by Mssr. Alan Melanson hands each of us a us a lantern with a lit candle and asks us where we are from. California? Why are you traveling here? My ancestors came from this town? Acadians?  I tell him yes...Hebert, Michaud, LeBlancs, Bruns … Welcome, fellow Acadian. Did you know that there are 3 million of us scattered around the world? 

The group of about 20 people assembles around Mr, M who is dressed in a black mourning coat. He has the face of a character actor and the French accent of an Acadian. We learn to say SHAM plan (Champlain) and Ah ca DEE (Acadia) He tells us the story of the Acadian flag. We we follow him across the grassy hills into the dark, unmarked graveyard around the fort. He  tells a series of stories of the lives of the people now underground. Buried in the Garrison Graveyard are many. But only a few have markers.  He tells us stories of  English. Scots, Micmac, Africans, and of the Acadian French, expelled from these lands. …. He gives us the recipe for Moose Nose Soup. He describes us how the widows of the fort where thrown onto the street unless they married another soldier.   He is a charismatic and a very excellent story teller. 

Another account of the graveyard walk:

https://www.mainewriter.com/articles/Graveyard-Tour.htm