Look out for the deer as you motor through the village of Kootmacs. They’ll occupy the middle of the road. They’ll blink at you and then, slow as a traffic cop sussing out the situation, saunter over, hooves clicking on the asphalt, push their noses on the windscreen hoping you’ll give them a leaf of organic lettuce. Failing that, they’ll amble into someone’s garden and eat the nasturtiums. It’s best to ignore them.
Turn left at the old tavern on the corner. It’s the only tavern and the only left turn. A right will take you down to the pier which they call the wharf and it smells exactly how it sounds. If you roll down the window, you’ll understand what I mean. But don’t roll it down when there’s a deer nearby or you’ll be impaled by antlers. If you don’t feel the burn of bile rising in your throat you’ll love this place. Continue reading