Seaboard Chronicles: Day 3

Ugh!  The alarm went off mighty early this morning!  Well, not really, only 7 AM, but we are in the Atlantic time zone, so it feels earlier than it is, plus it's been a hectic last couple of days.  Let's just say it took me a little while to get cranking and feel talkative this morning!

We started our day with a leisurely breakfast at our B&B.  This place is positively charming.  The proprietors are this adorable little Korean family who are so beyond helpful and hospitable they practically bow while they converse with you.  The wife fixed us omelets wrapped in crepes, toast and fresh fruit with yogurt, and the husband and daughter waited on us hand and foot.  Such a very lovely form of room and board...

After breakfast, we headed towards Minister's Island.  Okay, straight up, this was amazing.  Saint Andrews is located on the Bay of Fundy, which as you may know, has the largest tidal range in the world, meaning there can be up to a 50-foot difference between high and low tide levels.  So, to get to the island, you literally drive across the ocean floor at low tide.  You only have a small window of time to spend on the island before you must return to the mainland, lest the tide return, cover up the road, and leave you stranded on the island.  Is this cool, or what?  To add to the drama of driving across the ocean floor, we were socked in again today, meaning I started driving with absolutely no idea whatsoever where I was going - I couldn't see the island in front of me!  This was absolutely one of the most surreal experiences I have had.  Fortunately, my destination very quickly materialized, and we returned to more conventional, if boring roadways.

Minister's Island was the summer retreat of William Van Horn, the man responsible for Canada's railway system.  His home and outbuildings are open and available for touring, so that's just what we did.  I was struck by the extreme contrast in Canadian style versus American style when it comes to interacting with our heritage.  In America, we put everything under glass, block it off with velvet ropes, station bland federal employees at every corner to guard it, and in general, try to keep personal contact between history and civilians to an absolute minimum.  In Canada (or at this particular spot, anyway), the property manager serves coffee and tea on the front porch while the maintenance man sprawls in a lawn chair telling tall tales, and a flippant high school student in sweats and flip-flops gives the quickie tour and then, in essence, tells visitors to help themselves.  Maybe two velvet ropes in the whole place?  Granted, it was pretty obvious that the same casual attitude applies to funding upkeep and maintenance, but still... it was a nice change of pace!

We had to hurry off the island at 11:30 to beat the tide (the docents literally followed us off) and we had a little bit of time to kill before our whale tour began, so we went downtown to the local, weekly farmer's market to pick up some lunch and browse.  Do you ever have that sensation, I think they call it a moment of grace, where life crystallizes and sparkles, and you stop to think just how very glad you are to be in that particular moment?  Today held a few of those, one of which was sitting at a picnic table in the midst of this lovely little town in view of a harbor full of sailboats, surrounded by townspeople hawking their wares, listening to a guitarist and dulcimer-player picking tunes amidst the cries of seagulls, and feasting on jerk chicken and coconut rice, with two of the people I love the most.  How good our God is, to grant us moments like this.  Oh, and my purchases?  A bottle of dark maple syrup from the man who boiled it, a jar of rhubarb-orange marmalade from the sister of the woman who preserved it, and two cookies and a piece of cake (I know, I know...) from the woman who baked them.  My soul literally overflowed with delight.

In due time, we walked across the street to the marina and then down to the boat that would take us on our whale-watching tour.  Another absolutely amazing experience.  The weather was mild to warm in town, so the dramatic change in temperature was startling.  (Fortunately, they had warned us about this.)  As I stood huddled on the deck wrapped in sweatshirt and jacket, hurtling through the water, face to the wind, muscles aching from tensing against the cold, wind cutting through me like a knife, I had another of those sensations where you stop and think, "I am alive. Completely and utterly alive."  What a gift.  What an inspiration to live every day that way, savoring each moment.

Aside from the glorious, blasting, icy wind, we did see some wildlife!  We saw some porpoises, some harbor seals and gray seals, as well as a whole rocky island full of raucous nesting birds.  Oh, and at long last, we saw some whales!  Minke whales they were, and what a thrill to hear the majestic sound of those huge animals breathing (you really could hear them, and from far away!), to see their long bodies roll and turn in the surf, to frantically scan the surface of the water, trying to spot where they might next reappear.  I wondered if those creatures had any idea whatsoever of the ruckus they created amongst the excited humans who were swarming around them with their boats and binoculars as they lazily cruised and dove and surfaced and dove again, apparently without a care in the world.  Probably not, but speaking as one of those excited humans, it was an interaction that was out of this world, one that left a person breathless with wonder.

That's a whale!  

(He wouldn't stay above water long enough for me to get a better shot, the rascal.)

My new friend, Annalee

We rolled back into town just as town was closing up shop for the day.  (This is not a place with a throbbing nightlife, to say the least.)  We grabbed coffee, thanks to my coffee-loving mama, and then quickly drove back out to Minister's Island so we could see the road while it was covered up (sure enough, it was...) as well as catch a glimpse of the island itself, now that the fog was burned off.  At last, after nearly 24 hours of being in town, we finally could see our surroundings, and discovered that they're quite lovely!  After catching a few shots, we drove back into town, stopped at the Saint Andrews Block House (vintage 1812) and then grabbed dinner at the Harbour Front restaurant.  Mediocre food, but the experience of sitting on the trellis-covered deck mere feet from the water under clear skies in probably 68-degree weather more than made up for it.  Oh, and I got to reunite with my friend from the whale cruise!  Now, I sit on the porch of our B&B, glass of orange juice by my side, savoring the sunset and the remains of this day that could be classified as pretty much perfect.  I am so very grateful.

Tomorrow, the road to Cheticamp, and hopefully some sea glass!