Fun-Fun-Fundy

Let's see...last we talked, I was on my way to Saint John, New Brunswick, to fetch my mom and her friend D from the airport there. With my car packed so extremely to the gills that any sudden braking was likely to cause a luggage cascade that would sure decapitate some unfortunate passenger, we set out on our long-planned Maritimes adventure. First stop: the Bay of Fundy (pronounced "Fun-day," as we've learned). This bay, which separates New Brunswick from Nova Scotia is renowned as being the place where the highest tides in the world are regularly logged.

I've learned enough about tides during our time on the bay to have a new appreciation for how complicated they are (affected by the sun, the moon, and the geography of a given shoreline) and to know better than to try to explain it all here, as I'd never get it right.

First, we explored Fundy National Park. My mom and D (hereafter to be known as "Dartha," an amalgamation of their names) had both forgotten to bring water bottles, so pose here with the Canada moose water bladders they bought at the park gift shop before we set out on a hike to Dickson Falls.

After the falls, we visiting Shiphaven Cove and walked down to the beautifully forlorn beach there.

That night, we took advantage of the longer hours of daylight and the low tide scheduled for 7:30 p.m. and visited Hopewell Rocks. It was closed, but the sign at the entrance said "Enter at your own risk" rather than "Do not enter." Uncharacteristically, my mother suddenly declared, "Sometimes the best adventures are the riskiest adventures." So we parked outside the gates and walked in. SO worth it, as we had the following view totally to ourselves:

With a healthy respect for how fast the tide can come in over such flat ground (apparently faster than a galloping horse, we've heard anecdotally), we took our adventure a step further and started flouting signs that clearly said not just "enter at your own risk," but "CLOSED." Which is how we got the famous Hopewell Rocks "flowerpots" all to ourselves.

The next day, we took to the sea with a kayaking trip that ended up being a little too intense; after only about 20 minutes out on the open ocean, the swells were so high that whitecaps were forming and the guides, when in the trough of a wave, could not see us clients. In the purposefully calm tone of voice professional tour guides use when they don't want to alarm you but need you to obey them immediately, they told us to turn around and head back to the estuary. Which we did. Those were definitely the most intense waves I've ever kayaked in, which was a fun experience, but it was also kind of intense, and I was relieved to head away from the swells and back to calmer water.

Though it was no longer on the Bay of Fundy, we did have one more New Brunswick adventure before leaving the province. On the beach at Irving Eco-Center, north of Bouctouche, we met an Acadian couple digging for cohogs. They were both adorable octogenarians, delighted to give us the low-down on clam-collecting and their favorite clam pot-pie recipe.

Sweet!
And very satisfying goodbye to New Brunswick before we pointed our car toward the Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island.