Nova Scotia was chill. Prince Edward Island is even chiller. It’s the place that the word “bucolic” was created for. Rolling hills. Cascading sand dunes. Freshwater lakes and ponds right along the ocean. Things are just kind of slower.
Canada is wearing the sharp edges from us. It trolls us with its kindness and gentle nature. Now that we’ve gotten to Prince Edward Island, we are as smooth as the inside of a mussel shell.
We took a ferry to get here but will take a bridge to leave. The Northumberland Ferry costs us about $100 to get on, for a calm 75-minute ride. When I called to make a reservation, the only available spot was on the last ferry of the day, which would have meant campsite arrival in the dark. I hate that.
But we got to the ferry terminal in Caribou, NS early in hopes that we could catch an earlier ride. And that’s exactly what happened. Bonus.
As the ferry took off, I went to the bow and struck up a nice chat with a dude from Ontario – he introduced himself as coming from the same town as Shania Twain. He sells life insurance with the Knights of Columbus, and we talked religion and politics (he’s conservative) in the friendly, Canadian sort of way as his family rolled his eyes.
Departing, we drove to our campground in Cavendish, in a national park on the north edge of the island. We would be at the same spot for four nights, something we’ve never done before. We just slowed down on Prince Edward Island.
This is what we brought our bikes for. Within the park system, which includes several non-contiguous spots for miles along the shore, there are trails everywhere – and we took advantage of them.
Sunday was a day for the ages, including a long run along the shore and bicycle exploration that passed all the bumper cars and pizza shops that make up the touristy main drag of Cavendish, but which we largely avoided thereafter.
We intended to get a lobster supper, and on the recommendation of friends, picked New Glasgow Lobster Suppers. The place keeps its own lobster supply, features all you can eat mussels, and can seat up to 700. The sun was setting. Folks were dressed nicely. We had a bit of a wait but it was entirely worth it. Karen’s Instagram write-up has better descriptions than I can provide. Back at Prufrock, I passed out from a food coma.
Monday’s exercise was a “brick” in heavy rain – bike out 7 miles, five mile run, return by bike. We were drenched but happy. But soon the high-speed data ran out, so we scrambled to relocate to North Rustico to complete our work. It’s the most beautiful little fishing harbor you can imagine.
For dinner, we cooked up the food we brought with us from the Antigonish farmer’s market — burgers and cauliflower at our campground.
At night, we are listening to what we can of the Democratic National Convention but falling asleep before the main speeches.
All for days were pretty much the same: Exploring beaches; working; looking for connections. We found a red-clay “heritage” road for a hilly run. The clay got all over our shoes and floormats. I didn’t realize until later that it was such a feature that there are T-shirts and hats dyed with the red clay as mementos. We even had a second lobster supper in North Rustico at a competing place. It wasn’t as good.
The most common question you get asked when you tell folks you are on Prince Edward Island is “Did you see the Anne of Green Gables house?”
Not quite. Karen is incredibly literary, and a voracious reader throughout her life, but that book series was not her thing. She remembers being more entranced by Harriet the Spy and Little House on the Prairie. So, we made it to the National Historic Site and the giftshop, but didn’t go inside. We got enough of the flavor.
Departing, we crossed the Confederation Bridge to get back to New Brunswick. It’s eight miles long, and an amazing engineering feat that was completed in the 1990s. We were both shocked that we never heard of it before. It’s twice as long as the Bay Bridge, and could be a little frightening to some.
So we are heading south, toward home, with sadness growing.
