I know that nobody could boast of having seen all that there is to see in a lifetime in such a vast place as Canada- but I do at least feel that I have seen much more now than the flat lands around Montréal and the Monteregie! Our trip to Prince Edward Island gave me a nice holiday and a different outlook on life here, and provided much food for thought, new experiences and a welcome break from "routine", whatever that is supposed to mean!
My last entry was shortly before we left, so I should pick up from there. I appreciate that many of my readers are unlikely to be interested in the whole of this blog, therefore I will break it down so it is not a travelogue- hopefully there will be something for everyone in each soundbite!
Saturday 27th June:
I even had time to make a reasonable blog entry, in the waiting time before we could collect our hire car and load all our huge expedition's equipment (going camping here seems to entail something similar to a National Geographic film expedition, in scale!) When I went with Sarah (Sylvie's cousin) and her boyfriend Rodrigo to collect the hire car, I was pleased to note that it was no longer a Jeep Grand Cherokee, as I could imagine very few less economical and practical vehicles for a motorway trip. Instead, we had a cheaply made, but capacious and practical Dodge Grand Caravan. With the two rear seats folded, there was ample room for four people, a huge cooler, two tents and a thousand other items not necessary to mention here. We packed up very quickly once the last minute shopping had been done, but still left Boucherville much later than intended, around 7:30 pm! I took the first shift, through some rather boring countryside. In fact, partly because it was dark presently, there was nothing beyond the road to indicate what kind of country we were passing through. We made Québec city in good time, then Riviere du Loup, finally changing drivers when I had driven the very bucolic road from Edmundston, about 7 hours in total. We had frequent stops, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I could retain concentration so long (acknowledgements to RedBull!).
The truck stops were welcome diversions, though I found that as we travelled further East, the mosquitoes had an ever greater afinity for me, and flocked to me every time I stepped out of the vehicle.
The sunrise was unspectacular, but revealed some impressive scenery as we travelled on into Sunday morning. The road seemed very lonely, and it didn't do too much good to reflect on the distance from any hospital or help! Especially winceworthy were the huge sets of tyre marks slewing across then off the road, indicating a truck driver who had dozed off at the wheel. We saw no trace of the animals of which we were warned, moose, deer, etc, and it was something of a relief to see the sunrise as we drove into New Brunswick. We missed the whole of the Appalachian mountain drive, as we passed it in the night, but that was in store for the return journey!
Sunday 29 June: Across to the Island!
The scenery had (that which we had seen) was not especially awe inspiring, but the sight of the Confederation Bridge's sleek 12km crossing the waters took my breath away. By this time I had switched back to driving, and found it to be quite adrenaline fuelling, driving between two very solid concrete walls many metres above the waters. The tense silence from the passengers informed me that I was not the only one to find it quite an "experience"!
After the bridge came the Gateway Village, a rather kitsch and uninspiring set of shops and houses, with the ever-prevalent Tim Hortons providing their usual good bathroom facilities. We were pleasantly surprised at the price of petrol on the island, one of many positive aspects to touring so far from home in a thirsty car.
The drive to Charlottetown was a little hairy, through some pastoral and very archetypal scenery, but we arrived without incident, and discovered our overnight motel. Once we had checked in our baggage, a little early, we set off into Charlottetown to explore a little and get some essentials, mostly food.
Monday 30th June:
The Islanders were friendly, but not exceptionally good at giving directions, but eventually we found Stanhope National Park camp ground, and drove around to select a plot in the pouring rain.
It was extremely damp, but not actually raining when we set up camp, and we looked nervously at the tents, wondering if they could really hold out the deluges that were expected in the coming week. A walk along the beach in the rain was not ideal, yet it served to remind me of England.
We were pleased to discover a shelter for campers who were finding it impossible to light fires outside, and even more pleased to discover that it had a working stove. We enquired about the firewood which was on sale from the entrance station, and were told it had been uncovered all day, therefore was too wet to use, but we were welcome to try it for free.
We took an armful of logs each, and managed to get a rather nice blaze going in the little stove. A family of mice decided that things were getting too hot for them in their ash-pan home, and we assisted them in their exodus, sheltering them in a corner and giving them a few nibbles.
It was not exceptionally comfortable, sleeping in damp tents, especially as we had no heater overnight, but the fireside cooking and warmth had greatly helped before bed. It was a great adventure for me to wake, as I had so often read of, to the sun shining on the tent walls and the birds singing all round. If anything, it was a rather sanitised and modernised camp that I awoke to, with a propane stove to cook the percolated coffee, and cold produce from a cooler big enough to swallow a man! Presumably I had been expecting something more on the lines of Arthur Ransome's books, sleeping rough on the boards of a boat, or under a tent strung between two trees. A tame jackrabbit or hare was grazing peacefully in the next plot when I awoke, and I enjoyed watching him nibbling while the breakfast eggs were cooking.
The camp proved to have an enthusiastic population of mosquitoes, who instantly homed in on their favourite food source- me. Therefore most of the time in camp was spent covered in a foul smelling and dangerous tasting but effective insect repellant. I was extremely glad of the hot showers provided at no great distance from the camp, but less than enthusiastic at having to take a shower in flipflops to keep off the filthy floor!
Tuesday 1st July:
On Tuesday, we began to explore, as there was little sense in heading for the beach for a day basking in the pouring rain. We enquired at the camp entrance about the nearest stores for grocery, and I found it vaguely disconcerting that the staff had to have quite a consultation before they agreed that a fuel station about 6km away was the best nearby source.
Our drive took us down by the coast, and I was very poignantly reminded of Norfolk as we passed sand dunes, pines, a small lighthouse and a little harbour at Brackley. Heading further inland, we discovered a very interesting and idiosyncratic store called "The Great Canadian Soap Co".
The owners produce soap from organic goats milk, grown right beside the factory. It looked a high quality product, and of course had all the essential words in its description that make it irresistible to women: "organic, home produced, all-natural, essential oils"...! The goats were very tame, as was the dog on duty in the parking lot, who seemed much more interested in the cars than their conductors!
After lightening the budget somewhat with essential products, we drove further on into the interior, finding "our" fuel station. It had most of the grocery we needed, at a not unreasonable price, so we stocked up and returned to camp. Sylvie and I decided to explore a little further while Rodrigo and Sarah took a longer walk; we dropped them near the lighthouse, around a 4km walk, and drove further into the countryside to find a source of meat for supper. The service station was unable to provide us with anything remotely useful in this department, so we turned right onto the highway #6, out towards the coast again.
Discovery number one was a lucky one, a roadside stall selling wonderful local potatoes and strawberries; we were not aware of how wonderful the potatoes were at this stage, but they looked extremely good. The lady who sold us our fresh grocery advised us to travel a little further up route 6, to Rustico, where there was a better general store selling fresh island-grown meat. The recommendation proved to be a very good one, as the store not only sold very high quality coffee, but supplied all our other wants. We obtained some good steaks, retrospectively very good value indeed.
A little further up the road, we found the rather quaint town of North Rustico, with a vintage harbour and very up to date liquor store, where prices were much better than in our home province. We purchased some beers (which campfire would be complete without?) and a nice bottle of wine also, taking advantage of the island's lower prices; next door at Home Hardware, we purchased some very cheap but absolutely essential items, a poncho for me (I had no rain wear!) and some instant firelighters. (The previous evening's fire lighting had been performed with large numbers of island tourist brochures...!)
Everywhere that is anywhere on Prince Edward Island seems to have a signboard, probably a feature to benefit the huge tourist industry; one which fascinated us on passing it a couple of times, was the "The Cheese Lady, Gouda Cheese". One of my culinary passions is for cheese, and we had plenty of time to explore, so we took the short diversion. The place turned out to be a farmhouse store, selling Gouda in around 15 varieties. The lady owner was just closing up for the day, but she let us in to purchase a couple of delicious pieces, one a mature gouda with chilli, another with onions and spices.
Some inspiration made me suggest a potato salad to utilise the island potatoes, and with the steaks, the meal was an enormous success. We cooked again in the shelter, as the weather was too fickle to safely permit us to cook at our firepit. The only time we were disturbed, was the occasion when a ranger politely informed us that we were not supposed to be drinking alcohol in the public shelter, which was more of an oversight on our part than anything. He seemed more concerned that the bottles were visible, than that we were drinking, as people were free to drink in the camping places.
We had not yet fulfilled many of our wants for the island, namely kayaking, fishing, horse riding and touring. Therefore, when the camp was finally all active and dressed (not far short of midday!) we set off again for route 6, to see if we could attain some of our objectives. Luckily we did not have to tour far before we discovered a place with a large collection of horses set up for trail riding. I was a little apprehensive, not so much with trusting myself on a creature's back, as worrying about smashing my kneecaps on a gate post or hurting the horse's mouth with the bit. In any case, I was soon given a horse called Miss Muffett, whose only vice appeared to be stopping to eat the flowers on the trail. I remembered the advice given by my father, and which I had read, about controlling the horse with the reins and my legs, and staying upright in the saddle. Apart from the fact one of my stirrups was badly adjusted, I loved the whole experience, though the 45 minute gentle amble through the trails was a little "tame". Horse riding is an experience I could quickly become addicted to.
Wednesday 2nd July:
As the weather had yet to improve, we wished to see some more of the island, in particular the Cavendish village, which was home for some time to Lucy Maude Montgomery, author of "Anne of Green Gables" and other similar books. The rain mercifully held off and gave us a pleasant afternoon's walk in the countryside. We viewed the ruins of the farmhouse where LMM grew up with her grandparents, also the post office in which she worked (I took this opportunity to buy some postcards, and for once, to post them from the place in which they were purchased!)
The day was full of many nice experiences, in particular the walk to, and tour around, "Green Gables", which had been furnished in period style, albeit untypically for the original tenants. The gardens were very beautiful, and I introduced Sylvie to the properties of Snapdragon flowers. The garden had a very English look, with Snapdragons, peonies, pansies and rose bushes. The only problem I have with this kind of experience, is that it is excessively nostalgic, rather like the preserved steam railways, and in this case it was "more English than the English". It was very amusing to see the kids being inducted into a game of "what's the time, Mr Wolf?" on the green lawns at the front of the house.
We wished to have a lobster supper after our walk and touristy afternoon, and drove to a couple of locations, searching for a suitable outlet. The most famous one, in New Glasgow, had prices that sent us straight out of the door again, especially as most other restaurants had lobster on sale at market price. In the end, we returned to Cavendish, to a very pleasant restaurant named Chez Yvonne. The nice meal, resonably priced, set the seal on a very pleasant day in less than ideal weather.
Thursday 3rd July:
The week seemed to have passed far too quickly, and we had still to tick off all the activities on our "must do" list, so we decided to tour a little more. We took a drive to a place called Greenwich, further North in the Island. Barring roadworks and very temperamental weather, it was an interesting drive. Greenwich point turned out to be a pleasant but exposed spot on the coast, with a high observation tower that swayed alarmingly in the wind. We took a walk on the beach also, but found it much too cold to venture into the water. The nature reserve on either side of the boardwalk was fascinating, and again reminded me of trips to the Norfolk coast, back in the old country.
Friday 4th July
The only day (with Murphy's law, it had to be our last on the campsite!) on which the sun shone with any power! We had anxiously watched the forecast all week, and badly wanted to enjoy the beach for at least one day, after all, the sand and sea was one of the chief reasons we had come to this place! The day dawned a little threatening of storms, but otherwise quite bearable, and we decided to drive to the Island's most recommended beach, Cavendish.
It was not a novel experience for me, being on a windy and not extremely sunny beach, but I greatly enjoyed the time, and the same went for all of our party. We built a large sandcastle, which was the envy of many around, though the wind dissolved it in a matter of minutes. I went into the water not as much out of bravado, as simply wanting to bathe in the ocean; it was cold, but certainly not too cold for me, and I was quite surprised to note that I and maybe four or five others were the only ones who ventured into the water. It was great to feel the waves lift me again, the sand between the toes, and the taste of the ocean reminded me of trips out of season to the Lincolnshire and Norfolk coastlines- and made me nostalgic for fish and chips served with Lincolnshire pork sausage!
Later in the evening, when we had washed a little and removed most of the sand from our bodies, we purchased some cooked lobster from the Brackley bay area fishery; we were originally intending to purchase live lobster and cook it ourselves, but nowhere could we find a suitable pan for sale; not only that, but I was not looking forward to murdering eight or ten innocent lobsters by boiling them alive or smashing their heads in! As not all of our party was happy to eat lobster cold, we eventually compromised by removing all the meat back in camp, frying it in butter and seasoning, then serving it with rice. I do not recommend hand picking lobster flesh while tempers are short and kitchen facilities are limited to nutcrackers and camping cutlery! Next time, we shall have to take along a more or less complete kitchen, or else simplify our diet.
While we were cooking in the shelter, an enormous storm passed over very closely, perhaps the flip side of the sunshine we had enjoyed in the day. We were a little disconcerted to see that an event would be held in "our" shelter, should the weather be inclement, but by 8pm, we had the place to ourselves as the storm had passed over. It was very dramatic, witnessing a full scale thunderstorm in an open-fronted shed, an exciting send off to our last night in camp! As we had purchased a heater during the day, going to bed in the tent was not quite as damp an experience; here endeth the lesson!
Saturday 5th July:
Of course, we wished to stay on for longer when the departure day dawned, but truly it was time we moved, with extremely poor weather forecast for the next few days. During the night, our camp was raided by foxes, and I was awoken at 5am by the sound of polystyrene plates being munched noisily and our garbage bag being dragged behind the tents and ravaged. The foxes evidently approved of our PEI potato salad, as they had enjoyed a fair sampling from the bowl left out overnight. Our friend the rabbit had deserted the campsite as we had neighbours next door. At least we felt vindicated in our choice of Cavendish beach the previous afternoon, as our new neighbours informed us that it had rained almost nonstop on the Friday back in Stanhope.
We packed away reasonably quickly, as we did not wish to be held up on the return journey, which would prove to be another experience itself. Rodrigo took first driving shift, out of the island, while Sylvie and I tried to sleep. I gave it up as a bad job, being a nervous passenger most of the time, and wishing to write to my parents on the way home.
It was interesting to see in daylight, the amazing scenery of New Brunswick which we had passed in the dark on our outbound journey. In particular, crossing the Appalachians in torrential rainstorms proved to be an amazing experience, especially when the road-level clouds and fog parted to give us a glimpse of river valleys and beautiful mountains. We switched drivers in the middle of nowhere, and as on the outbound journey, I was driving as we crossed the border into Québec.
The night took on quite a surreal quality, especially stopping at a MacDonalds just outside Québec City at around 11pm. Again, the experience of crossing a time zone seemed very strange when travelling in a car, but judging by the number of Ontario licence plates we saw in the East, many others have the same experience.
We finally rolled into Boucherville at exactly 1am, and unloaded the equipment as quietly as possible, with one thought uppermost in my mind- bed! It felt extremely good to curl up between clean sheets, in a dry room, despite my fancy that I like to live life "in the rough" sometimes.
Sunday, perversely, was warm and sunny, but it did at least allow us to set up the tent and dry out our damp equipment, for a (hopefully) drier camp next time. We are talking more about hiring a small cabin next time, though it is much more expensive than tent camping of course. Ideally, a bed and breakfast would be best, or on a more serious note, moving permanently to the island. It is something which Sylvie and I are pursuing as a possibility, with property being so cheap in the Island, and her employer's head office being situated in Charlottetown. More on that later, now I am off to enjoy what is left of this Sunday, one week on.
