Follow Marie-Julie and her family on their journey across Canada – part 4
Where to start? Really, we made two trips to New Brunswick. First, around Shediac, where we basked on Parlee Beach, with a side-trip to Moncton and the iconic Hopewell Rocks. Then, a second trip, to the Acadian Peninsula, where we learned firsthand that people from New Brunswick are just as hospitable as their reputation suggests. I’ll start with Part 1.
“You are in New Brunswick,” announces Grant McRae of Tourism PEI after we cross the Confederation Bridge. As if it were not enough for Grant to show us all around Prince Edward Island, now he has taken us to the neighbouring province!
After saying our goodbyes, Joseph, Maya and I relax in our room at the Gabrièle Inn, which was originally built as a church in 1840. We then head next door to the Inn’s restaurant for a gargantuan lobster feast (for a change) and some white wine.
The next morning, we head for Parlee, THE beach to visit, according to Canadian Geographic’slist of the country’s most beautiful sand stretches. It is 33 degrees and we have forgotten a minor detail: there are no palm trees here for shade. Without a beach umbrella, we literally bake in the sun. The ads are accurate however: the water truly is warm. Or perhaps our tolerance threshold has gone up a notch in the heat.
That evening, we stroll through the charming streets of Moncton. We stop at the Pump House, a microbrewery on Orange Lane (try their blueberry beer!), and at Kramer’s Corner on Main Street (potent martinis) before returning to our temporary nest in Shediac.
The start of another full day. George Le Roc, founder of EastLink ShuttleExpress, agrees to drive us to the Hopewell Rocks on the Bay of Fundy. Founded three years ago, his company now offers travel packages (notably to Cape Breton and Halifax in Nova Scotia). The three-hour ride costs about $85 per person (with a five-person minimum, but it is possible to join a group), including beverages, lunch and snacks (and even Internet access in the van).
It takes us about an hour to get from Shediac (where the temperature is 29 degrees) to the Bay (where it feels like 5,000 degrees with the wind factor—what was I thinking wearing a skirt!). Here, the highest tides in the world partially cover the “Flowerpot Rocks”, a rock formation created by colliding continents and then sculpted by melting glaciers and erosion.
Our guide, Rick, introduces us to some of the Flowerpots. “This one is Brian Mulroney,” he chuckles, in front of a rock formation that looks like a face with a prominent chin. We walk for a good hour on the rocky beach that the tides had completely covered a few hours earlier. The superlatives keep coming: Fascinating. Impressive. Unique.
An absolute must.
We leave Shediac for Miramichi, where a shuttle takes us to Tracadie-Sheila. By the time we get to the Complexe des Deux Rivières, it is already mid-afternoon. Hungry and exhausted, we are revived by Daniel Chiasson’s (the director of the complex) dynamic personality. Our bodies still need fuel (and LOBSTER!), so we climb aboard Captain Frank’s “ship”. We enjoy our seafood dinner in the company of Wilfred, smiling down at us from a photo on the decorative boat. No doubt about it, we are definitely in the land of the most famous Acadian fisherman.
Halifax, between sea and sky
Halifax immediately stands out from Canada’s other Atlantic cities. On one corner, we see a young punk asking people for spare change. On another, a pierced and tattooed teenager is busking. When I point this out to Joseph, he agrees; it has been a while since we’ve seen anyone begging for money.
After an excellent meal at Chives Canadian Bistro on Barrington Street, we set off to explore the town. It has been two hours since we stepped of the train in Halifax, and we want to take advantage of the sun’s last rays. After strolling down a few hills, we begin the upward climb — a few months of this and we would have legs of steel. The sounds of the Jazz festival lure us into the heart of downtown — where we had just seen street kids for the first time in three weeks.
We are pleasantly surprised by the number of restaurants (of every kind) and shops. “Halifax is now the largest urban centre in the Atlantic provinces, with a population of over 370,000 (including the inhabitants of its twin city, Dartmouth),” according to Ulysses’ Atlantic Canada guide. “It has a more diverse, even cosmopolitan, appearance than the rest of Atlantic Canada, and boasts several superb museums and a whole slew of other attractions.” We are immediately taken with the city, even (or especially?) with its imperfections.
The next day, the rain puts a damper on our explorations. After taking refuge under a tree in the magnificent Victorian Public Gardens, we scurry to a small shopping centre where I quickly spend a few tenners (I can’t resist the sales!). We then head back to our room at the Cambridge Suites Hotel (great for families) to relax.
“Who is Peggy?” we wonder on our way to the little fishing village known as Peggy’s Cove. Our tour guide tells us the story of a young girl, who was presumed to have survived a shipwreck, and rescued by local fishermen. The only word the child could say was “Margaret,” the diminutive of which is “Peggy;” her rescuers thus decided to call her “Peggy”. Curious inhabitants from neighbouring villages would come to see the child, and eventually the village assumed her name. There is also a less romantic explanation: Peggy’s Cove is located on St. Margaret’s Bay.
As we approach the site, the mist thickens, enshrouding the cove in mystery. A lighthouse looms on the horizon. Tourists are bustling around us and clicking away at a mad pace. We are engrossed by the drama of the waves crashing against the rock. Everyone wants a record of their visit to Peggy’s Point, and we are no exception.
Just beyond the crowds, it’s dead calm. Lobster season is over, and the fishermen have gone, leaving their gear on the shore (or maybe it’s there to impress the tourists), to the delight of amateur photographers. Near the sheds built on stilts, the lobster traps, anchors, fishing boats and ropes give the impression that Peggy’s Cove is frozen in time. The modest houses blend into the poetic setting. Maybe it’s just the mist, but for a second, it feels like Peggy’s Cove is not quite real.
Our heads filled with these images, we dash off to the airport. We will not have time to visit Cape Breton Island, renowned worldwide for its beauty, but we’ll take a rain check. This time, Air Canada is flying us to St. John’s, Newfoundland. In a little over two days, we’ll be on our way home to Quebec!
It is 10 p.m. and we are in our room at the Fairmont Newfoundland Hotel in St. John’s, NL. Maya has been asleep ever since we entered the taxi. Joseph and I decide to celebrate the end of our journey with a feast: LOBSTER! We enjoy it in the tranquillity of our hotel room while thinking about how lucky we are to have visited the entire country together.
At sunrise the next day, we head for Signal Hill, a rocky landmark visible from anywhere in the city. It was there that Marconi received the first trans-Atlantic wireless signal, an “S” in Morse code, on December 12, 1901. Maybe it’s just the cumulative fatigue, but I am suddenly choked with emotion. For a moment, I stand motionless at the commemorative plaque. For a person like me, fascinated with communication, this is practically a pilgrimage site.
I pull myself together and join Joseph, Maya and our taxi driver. The view is spectacular. “Last month, you could still see the ice floes,” he tells us in an accent that I have trouble deciphering. “Sometimes you can see whales.”
Next, we head for the village of Quidi Vidi (try saying that 100 times with a mouth full of crackers), a charming fishing village with brightly coloured houses. The history of the Vikings fascinates me, and I would have loved to visit the north of the province. But it is time to go home.
What better way to conclude our adventure than by returning to the source? Less than 24 hours after arriving in St. John’s, we land in Bagotville, where my father is waiting to take us back to my native Lac Saint-Jean. At journey’s end, Maya is singing the lobster song. We have all returned from this voyage with wonderful memories.
P.S.: I never saw a bear. And to be honest, it’s a relief.
Courtesy of the Canadian Tourist Commission
Marie-Julie has worked in the communications field since 1994. She is a freelance journalist, a columnist, a researcher and a reporter for print, broadcast, and online media. She is also the author of a travelogue, Cartes postales d’Asie (www.cartespostalesdasie.com) published in 2007 by Mémoire d’encrier, and a book for young travellers, Embarquement immédiat (Stanké, 2004, www.edstanke.com/ShowGuidePage.asp?CodeProduit=295687). She has set down her backpack in twenty or so countries and has been keeping a blog, Taxi-brousse (www.marieju.com), since spring 2008. She admits to knowing Asia better than her own country. But that is about to change!
