Hopewell Rocks, Bay of Fundy, New Brunswick

I had great plans for my trip to the Maritimes. Flipping through my trusty guide showed a few things that flew to the top of my to do list, like Green Gables House (which I've since heard is not the former home of L.M. Montgomery as many locals say, but reproduction of some distant relative's house. Mental note: Google the details of this, self). I planned days to take the ferry to PEI, as well as hike the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia.

Not planned was the kind of chest cold that makes asthmatics like me cower in bed with an inhaler in one hand and a tube of Hall's cough drops in the other. A few days into my trip, my only goal was to make it home in one, breathing piece.

I did, however, manage to visit one spot on my list: the Bay of Fundy, in New Brunswick, which boasts the highest tides in the world.

Low tide

High tide (...holi-tide inn! If your woman starts acting up,
then you take her friend!)

We made our way to what I thought was the National Park mentioned in the book. My first inkling that it might be the wrong one is that my trio paid $24 to get in, as opposed to the $2 per person mentioned in the book. However, even if we had made it to the right park, the fees have gone up since my edition was printed.

At any rate, we missed walking along the ocean floor, thanks to some other tourists, like the kind who are told the admission rate and - in spite of the various large signs proclaiming the same information - seem surprised by the amount, and then have to express their puzzlement while retrieving their funds with a slowness that makes ketchup stuck in a bottle seem like it qualifies for the Indy 500. (There was also a couple who were arguing with the gate attendant because access to the ocean floor is closed off during high tide, and that couple wanted to walk along the floor, dang it! Seriously, they were arguing as if the attendant could just stop the tide from coming in. It was...something.)

The trip was still worthwhile, since the areas we could approach were very pretty. I'm hoping we make it back next year so I can walk along the shore at low tide.

The husband is good at so many things. Taking pictures is not
one of them. Here is a picture of me racing to the shoreline after
setting the self-timer. Obviously, I didn't run fast enough.

Yay, ocean - even if it is the Atlantic (which will do, but I am
from California, after all. Of course I think the Pacific Ocean is
the best. Because it is.)

 

 

 

Obligatory tourist-y shot.

Oh, wait! I glanced at my guide and realized that the entry for Nova Scotia is about Cape Breton Island and the Cabot Trail. So, I got one half of it done:

From a boat (answering the eternal question, "Would you, could
you, on a boat?" - as long as we're talking about taking pictures).

By the way, the Atlantic is freaking COLD.