Farewell to Canada

If you are travelling Southbound and take the first exit from the Confederation Bridge in New Brunswick you are delivered to the Cape Jouriman Nature Centre. It doubles as a place to catch the shuttle bus. If your work took you frequently between Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick you might get ticked off about paying a $45 toll for every return trip, so you can leave your vehicle and catch the shuttle bus. We were told that a number of local folk have calculated that it is cheaper to own a car in each province and take the shuttle across the bridge.

There is no problem about parking in the gravel lot for shuttle riders, but the man at the Nature Centre gate allowed us to park on the centre's nice, level, asphalt parking lot.

Arrival in New Brunswick meant that we had visited all the Canadian provinces and territories except Nunavut. And there are no roads into Nunavut, which includes large sparsely inhabited tracts of mainland Canada, Baffin Land and all the other major Arctic islands. Nunavut is certainly worth exploring, but it is difficult and expensive to do so.

The Cape Jouriman Nature Centre is not the least of New Brunswick's attractions. We enjoyed the information to be found inside, and then walked a short nature trail ...

… where we encountered this rabbit …

… and these flowers.

New Brunswick's coast is one shore of the Bay of Fundy, famous for having the highest tides in the world. One of the must-see features on the shore is the Hopewell Rocks, but we managed to arrive when the tide was dead wrong and you have to pay a significant fee before you can assess whether there is still anything worth seeing. The high tide would certainly have covered an awful lot as it rose its 40 feet (12 metres) or whatever it is. So we didn't see the Hopewell Rocks. We later met a couple who had visited them at high tide and their assessment was that it was still worthwhile. Damn.

Now why would you name a restaurant “Fred's”? Fred may be an excellent chef but, to us, the name lacks market appeal. Isn't prejudice a terrible thing? We were self-catering anyway.

We were much more successful at Saint Martins.

• We did see the sea caves. 
• We decided it was time for a paid campground and we found a very nice one.
• Eve finally got her birthday present.

The latter needs elaboration. Bill promised Eve that, for her birthday, she would have a lobster dinner. On the actual day we were in Alberta, which has no coastline and therefore no lobsters. During our travels we had been solemnly promised that the best lobsters were to be found in Newfoundland, in Nova Scotia, in New Brunswick and in Maine. Our various informants were, as you might have guessed, residents of one of those provinces.

The campground recommended one of the two cafes by the sea caves and we each ordered the lobster dinner. Whilst it was well outside the hamburger price range, in truth the tariff was reasonable. Compared to New Zealand's crayfish it was dirt cheap. We each got a whole lobster and a device similar to nutcrackers to help with removing the shell. There were also some chips and lots of butter. Neither of us can remember any green vegetables with the meal. It was delicious.

The campground was right behind the beach. There was a full moon that night.

The sea caves (photographed through the windscreen).

The local fishing fleet at high tide. At low tide they rest on the mud.

Saint Martins has a covered bridge. Doesn't that look nice?

In the morning we went into the local butchery. The meat looked excellent. As we made our selection we mentioned to the butcher that we would be entering the USA in a couple of days. “They won't let meat in.” We already had enough meat for our remaining time in Canada, so we sadly replaced what we had chosen. It would have been a criminal waste to see that food go into a customs' trash sack.

Another Fundy attraction is the Reversing Falls in Saint John. At low tide the water tumbles down towards the sea and at high tide it 'falls' upriver. To properly appreciate it you have to either stay there for 6 hours or visit at different stages of the tide.

The tide is coming in and the water is flowing from right to left. It was only about half tide and although the flow was fast it wasn't particularly spectacular.

At nearly low tide the water is flooding out. There are also rapids out of the picture above the bridge.

The current and the rocks interact to create remarkable chutes and whirlpools.

This cormorant had enough confidence to go fishing in the most turbulent water.

Flowers growing beside the steps down to the viewing platform.

Bill was most impressed and would have gone back again nearer full tide. Eve rather wondered what the fuss was all about.

In Saint John we attempted without success to open a US dollar account that we could operate on our Canadian debit cards. The Scotiabank personnel were most apologetic, but it couldn't be done. They suggested we try a competitor bank that they knew offered this service. Only it didn't. So we had to enter the USA with a handful of greenbacks and our NZ credit card.

One other event of note happened in Saint John. We patronised a McDonalds. Only for a coffee each, but it was money in McDonalds' till. After 6 months in North America that is still the only occasion.

From Saint John it is not a long drive to the border crossing between St. Stephen, New Brunswick and Calais, Maine. Now, if you just pronounced the latter place name the French way, Kallay, you are on the wrong side of the Atlantic. In Maine it is sounded Kallis, and the 'proper' pronunciation just gets a blank look. We know.

Along the highway Bill missed an exit signposted to the border crossing. Why the main road doesn't go straight there is a puzzle, but it doesn't. It was a divided highway and we couldn't do a u-turn. So we switched on Malcolm-Edgar, the GPS unit, and followed his instructions towards Calais.

In St. Stephen we were directed along some minor, but quite drivable streets, and then turned across a bridge. On the far side was a US Customs Post. Vehicles are directed off the road into an inspection area. There was a bar across to indicate a maximum height, and that was just OK. And there were concrete poles at the side. The trouble was, the access way was not straight and Gregory is a very long vehicle. We got stuck between the poles.

Eventually we had to back out and drive around to the US side of the building, where we parked and were duly processed and admitted to the USA. The border guard did his duty in a proper manner, and was very pleasant with it. We didn't mention his obnoxious colleague in Poker Creek, Alaska (See Quick update from Watson Lake, Yukon on 6 July). Eve's handbag was inspected to see if she was “packing”, i.e. carrying a gun. He must have seen our astonishment because he justified himself. “It does happen.”

What had happened to get us stuck was that Malcolm-Edgar had selected, in his inscrutable silicon way, one of three border crossings over the river. Internet research had always mentioned the St. Stephen-Calais border crossing as a singular noun so we had no reason to suspect that there is a choice. At the main one they even have a lane dedicated to RVs, but ours was not the first GPS to deliver an oversize vehicle to this small entry port.

And so we were able to drive on to the Calais Walmart to stock up on meat, fruit and vegetables and spend our first night of the trip on US soil.