The Great Escape from Grand Manan

Julie and I woke the next morning at a very chilly, ungodly hour. We bundled into as many layers as we could, and emerged from the van, pleased to find that the gas smell had dissipated. We rushed over to a dock that looked rather busy, and found our whale watching tour. The boat was somewhat small, but fit about 15 passengers all eager to see some whales in their natural habitat. I was extremely excited myself. There have been very few things on this trip that I have insisted on doing, but whale watching was certainly one of them!

The captain of the boat did a mini safety demonstration before informing us that if we didn’t see any whales today, he wouldn’t charge us for the trip out. “Oh and there’s a free first coffee, tea, or hot chocolate for anyone who wants one. Seconds are a dollar each,” he added before assuming his spot and setting out for the open ocean. Content with the trip so far, Julie and I took the time to get comfortable, grab a hot chocolate, and relax as the Atlantic slipped by.

About an hour in, the captain’s first mate announced that we were in prime whale watching territory. Suddenly, a great spout of frothy water launched into the air. It came from quite a ways away, but all the passengers, myself included, leapt to the railing of the boat to catch a better glimpse of the elusive whale. We saw a few more spouts off in the distance, and the captain directed his boat in chase, hoping to get us even closer.

Example of a Finback whale. We saw a lot of these guys.

We whale watched for a good three hours and saw several different members from a pod of finback whales, as well as a handful, at the very end of the trip, of humpbacks, my favourite kind of whale. It was a wonderful trip, and while I didn’t take any photos, I will remember the awe I felt just watching such large, powerful creatures slipping in and out of the waves.

Example of what we saw of the humpback whales.

Back on shore, Julie and I returned to the van feeling quite hungry. We decided to drive down to a little provincial park we’d seen the night before and have ourselves a picnic. We set ourselves up at a picnic table right by the ocean. This time it glittered with the warmth of the sun instead of the cold of the moon’s silvery light. Everything in Grand Manan looked so much more cheery and safe in the daylight than it did the night before!

We ate salad for lunch and when we were finished, Julie suggested we stay and relax for a little while. So we unpacked our camping chairs, pulled out our books and our sunscreen, and read for the next three hours. At some point, I decided to get up and do the dishes, and I packed them all away in the van. Then I asked Julie, “What time did that man who followed us last night say the ferry left?” “Three o’clock.” “What time is it now…” “Twenty to three.” We looked at each other. A silent decision to hastily pack up and race for the ferry crossed between us, and then we were both bolting into the van, buckling our belts, starting up the beast, and powering down the dirt road to the highway as quickly as the speed limit would allow. Once on the highway, we were rolling at 80km/hour, but the fast-stretch didn’t last for long, falling into 50km/hour zones frequently. Julie and I both knew it was only 1/2 hour from one end of the island to the other, but we were not sure whether we would catch the ferry or not, and we were not willing to get a speeding ticket in order to do so.

Eventually I could see the ferry. It was docked, but I was sure it was preparing to pull away. We arrived at the gate, our adrenalin causing us to be a bit out of breath and fidgety. The lady at the gate was very pleasant with us. “Hi there, how can I help you?” “We’d like to get a ticket for the ferry please,” Julie answered. “Which ferry?” asked the woman. “Uhhh, preferably the 3pm ferry.” The woman looked at us, almost in disbelief. She glanced quickly at her watch and radioed the ferrymen. “Hi boys, do you have the doors shut yet, over?” she asked. “Not yet, over,” came the response. The woman shot us a sly smile. “Do you have room for one more vehicle, over?” “Yeah sure, send it in, over.” Julie and I glanced at each other. I fist pumped a little. I know, but it was just such an exhilarating moment.

“You girls are so lucky,” commented the woman as she rang through our ferry toll. “They usually have the doors closed already and are off at precisely 3:30pm.” “What time did we get here?” We asked her. “Three twenty nine exactly.” It was fate.

Elated by our successful dash for the ferry, Julie and I rewarded ourselves with some tea and a cup full of coffee-flavoured ice cream. Then we started reading our books when who should come and sit down with us, but the man from the truck the night before!

As I said earlier, the daylight changes everything, and it was the same case for this gentleman, whom we learned was nicknamed Beaver, after the character on the old show Leave it to Beaver. While I’d been terrified the night before that he’d possibly been a crazy psycho killer out to kidnap and murder us, my opinion 180’ed and I found that Beaver was actually a really kind, friendly, and interesting person. The three of us had a very nice chat about the whale watching among other things, and then he was off to attend to his duties since he worked on the ferry. I told Julie almost immediately what a nice guy I thought he was. I was a little ashamed I’d even thought he could be a serial killer. But I couldn’t help it the night before. I’m a bit of a freak of nature that way; I always think that I’m going to encounter an evil murderer and meet my doom.

Before the end of the ferry ride, Beaver joined us again, and we had another lovely chat. Julie and I both left the ferry, and Grand Manan Island, very pleased with the entire day, and most especially with the friendly and generous people we’d met.

-Nicole

Introduction to Grand Manan

Has anyone else ever heard of Grand Manan? Before this trip of ours, I personally hadn’t heard of it. But it is an island located off the Southish coast of New Brunswick, and it’s totally part of New Brunswick. Julie and I took the last ferry across that night, the 9pm ferry. The ride was an hour and a half, and by the time we got to Grand Manan, it was very dark out.

Allow me to set the scene for you: The island is dark, with very few street lights illuminating the roads. No houses or shops have their lights on. It feels like a ghost town. A large silver globe hangs in the starless sky, illuminating the icy waters that surround the dark, deserted island, reminding the residents and visitors of their inability to escape. The two young women in the light blue hippy van take their first right off the ferry, lacking a map or proper directions to lead them where they need to go: Seal Cove. The road leads to a very desolate part of town, one where the houses are vacant, with rags of old blankets hanging in the dark windows, lit only by the reflection of the moon on the dirty panes of glass. They women hastily turn around, lest there be any ghosts haunting the premises (a deep fear of Julie’s). They continue on one of the sole highways on the island, almost the only vehicle in the streets, almost.

The vague directions provided to them by the lady that owns the whale watching tours out of Grand Manan the young women follow as best they can. They look for a hill, as mentioned by the lady, a hill at the bottom of which will reveal a road that will lead to a free parking lot where the young women can park for the night. They drive slowly, and angry drivers pass by on their left. One vehicle doesn’t pass, so out of consideration, the young women pull over with their hazards on. To their dismay, because they are grumpy and a little nervous, the car slows as well, and pulls up cautiously beside them. In the car is a pleasant mother of two children who sit sleepily in the back seat. She asks if the young women need help. They answer, and she points them to the road they seek, then drives off into the night.

The young women turn left onto the road. They drive slowly, as the road is lit only by their headlights, but features many hills over which they cannot see. The road continues straight towards the coast for fifteen minutes, and opens to a very dark and empty parking lot. The lot is right by the ocean. The women can hear the waves lapping against the beach, but they cannot see them as the lot is surrounded by a thick covering of tall reeds. In fact, the reeds surround the entire, empty lot; a lot that exists so that hikers may park their vehicles to walk the trails along the beach; a lot that is nowhere near a house or shop, or any ear that may come to the rescue if necessary. The women decide the lot is probably a good place to get kidnapped and murdered by some freaky serial killer who waits for unsuspecting women to emerge from the late-night ferry, and so they turn back.

They drive on, into the night, passing Dark Harbour, Little Dark Harbour, Deep Cove Beach. Finally, a dimly lit harbour comes into view, and then they see it: a sign that reads Seal Cove. Relieved, they pull slowly into a parking lot situated right beside the harbour. They pull as tight as they can to the grass edging the gravel lot. They park the car, but do not turn off the ignition, discussing whether or not they might be towed from the area if they remain there, when they see a large black truck pulling around and then right up beside them. A man sits in the truck. He leans out the window, so the women open the driver’s side window to speak to the man. He asks if they are lost or in any sort of trouble. The women assure him they are fine. The conversation continues, and he reveals that he followed them from the ferry. The one woman is worried about this revelation since her friend has recently divulged that they are travelling alone. The conversation ends eventually, with confirmation from the man that the young women will most likely not be towed and a “good evening” from each side.

The women roll up their window and lock their doors. They snuggle the van in even closer to the grass hill beside the lot and then drop all the blinds. Upon entering the back of the van, they prepare for bed but they can’t help but notice a faint smell of gas. The smell strengthens when they climb into their soft, warm bed, and they panic a little about getting carbon monoxide poisoning, or getting sick from the gas fumes. One woman (Nicole) worries about the possibility of some freaky serial killer dumping gas on the van, planning to blow the women to pieces for mere pleasure. They decide to emerge from the van to check if there is a leak in their gas tank. This has the one woman worrying about being kidnapped or attacked once outside, but she goes out anyway, her companion following. They kneel beside the van but see no gas leak. The gas smell seems to come solely from inside the vehicle. They climb back in. Paranoid, they make a quick phone call asking about the gas smell and are reassured that it probably just comes from idling too long. They open all the windows, even though the outside is very cold, and they huddle under their sheets until sleep mercifully takes them away from their worries.

-Nicole

New Brunswick: Land of the Majestic Moose

I have to admit, we did not give New Brunswick a very good chance to impress us, but although we weren’t there long, our experience certainly turned out to be quite memorable! We drove into New Brunswick from Nova Scotia. We knew we’d crossed the border when the first thing we saw was a GIANT “Caution Moose” sign, complete with flashing lights. The thousands of pine trees helped too.

We drove to Moncton as our first New Brunswick stop. We got there fairly late, but we had a little raw veggies, cheese and crackers picnic in our van (in the VIA parking lot…we’d been hoping to steal free wifi), and we had a restful sleep. In the morning, we visited Magnetic Hill. I’ve been there before, but I don’t remember it being so touristy! They have a waterpark and everything now! Cloud 9 didn’t make it all the way up the hill, mostly because I stepped on the brakes on the way up because I couldn’t keep Cloud 9 straight while we were being “pulled” uphill. Lame, I know, but still an awesome experience. And to let you all know, the car after us, a TINY, easy-to-maneuver Echo or whatever, had to do the hill TWICE because he didn’t get up even close to half-way the first time. So I’d say I did a pretty decent job.

ANYWAY, right after Magnetic Hill (about 15 minutes all said and done) we high-tailed it out of Moncton and headed straight for the Hopewell Cape. We were there to walk the ocean floor, but we arrived in time for high tide instead. It was really neat watching the tide come in. It’s so quick! The tide rose 46 feet that day. Hopewell Cape boasts some of the highest tides in the world!

It was super cold while we were at the Hopewell Rocks. We cooked chicken noodle soup for lunch since we were waiting for the tide to go out, and we had a dessert of these crazy-intricate gummie animals on a stick. Mmmm…

Once 4pm rolled around, we went back into the park and down to the ocean floor. It’s a pretty awe-filling feeling to walk on the ocean floor. I was at the Hopewell Rocks once before when my friend Denise Cruickshank invited me to go on her family vacation to New Brunswick, but it wasn’t the same. I didn’t have the same appreciation for nature’s amazing ability to create such beautiful rock-sculptures…or her ability to work towards their complete destruction. The seaweed fascinated me too. It looked so much like plastic seaweed for a fish tank! I couldn’t get over it. I kept squishing the little air packs, to see what was in them. I’m weird, I know.

After we satisfied our curiosity on the ocean floor, Julie and I peeled out of the Hopewell Cape, destination: Grand Manan.

-Nicole

The Best the Island Has to Offer

As if PEI wasn’t cool enough, Nicole and I decided to improve the experience with a little alcoholic taste testing. This, at the request of a complete stranger.  Don’t tell the kiddies – but talking to strangers can result in some great things. For us, it was trying delicious beer. For you, it is this blog post.

You see, when searching for a place for a nice casual drink the stranger suggested that we try Gahan House, a brew pub famous for its seven unique beers. He also suggested we try the Tester Rail – a line of small glasses that provide a taste of each of the seven brews (as well as a bonus beer).

Below is a description and our verdict for each beer:

Sydney St Stout
Description: Dark, creamy and similar to a Guiness
Verdict: “Blegh”
Supporting Evidence: Too bitter, bad after-taste

The 1772 IPA
Description: Similar to your standard IPA, with a higher alcohol content
Verdict: “Hmm, tastes familiar”
Supporting Evidence: Fruity with a bit of bitterness, but it’s not overwhelming

Iron Horse Brown
Description: Brown Ale with a hint of chocolate
Verdict: “Meh”
Supporting Evidence: Unremarkable, but with a sweet caramelized after-taste/

Island Red (Julie’s Favourite)
Description: Standard Ale
Verdict: “Mmm!” and “Nice red flavour”
Supporting Evidence: Sweet at first, but mellows as the finish

Oyster White (Nicole’s Favourite)
Description: A white beer
Verdict: “Oh yeah!”
Supporting Evidence: Nice and smooth, like a better version of Ricard’s White

Harvest Gold
Description: Pale Ale
Verdict: “It’s beer…”
Supporting Evidence: Smooth but nothing special

Sir John A’s Honey Wheat Ale
Description: A honey ale
Verdict: “Uh…”
Supporting Evidence: No flavour. Tastes like water.

Bonus—Mixture of Sir John A and Horse Brown
Description: See name of mixture
Verdict: “Umm…”
Supporting Evidence: It’s alright, but by this point all beers blended together.

If ever you find yourself at Gahan House in Charlottetown, PEI, I hope you can use these meticulously detailed beer descriptions and comprehensible ratings to make the right choice for you!

-- Julie