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New Brunswick, Canada

My best friend lives a few states away so we don’t see each other very often. Once every year, she plans a trip to see me and we usually take off somewhere for at least a day trip but sometimes a longer jaunt. In addition to putzing (I love using that word) around my beloved Mount Desert Island, this time we explored Boston and Salem, MA and then took a trip to New Brunswick, Canada. We were specifically heading for the Hopewell Rocks but I’ll write about that later.

Amy officially has a travel document now. While I was living in Vermont, she came for one of her vacation visits. I took her to Island Pond and we went to Moose Alley in New Hampshire for our “moose safari”. On the way back from there, the road meandered very closely to the borders not only of Vermont and New Hampshire, but also Canada. At that time Bestie did not have a passport. I did happen to have mine with me. We went right up to the border crossing at Beecher Falls and she starting snapping photos of the crossing station and the Canada signs and flags. Little did we know that those photos are prohibited. A border patrol officer came out to us and wanted to know exactly what we were doing. Amy was required to delete some of her images. I explained that she was visiting and had never been to Canada. I offered my passport for inspection. Being adventurous as well as an opportunistic photographer, I asked if my friend might take a few steps over the border so I could snap some shots of her under the sign and with the flag and border monument. He agreed. Then it occurred to me that without a passport, coming back into the states was potentially a problem. So my next question, which has become a joke with us, was, “But can I get her back?” He chuckled and nodded. For a few moments, Amy was an undocumented visitor to Canada.  This time she had a passport and we were off on a Canadian holiday. The two of us are both intelligent capable women on our own. Put us together and anything can happen. We took one trip where we started out thinking of ourselves as Thelma and Louise but ended up Lucy and Ethel. The nicknames stuck. I swear it’s our fate to get lost and wind up in the goofiest situations. On this journey the plan was to first go to Campobello (I’ll write about this later) and then on to Hopewell Cape. Please understand that while I love spontaneity, I am usually a planner when it comes to trips like this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I really didn’t plan anything other than our lodging reservations.  It escaped me that Campobello is actually out of the way for the trek to Hopewell Rocks. We crossed into Canada, legally this time, at Lubec, Maine.   One thing we forgot about was a difference in time zone.  We just assumed we were still on Eastern time.  Nope.  New Brunswick is in the Atlantic Time Zone which is an hour ahead of Eastern.  If it’s noon in Maine, it will be 1:00 p.m. in New Brunswick.  We explored Mulholland Point, which is just over the bridge.  It has a great view across the narrows to Lubec.  There is also a lighthouse there.  For more information about that, check here:  http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=1020  We were fortunate enough to witness three harbor seals fishing in the swift tidal currents of the narrows.  It always fascinates me just how fast a fog can roll in from seemingly nowhere.  I took a photo of the Franklin D. Memorial Bridge and minutes later there was fog.  After our tour of Campobello, we thought we were headed in the right direction but the GPS took us right to a ferry crossing. What? Wait. Huh? After some debate and pulling out maps, we realized that unless we wanted to take a ferry, we would need to cross back into Maine and take Route 1 up to Calais where we would cross over to St. Stephen. We muttered a few things about Lucy and Ethel striking again but finally made it to another border crossing station. The patrol officers usually ask random questions while checking the passports. This one asked our occupations. Naturally, I answered photographer and Amy answered Exterminator. The guard grinned slyly at which point Amy and I said, in unison, “BUGS! not people.” I was waving my hands wildly to make the point of no people. He chuckled and sent us on our way.  Along our route, we kept seeing things we thought we’d like to explore on the way back.  Time always runs out for those excursions.  We should know better by now.  As we got closer to our destination, we came upon an overlook.  Normally, it must be a great view of Fundy Bay but on that day, the scene was sun on the overlook deck and mass of trees below with some gorgeous clouds streaked and rolled across the sky before us.  We could just make out the far shoreline of the bay in the distance.  Then on to our home for the next few days.  While in New Brunswick, we explored Cape Enrage http://www.capeenrage.ca/en/  There is a lighthouse, a gallery, and a zip line, but the real reason to visit that spot is the Cape House Restaurant.  This place is a hidden gem.  It’s small.  There are very few tables but the cuisine is five star.  Our server was very informative.  She was attentive but did not hover.  Amy discovered fiddleheads during one of her spring time visits and loves them.  Typically, however, she comes too late in the season for them.  I freeze some just for her.  The season obviously lasts longer in New Brunswick because fiddleheads were offered as an appetizer and with certain entrees.  Nevertheless, Amy felt like having steak that evening.  When her plate arrived she was delighted to find her steak on a large bed of fiddleheads.  As is her nature, she shared with me.  I ordered the PEI scallops and honey gnocchi in a garlic glaze with fresh greens and a local dairy’s gouda shaved on top.  https://www.facebook.com/ArmadaleFarmDairyProducts  I normally don’t like fruit wines because they are too sweet for my taste but there was an offering of dry blueberry wine from a local winery.  http://www.watersidewinery.ca/about.php  The word dry made me ponder for a moment.  Sure, what the heck.  It was so good that I vowed we would find the winery and the dairy the next day.  I wanted some of that yumminess to take home.  Let me warn you that the dairy only takes cash and only Canadian cash.  Take lots of it because you will want to load up on their wonderful cheese.  On our journey to find the winery, we happened upon a cemetery with an unusual name.  Legend has it that First Nation people took the name from the call of the loons.  The name Ha Ha was also applied to a creek and a lake.  Naturally, the uneducated first see the arch and just burst out laughing.  It was raining off and on the day we discovered the cemetery.  Between that and the desire to visit the winery, I did not ford the puddles which were more like ponds, in order to get the best shot.  It is what it is.  You get the idea.  Somewhere else along the backroads (I wish I could pinpoint it but I just don’t remember.  Sorry), we ran across a tree with sneakers hanging from all the dead branches.  As we got closer, we were able to read the sign on the tree.  Seems the tree is a symbol for the fight against Ovarian Cancer in Canada.  To me this is more than a symbol, it’s art.  It evokes emotion.  It also changes with exposure to the elements and the addition of more walking shoes.  I love art which is fleeting, which allows interaction, and which inspires action.  What a beautiful expression of humanity on a quiet backroad.  We reached Alma as the tide was nearly all the way out.  It always seems strange to me to see boats sitting on the bottom after the tide has gone.  They seem lost, stranded, even ghostly at times.  I know the tide will come back and will lift them again but for a time they sit leaning on their sides, the way a top does when it finally halts.

Bridge old and newFDR Bridge FogMulholland PointThe NarrowsMulholland Lobster BoatoverlookOutgoing Tiderivertide is outHa Ha CemeteryWalk for Hope

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