Tuesday, July 9^th – Confederation Bridge onto Prince Edward Island.

We are blessed with another sunny morning. The wind blows a wee bit chill off the Straight. I walk the sandstone and slate tumulus lapped by small ocean wavelets. Twenty-foot cliffs show varying depths of the red, clay soil famous in this region. I hear some birds trying to scare me off but can’t spot them. A bit frustrating but a reminder of how awesome nature can be in the camouflage department.

Rock Strewn Beach and Cliffs at Murray Beach Provincial Park.

The wind blows steady. Our gas range outside vent-flap, flaps continuously. The Venetian blinds ‘ting’ in that Venetian blind way, familiar to anyone with windblown Venetian blinds. It’s good to have our senses. They have kept us alive for ages. In our modern age they keep us awake at night trying to figure out if the ‘tinging’ and ‘flapping’ are dangerous.  Never know, could be.

There is indeed a gas station a couple of kilometers down the road. We have our second largest fill of the trip, just over 100 liters. Windows are cleaned. Across the road a barn-like, white building houses a craft shop. Inside is a magic realm of oddities, colours and curios. There’s a blue heron painted on a lap desk, wall hangings of proverbs and cute sayings, carvings of birds and old men, dresses, skirts, shawls and scarves. Sven buys a seaside-oriented, small box of blue and white. I buy a framed photo of two blue herons knee deep in foreshore water.

We talk a little music. The elfin owner was in a blue grass band. She played a ¾ stand-up bass. She is very petite and offers that she had to stand on a small box in order to reach high enough up the neck to play the low notes. That in turn caused her back pains. The band broke up a couple of years ago when her friend the Dobro player passed away.  Her husband passed away shortly after. There seem to be more sad stories in the maritime provinces. Perhaps it has to do with brutal winters or living by the sea and holding memories of all the drownings. Perhaps folks here are more willing to share their pain. I feel for the recent widow.

We come to the Cape Jourimain Nature Centre located at the foot of Confederation Bridge. It’s modern and interesting. The area is a nature reserve noted internationally for the abundance of migrating and local birds. The exhibit hall is a delight for bird watchers of any age. We wind past brightly coloured birds captured brilliantly by taxidermists, vivid maps of dozens of local birds, each highlighted on a screen by pushing the appropriate button, and bird calls all around. Heading outside and into the sunshine we have a superb view of the bridge.  

Confederation Bridge. 

Confederation Bridge is a marvel. At nearly thirteen kilometers it’s the longest bridge over ice covered water. It took nearly four years to build and cost $1.3 billion Canadian. It takes some time to cross and gusts of wind keep buffeting The Ceilidh. She seems to like PEI and offers only a couple of surges during our run into Charlottetown. Perhaps she knows that we picked up a new fuel pump for her.

PEI is a charm. I’m struck by her picture-book beauty. The greens here are the greenest we’ve seen. I wonder if it’s because they contrast with the rich, red soil. Every turn in the road opens a new vista. The farmhouses are kept immaculately white  and sport red roofs. The barns the same. We crest a hill and see an arm of the Atlantic poking into a red-earthen valley, deeply green reeds filling the shoreline. Potatoes are sprouting in various stages in their red fields. This is a wonderland.

I book three spaces for two nights at our PEI digs, Bayside RV Campground. We’re sitting on the north side of the Island bordering Rustico Bay, down the road from Oyster Bed Bridge and not quite to Cymbria. The owner is friendly. It’s a nice campground. Tomorrow we install the pump while the others explore the Island.