Turn Around
Charlottetown captivates our hearts. It has an old core of history spanning back to pre-confederation. This is the place Canada was formed as a Nation. The streets of downtown are lined with wonderful old brick and stone buildings dating back 250 years.
In 1864, delegates from the colonies of Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the province of Canada (now Quebec & Ontario) met to discuss forming a federal union. This meeting was the precursor to the Quebec conference and eventually the British North America Act of 1867. The delegates arrived in Charlottetown the same day as a circus, so the hotels were already at capacity. The delegates ended up being housed in private homes or remaining on the ships on which they had arrived.
Two of the delegates, one from New Brunswick and the other PEI"s premier at the time, were both named John Hamilton Gray. What are the chances of that?
Surprisingly, Prince Edward Island did not join the union initially. The colony was renowned for its shipbuilding and rich fishing grounds, so they were doing well financially. Then the steam engine and steel ships put them out of work. Six years later they were facing financial ruin and joined with a promise they would receive a railway on the island.
Charlottetown now caters to lovers of Lucy Maude Montgomery's novels and tourists wanting a lobster feed. There is a lively arts community, and various small bands or individuals entertain you as you stroll or stop for a chilled glass of something. It's a lovely city for a stroll, as everything is laid back and easy going. There are homes of old shiplap siding painted in pastels and fine looking seascapes.
Changes are inevitable, but we are disappointed to discover that the museum of Confederation has been closed. We visited it in 2013 and enjoyed the live performers and animations that brought history alive as you strolled through the timeline of Canada's founding. Apparently it had been open for over 20 years and by 2016 the number of tourists had dwindled. The building is repurposed into an indoor market space for local vendors and restaurants.
We see Alan Doyle perform in a musical called "Tell Tale Harbour". Doyle is well known as both a musician, actor and writer and much loved in the Maritimes. The story of the play is contemporary about a small fishing town facing financial ruin if they can't win the contract for a potato chip factory. The chip factory will only build in a town with at least 3000 people and a town doctor. Of course, with music, humour, and a bit of flimflam the problems are resolved; there is a happy ending after a bit of reckoning.
Our last day in PEI we take a drive along the coastal towns, and walk the beach at Covehead. The sand is red, like the soil, and soft on our toes. The Atlantic feels about the same as the Pacific, when you only brave it to your ankles.
Covehead Lighthouse was the scene of a tragedy in 1851. The morning had been clear and calm so the fisherman brought their boats into the shallower water close to land in search of mackerel. The winds stopped and the boats were becalmed, their sails hung empty. Then at midnight a gale blew in, picking up strength as it went. For several days the wind and waves battered the small vessels and eventually they succumbed. The debris and the fisherman's bodies co-mingled and scattered along the shoreline. A memorial plaque on the lighthouse informs of this event. It bears no names. The seas are unforgiving and so many unnamed are left in the briny deep.
Crossing the Confederation Bridge is an amazing feeling. This 13 km bridge, which arches and curves over the Northumberland Strait, is an engineering wonder.
Prime Minister Carney bought us lunch. On August 1st the bridge toll dropped from $50 to $20. I must remember to send him a thank you note.
At this location men used to cross by boat to bring mail and supplies to Charlottetown. In winter this was a treacherous undertaking, as the straits partially froze. There could be heavy fog, cold winds, open water hidden under a layer of snow, ice that was either mushy or pleated in sharp edges. Most often everyone got out of the boat and pushed or pulled it along, chunks of ice. There are written excerpts of accounts from men who actually did this trip. They tell of a 15 foot rope that was held on to while pulling. Sometimes, a man would step into the sea and sink the length of the rope into the freezing cold dark water. If they could manage to pull themselves up, the currents could pin them against the side of the vessel and their mates weren't able to pull them into the boat. This passage continued for many years before a ferry system, then bridge, made it history.
We continue our journey into New Brunswick, passing the renowned giant lobster in Shediac.
North of Miramichi, the highway is once again edged by mixed hardwood forests. Spruce bud worms, blown in by hurricane Fiona in 2012, have left wide areas of dead Spruce. Their white skeletons stand sentinels to previous glory among new growth. The kill back from these bugs is as noticeable as the effects of the pine beetle to BC forests. These mixed woods appear healthier.
In the late 1700's and early 1800's, Acadian refugees are still trying to escape British troops and deportation and avoid the wars playing out between England and France. Several families come to the shores of Beresford where they were welcomed by the local Mi'kmaq tribes. The British continue their harassment, seeing them as squatters and refusing their rights. Even if they had drained the land, successfully farmed the area and began a peaceful life, they could be forced out at a moment's notice and deported. But they persisted, moving and rebuilding. After 40 years, they finally were given ownership rights. Many of their descendents now live in the area. We walk a boardwalk through a peaceful marsh near the small village.
North of Campbellton there is a historic site we knew nothing about. This was where 5 small French boats, bringing supplies to the belaboured settlers in 1757, were captured by the British navy. Quebec City had been taken, and the French hoped to bring vital supplies and troops to recapture the city. The small fleet tried to hide out in Chaleur Bay but the British found them and quickly overpowered them. The Machault, their guard ship, raised the white flag of surrender, then used their last keg of powder to scuttle the boat. There it sunk and rested for 200 years. It lay under 2 meters of silt and 3 meters of water. In 1967, a group of marine archeologists began the job of diving for bits and pieces. After 4 years they recovered the wooden stern and keel as well as the enormous anchor and smaller artifacts. The wood appears to be in surprisingly good condition after so long under water. This was Canada's first marine archeological exploration.
We bid farewell to the Maritimes, after realizing a dream of one more visit. We gain back an hour moving into Quebec and camp in a most beautiful lagoon formed by two long spits that almost totally encircle the water. Jacques Cartier landed here in 1537. His journal noted the lagoon's warm waters.
We are on one of the spits, across from the attractive town of Carlton- Sur- Mer We are back in the land of tall church spires, signs in French, and poutine with seafood.
This is our third visit to the Gaspé Peninsula. 52 years ago we brought our 6 and 4 years old children to the base of Perce Rock. The tide was out so we left our kids on the dunes and walked out to touch the landmark. The water was only to our ankles. Being from the Prairies, we had no idea how quickly the tide could return. Would it swoop in a foot at a time? Would we have to trudge through chest deep water and bouncing waves to return?
The tides began to turn and the fog was moving in quickly. We could hardly see the shore where we'd left our kids. I panicked and hurried back to shore. Tanya remembers that, at the time, she also worried about the incoming tide. She was wondering if she could get her little brother up the cliff before they drowned.
The second time we were here, 13 years ago, the rock was totally covered in fog. There are many days of fog at this location. This time it is smoky but visible. The wee town is overrun with tourists due to the long weekend. The air is grayish and by mid afternoon it seems like dusk. Apparently this smoke is from our Prairie fires.
Gaspe is where French Canadians believe Canada really began. Jacque Cartier also entered Gaspe in 1537, in his search for a passage to India. Here is where he planted a large wooden cross and declared the Canadian territory for France. Ironically, there were first Nations who witnessed this event, as often shown in historical paintings. But they were Iroquois, passing by hunting. They probably wondered why these strange men would stick some crossed sticks in the ground, shrugged their shoulders, and would have left it to their friends, the local Mi'Kmaq to figure out. Anyway, Cartier captured two of the Iroquois chief's sons and took them back for 'display' in France, where both died.
For many years, Gaspe was a free port, where there were no custom fees on imports. Ships from America, Britain, Italy and France all made this a destination for profitable trading. Many countries set up consulates here. The site has one of the homes that served the Italian Consul. It was rather posh for its time.
We hear some Acadian music at the refurbished historic site. A perfect ending for our visit here.
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