Bill & Ed's Excellent Adventure...Day 12...Sunday, June 26, 2011...Fundy National Park

It's been nice to sleep in a real bed...and I take another shower this morning...nic!
By 10:00AM, Ed and I are out of the cabin and over to Fundy National Park. We get a great site that has both water and electricity. Once we set up camp, we head out for a drive along the coast.
Cape Enrage is a beautiful bluff on the Bay of Fundy...great views. Then on to Hopewell Rocks where, at low tide, you can walk on the floor of the ocean...we don't linger today because we'll be back tomorrow to hike.
Heading back to camp, we stop in Alma for a cocktail at the Parkland Village Inn...a friendly spot with Stella on tap. It's a chance to talk with a few of the locals (nice people) as well as the owners (who spend their winters in Clearwater, Fl). On the way out of Alma, I'm making my obligatory stop at Butland's Lobster Pond for a 2 1/2 pounder.
A few Margaritas later, my lobster is boiling away and Ed is heating up the leftover chili...all of which we wash down with a bottle of Elk Cove Pinot Gris.
All in all...a good day.


Ed's Sidebar, Day 11:

Flurries last night?!
It's nearly July.
Go north, young man, said someone
because New Brunswick awaits the hardy
with its rivers of gold, palm trees, cardamom, peppers.

In deep woods I wake to thunder, to lightning and rain. That pounding on the roof is not chipmunks after all. It is...five a.m. At last the storm slackens. One bird still sings on the far branch. I can hear it.

There is a porcupine roadkill on scenic Coastal Route 1. No vultures yet, but then it is raining like a Flanders November. As we drive, the raindrops rush up our windshield's slope, twisting, wriggling, disappearing into the crossfire of automatic wipers.

The headless clouds of revolution lie all around us, thick as fog. There are no aristocrats left in this land of New Brunswick.

When Customs officials emptied our car at the St. Stephen crossing into Canada, it was as if someone said 'bless you!', but nobody sneezed.

You've heard of a frozen TV dinner, said Bill, well we're having dinner with a frozen TV...That is to say our cabin's satellite TV image is dead-stone pixilated in stormy Alma; but, with clouds scudding the ridges above Chignecto Bay, and a horse shivering in his corral outside the window, we will eat lobster and chili in a fruitless gesture to unite cultures, the sea-spider and the steer.