)and “oh, Halifax. Would have been nice to see the waterfront but it rained the whole time.” Regardless, we checked the long term forecast, gave each other the thumbs up and set out.
And, with the weather gods apparently on our side, we were met with brilliant sunshine all but four days. The first was our epic drive from Quebec City
to Miramichi, NB. There were parts of
that drive where it was raining buckets, other parts where it was just
spitting, and long stretches of simply eerie fog snaking through the
mountains. The only activity hindered by
the damp was ziplining over Grand Falls in Grand Falls, NB.
I was epically disappointed as this place was just amazing:
Maybe sometime we’ll have a chance to return
to NB and go for it! I think
still-getting-over-lifelong-fear-of-heights Jeff was secretly relieved he
didn’t have to cling for dear life to a slippery cable over the crashing waters
and jagged rocks. I had a dream of a
sunset dinner overlooking the Miramichi River from our hotel restaurant that
night. We brought our bags in in the
absolute pouring rain L. But, as I looked out the hotel room window
over the majestic river, I could see clear skies peeking at me from the east
and suddenly there were traces of golden light lighting the river and the
post-rain fog was dissipating as we watched.
I just about got my wish of the sunset dinner, with the added bonus of seafood
pasta featuring famous Miramichi salmon, watching Jeff drinking blueberry beer
and birds darting over the river.
The second
was our transitioning from PEI to Nova Scotia day. We ambitiously decided to drive from Cabot
Head Provincial Park on the north shore to Annapolis Royal, just west of Digby
in the NW of Nova Scotia. It was a
cloudy, foggy morning as we packed up our camping gear and set off on our
“scenic” south shore drive. You could
make out a lighthouse or two across a harbour, but mostly it was a pretty
gloomy day.
Once again, the fog changed
to an epic downpour at points, including of course when we had to run to and
from the grocery store and in and out of our cabin. The rain ceased long enough that night so I
could do a load of laundry (hijinx break?
I drove to the laundry room, saw it was coin operated, drove back to the
main office for change, put the change in the dryer instead of the washer (who
puts the dryer on the left!!!), drove back to the main office for more change,
drove back to the laundry room (got yelled at by a woman to SLOW DOWN – don’t
worry lady, my night wouldn’t have been “made” by hitting your kid with my car,
that’s in no one’s best interest), put my wash in, lost the money I’d put in
the dryer (10 minute max window? We’ll
never know), drove back to the cottage, back to the laundry room to switch the
stuff into the dryer, and back later to pick it up. I was very tired of doing laundry by that
point. Sidenote Jeff had slept for 2
hours while camping, then drove for 10 hours, so he was asleep sitting up on
the couch at 8:10 p.m., true story) but when we woke up the next morning, the
fog was heavy in the air. Uh oh. It was whale watching day. You can’t see whales in the fog!!
On Digby neck the fog seemed to
have a life and agenda of its own. One
side of the neck of land was perfectly sunny while the other was drowning in
fog.
 |
| Fog |
 |
| No fog |
Of course
where our whale boat was taking off from was insanely foggy – you could
actually feel it on your face. Jeff took
a picture of this lighthouse (see above) that was barely visible as we set off from shore. Then, suddenly, somehow , as our boat blazed
through the Bay of Fundy, we broke through the curtain of fog into the most
brilliantly sunny day I’ve ever seen.
Something about the dark, dark blue of the Atlantic ocean can make a day
seem exponentially more gorgeous than a regular sunny day spent anywhere
else. I feel so lucky we passed that
curtain of fog and broke out into the blue skies, because whale watching was
absolutely unreal! Highlights were two
humpback whales who I swear had been trained by the whale boats – rising,
diving, breaching and doing barrel rolls.
One barrel roll happened 10m from our boat. Being so close to a whale that you can smell
stinky whale breath is pretty incredibly awesome. My biggest sympathy for the whales is the way
barnacles hitch a ride on their tails and bodies – can you imagine how freaking
itchy it would be to have a barnacle attached to you at all times. No wonder the whales were slapping their huge
fins in the water as hard as they were – possibly dislodging a barnacle or two
in the process.
 |
| Barnacled Humpback |
Our third
foggy day hit us as we stretched way up into the northwest part of Nova Scotia:
the Cabot Trail. We woke up to fog and
the promise of a 90% chance of rain all day all over Cape Breton. Great.
The one day we allotted ourselves to do this beautiful scenic drive and
it’s not even going to be visible? We
crept up the highlands and found ourselves deep in the fog. Breathing it, feeling the droplets on your
cheeks, watching the collection of moisture drip off nearby lampposts – it was
foggy. We were still able to make out
hills, mountains and a few scenic peeks at the sea, but for sure the visibility
was reduced.
Then, suddenly, the gray
skies just seemed to get brighter. I
swear I could see one particularly concentrated area of bright. We pulled off
at the next lookout and there it was – the sun!
Doing its very best to break through the clouds. And it did!
By the time we got to the next stop the sky was a tumultuous mix of
clouds and fog being burned off by a gleaming yellow sun in a perfect blue
sky.
And by the afternoon, it was an
undeniably perfect sunny day that had me reaching for my sunscreen. We enjoyed the lovely weather as we made our
way along the Cabot trail and back down the highlands into the south part of
Cape Breton. It clouded over again, but
I am eternally grateful we got to see the views we did. Many of them made my list of “most beautiful
things I’ve ever seen”. It gets longer
with every trip we take. It’s a
gorgeous, wild, and often sunny world out there to explore!
A nice
metaphor for life, perhaps, that no matter how dark, gloomy or unsettled things
seem, the sun is under there somewhere, and will, in time, burn through the fog
and find you again.
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