Saturday, July 22, 2017

O Canada

When I drove over the bridge from the beach to the mainland for the last time, it felt like I was escaping a place where I was so weighed down by sadness. All the way up the coast, I drove frantically so I could get as much distance as possible between me and the past.

At times, I felt like someone might even put out an Amber Alert on me, but it never happened. Instead, most of my friends encouraged me. Some well-meaning friends did not. Some of my motivation to keep going was about trying to prove these people wrong.  Not very high minded, but there were times on the road when it took what it took to keep moving ahead.

Traveling north on the east coast was a familiar drive, since my family had been driving to Florida since 1966. This is how my dad instilled in me a passion for road trips. 

Along the way, I experienced things, good and bad, that I never imagined. I visited friends and family along the way and never felt lonely. Instead, I felt like I needed to check into rehab for a while. 

Each time I stopped at someone’s house, we would toast to my adventure.  I stopped at a lot of houses. What I did not realize at the time was that I was saying good bye to my life on the east coast.

By the time I reached Canada, where I was determined to visit the Anne of Green Gables house on Prince Edward Island, I was ready for a little solitude. 

This is where I realized that one must be careful as to what one wishes for. I asked for a place to rest and recoup and I got one.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Fort Gaspeaux, Port Elgin, Canada

I have been on the road nearly a month and this is the first time I haven’t had to be somewhere. Late yesterday afternoon, I crossed the border into Canada from Calais, ME.  

I drove toward the northeast coast until 7pm, when thick fog rolled in. I pulled into the Clipper Ship Motel, an older place on a bluff. I could not see anything, but the owner told me that I had a beautiful view of the Bay of Fundy, and that I had to take his word for it, due to the fog and all.

When I woke this morning, I felt like I was at the top of the globe as the sun glistened across the flat water of the bay.  The shimmer was blinding; the clouds puffy and foggy. Wow. The sun sure does rise early this far east.

The past month, with all the things I had to do to get out of Florida, has been crazy. I am looking forward to the next week will be quiet, contemplative, and creative.

My body is screaming for rest, water, and nourishing food. My aches and pains feel diminished because I am finally doing something I have wanted to do for most of my life. 

Made it to the bridge Prince Edward Island, and realized that the money I was expecting to hit my bank account had not.  The bridge toll was $45.00 and I was low on gas, and fully expecting the money to hit tomorrow.

I have planted myself here for the night, and I am car camping, which actually means that I am sleeping in my car, but car-camping sounds more Pinterest-worthy.

I probably should be scared, but I am not.  I wanted to chill and write, so this is the place. I have no internet due to enormous roving charges I ran up yesterday.  This is an idyllic and remote green spot overlooking the Bay. 

I may not have any money, but I do have a bottle of water and the New York Times.  In a bit, I will take a walk out to the point. I am surrounded by tall pine trees, and purple and white lacey wildflowers. There is a cool breeze wafting through the car.

I am way far out on another edge, except this one is cooler and I chose to be here. Some people would pay tons of money for this writer’s retreat, with only gorgeous scenery as a distraction. There is no internet, booze, food, phone, or coffee. I have done a crossword puzzle and read a few long, intense magazine articles. I walked around the abandoned fort and soaked in the beauty. 








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