We rose today at about 8:00 and had Honeycombs for breakfast. Then we packed up quickly, said farewell to Fundy National Park and headed out on 115 east towards Hopewell. At Hopewell, we stopped at the Provincial Park and paid $4.00 to go in. Then we walked down the steel staircase to the ocean floor, as it was at low tide. There was an impressive array of eroded rocks in the shapes of flower pots, elephants, and faces. This is an awesome experience, walking on the ocean floor. There were little clumps of seaweed with a strange jelly like pod on them. There were very few shells and we did not see any other acquatic life.

Most of us were quite hungry by this time, so we pulled into a restaurant called Gaskin’s, which had about five signs along the sides of the road advertising generous portions and delicious food. We went inside and the pretty, young waitress with long brown hair told us we could use the dining room, which was empty. (The front area had about seven or eight customers). When the waitress brought our glasses of water, she removed one at a time without realizing that she was disturbing the balance of the tray. The fifth glass fell off the tray and splashed all over me. Everyone thought this was hilarious except for the poor embarrassed waitress. Christopher ordered a cheeseburger and fries, Paul ordered fish and chips, Danielle ordered pancakes, and Helen and I ordered breakfast specials—eggs, bacon, and hash browns. The kids meals were okay, but the breakfasts were cold.

Then we proceeded on towards Moncton. It was warm but rainy. My right ankle was very sore where the new running shoes had pressed against them, and Paul had a rash from not drying off properly after swimming at the falls a few days ago. I had my running shoes on which was a mistake—my sandles were at the bottom of the truck in the back.

In Moncton, driving through cloudy, rainy weather, we turned too early on a very narrow, long bridge, and drove right into the middle of the city. I navigated us to the downtown and we stopped at a mall with a Tim’s for coffee and ear plugs. From the mall parking lot, I could see the highway and figured out from the map where we needed to go. We easily found Highway 15, which was the route we wanted to take to the Confederation Bridge. This drive was not particularly scenic or interesting: mostly scrub on both sides with lots of signs for moose. After about an hour, we arrived at the bridge. There was no toll booth as we had expected—I figured we will pay when we leave the island, by ferry or bridge. We stopped at the a large, attractive information centre on the other side for coffee and maps.

The bridge itself is remarkable but not beautiful. It is incredibly long and high, and it was strange driving over the middle of what looked like ocean on both sides.

The drive through PEI was nice, but not as spectacular as some of the scenery on the Saint John River valley, or Fundy. There were many farms and small town. Navigation was easy: 2, to 13, to 6—so we thought. Later we discovered that we had made an unnecessary detour to Charlottetown that added at least an hour to the trip. After some minor confusions, we found Cavendish Park. As with Fundy, there was a main entrance station, the staff of which did not appear to be very interested in us. Inside the park, the main station assigned us a campsite and charged us $47.00 or so for two nights. The attendant asked us if we were sure we wanted to stay two nights, as he expected some bad weather.

Our campsite was partially wooded, close in to our neighbors, near the beach and near the bathrooms. We unpacked, set up the tents, and then drove back into town for film, groceries and ice. On our way back, an older lady waved us down. Her diesel Jetta had run out of fuel and was pulled over the side. Could we help? We drove back into town to look for a gas station that sold diesel. The local Petrocan did not, but the attendant told me that an Irving gas station in Hunter’s Hills (?), about ten minutes away, did. We drove there, wondering if the lady would even wait for us. At the gas station, the taciturn attendant did offer to sell us some diesel but seemed vague about lending us a gas can, so I bought one for $6.95. We drove back to Cavendish and the lady was still there, talking to some other gentleman who must have happened by. I filled her tank with the diesel and there was some question about a special procedure to start a diesel engine and whether it would work or not. On the second try, it did work. She thanked us and gave me $10.00 for the fuel and the can. (She had offered $20.00 and I insisted we split the difference.) It turns out she is from Sarnia and is also camping in the area. She was also obviously Dutch.

Back at the campsite, we stocked the groceries and then went for a walk on the beach. A big sign warned that swimming conditions were "dangerous", so we didn’t allow the kids to go in. Paul and Christopher flew a kite for a time while I walked in the water in my bare feet. We took a few pictures with the Nikon, then went back to camp for donuts and coffee. Helen also did a load of wash. No campfires are allowed in Cavendish, so we sat around the picnic table doing our journal entries, eating twizzlers, while Paul worked on a sketch.

The area around Cavendish is disappointedly tacky and commercial. There are many souvenir shops, motels, and midways attempting to cash in on the Anne of Green Gables bonanza. It was interesting to see some tourist signs in Japanese, as the Japanese have a well-documented erotic fascination with Anne of Green Gables. Among the more bizarre incarnations was the Green Gables Golf Course, and the Matthew Country Store.

We still haven’t been able to locate a CR2 lithium battery for the Pentex pocket camera, so we are using the Nikon mainly.