On A Boat Somewhere In The Bay Of Fundy
Last night, bicycling against the wind, fighting off the evening
chill, I wondered if the crazy day was going to turn into a crazy
night. The clouds were low in the sky; rain was about to fall. I was
alone on the highway, and for good reason. Nobody wanted to be out in this weather. When I came to a roadside picnic area I stopped to check for a shelter. The picnic tables were on a rocky cliff overlooking a river gorge that opened into the Bay of Fundy. From the top of the
cliff, I could see an old fishing shanty at the bottom of the gorge.
It was built along side a small river/creek flowing into the bay. The
shanty had a partial roof. Getting down there was the problem.
I locked my bike to a tree just out of sight from the highway, and
started down the steep ravine. I got a few extra scratches and a
little dirty, but it was worth it. The shanty had a clean, dry, wooden
floor. The partial roof was enough to keep the rain off, and the
partial wall permitted me a beautiful view of the incoming surf. I was
the only resident on the small beach, and the steep, rocky cliffs
above the shanty pretty much guaranteed that I would remain the only resident. The sound and nearness of the surf transformed the day’s chaos into a heeling, peaceful, time-out. I almost expected to see
Gnomes running about; the place inspired such a feeling of magic. I
had suffered, true, but this was my reward. Sitting there, looking out
at the beautiful receding tide, I realized that I was not leaving Nova
Scotia for external reasons. Sure rain, lack of money, and dirt, all
influenced my decision to leave, but I knew that none of that could
make me say, “I can’t take it anymore. I’m quitting, giving up, going
home!” But, I was going home and there was a reason—a good reason….
Right now I’m somewhere in the Bay of Fundy sitting on a warm ferry
heading to New Brunswick. It’s raining out, but it’s nice in here. I
hope my wet jeans dry some before I have to get back on my bike.
There’s no chance, however, of that happening for my soaked feet. The coffee I’m drinking is good, just the way I like it, hot, very hot. If it weren’t for the rain, the scenery would be good, too. But even without the rain, all the aesthetics I needed right now were pencil and paper, hot coffee, and a dry place to write.