One of the things that made our week so great was a good friend of MB’s who lives in PEI.  She had a car to spare and was so incredibly generous, so we were able to zip all over the island , park everywhere, and not take down the RV every time we wanted to go anywhere.

Had to laugh at some directions we received: her friend Brenda has lived in the countryside in a small province for too long.  She recommended a certain restaurant, and the directions included the sentence, “It’s right across the street from where The Blue Mussel Café used to be.”  Think about it.

Recommendations for future visitors:

North Rustico (The Little Maison’s lobster crepe and affogato crepe were both spectacular).

Victoria by the Sea (we had prosecco & seafood nibbles on the end of a pier watching the sun set).

Dining: Reel Seafood, Tyne Valley Tea Shop, Casa Mia & The Lobster Barn in Victoria

Shops: Fleurs de Liz, Bittersweet Rose, Red Sand Jewellery

And our biggest surprise?: The somewhat mundane-seeming-at-first-glance town of Summerside.  The Summerside Waterfront Café was a complete revelation; I had the best massage of my life in the Golden Lotus Spa (and Michele had the best pedicure); and although everyone thinks Cows when they think PEI ice cream – trust me, Holman’s is the place you want to go.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot – you must sign up for the Prehistoric Island Tour.  Really.  A 90-minute walking tour of the only beach in PEI that has revealed fossils of giant reptiles and 2’ long millipedes (eeh) from pre-dinosaur Permian period.  Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Just had the best week in PEI.  I have a friend in Burlington who says, “PEI is positively my most favourite place in the world”.  And now I see why. 

It seemed we were showered in a week’s worth of pixie dust, because every little town we visited, every café or restaurant we checked out, every boutique we went into was lovely.

I picked MB up at the Charlottetown airport (gotta love an airport with cheap – and more importantly, easily accessible for a big rig – parking).  My lunch at Claddagh Oyster House was delicious, but I have never been served an entire head of lettuce before.  I asked for the wedge salad (you know: blue cheese, bacon, hard boiled egg, etc) and a WHOLE head of iceberg lettuce was put in front of me. With my frugal mother’s words ringing in my ear, I ate all the most expensive ingredients and left the lettuce (did I mention it was an entire head of iceberg?) behind.

(As per usual, forgot to take pictures.  Sigh.)

Here’s a breakdown of what the summer trip is supposed to look like between July 5th & October 5th:

1. Bruce Peninsula, Manitoulin Island, Muskokas
2. Montreal CFUW Conference & tour of the Quebec South Shore
3. Saguenay and Charlevoix
4. Miramichi, Shediac, and the east coast of New Brunswick
5. Prince Edward Island
6. Cape Breton
7. Newfoundland
8. Central & Southwestern Nova Scotia
9. Halifax to Saint Andrews, then the Saint John River Valley
10. Quick bolt across southern Quebec and straight home to Milton

But that’s not what is happening.  Routes #1, #2, & #3 – all as planned, no changes there.  And I continue to tell people they need to go to Charlevoix – absolutely stunning.

But then #4 changed to the Saint John Valley (Edmunston, Fredericton, Moncton), as I couldn’t find decent campgrounds near Miramichi, and the roads across to Bathurst and south looked pretty mountainous.

#5 is still PEI, but extended at either end.  Because, you see, I’ve cancelled #7 – Newfoundland. Yup, cancelled. The whole province – not goin’.

More to come.

Yesterday I left Truro, after a wonderful stop at the Masstown Market (thank you CH) and headed to PEI. I’m not afraid of heights, I am a level-headed, practical driver who knows that if she has no problem staying within the lines on a regular road, she will have no problem staying withing the lines on any road. And yet . . .

I wish I had had one of those rings that can measure your stress level yesterday afternoon. The first spike would have been just outside Port Elgin, NB, when I first glimpsed the massive (20km long and 200 feet high (in places)) Confederation Bridge. Then the signs saying it was a toll bridge – of course it is. So I’m driving along the Trans Canada at 90kmh, with at least 15 – 20 cars and trucks behind, scrabbling in my wallet for my credit card with one hand while steering with the other, as this monstrosity looms ahead.

Then we get on the bridge, whose speed limit is 80kmh. Eighty. Single lane, either way. The barriers are 3’6″ high on either side. Yes, less than 4′. I’m driving an 11′ tall, flat-sided wind-catcher at 80kmh. (By now the stress ring would have exploded under the pressure.) I had checked the wind speeds, which were quite low. Yeah, sure, low whilst on terra firma, surrounded by trees, with hills and buildings all around, breaking the wind up.

I am quite sure I was whimpering aloud. By the time we were halfway across and the bridge had levelled out to a nice, low 130′ above sea level, I was feeling a tad better. And then I saw the last third of the bridge which, like the New Brunswick side, rises back up to its fun, daring, jaunty height of 200′ high. The whimpering returned. Finally we were nearing the end, thank God. Inexplicably, we were directed around the toll booths (so that mad, one-handed scramble at the beginning was completely unnecessary, how nice).

You know in those comedy movies, where the nervous flier gets off the plane and bends down to kiss the ground in thanks? Had I not had half of NB traffic behind me on the highway, I’m pretty sure I would have done the same thing.

Of course I made it just fine. But you know all that was going through my head on the last half of the trip? ‘Maybe I’ll take the ferry from PEI to Nova Scotia next week instead of the bridge.’

(I forgot to take a photo – yeah, right, when exactly would you have been able to do that? – but I’ll try to remember on the way back)

Steps before 9am: 6,543. Chips: none.

I bought a folding bike, then discovered that it wouldn’t fit folded into the storage compartment.  So I had a bracket installed in the back hitch and tied the fully-unfolded bike to it (so I could have just brought my own not-foldable bicycle and saved myself a chunk of change).  Then I thought it would be better to have my new bike protected, so I bought a travelling bike/rack cover and tied it on.  But the cover started flapping, so I bought more bungee cords (cordons élastiques au Québec) and tied that sucker down good.  Great – problems solved.

Yesterday, a camp staff member was capturing my info, standing at the back of my rig.  “Do you have a license plate?”  ????? Of course I have a license plate – what kind of a question is that?  Oh, wait.  Rats.  It seems I have fully obscured my rear license plate with my bike, rack, and cover.  Splendid – a traffic violation waiting to get caught.

I will figure this out in PEI. 

I’m sitting outside my RV with cup of tea and a book after a lovely morning at Five Islands and a store called That Dutchman’s Cheese Farm (yum).  It’s an interesting campground – the KOA at Truro, NS.  The staff are very friendly and helpful, the location is great – just off the Trans Canada backing onto the Debert River (where the bear was spotted), but the lots are very, very close together.  I’m here for four days and once I moved from the firs site (with the budgies) I didn’t have neighbours on either side.  Until today.

A caravan of massive Class A RVs has arrived, all pulling a Jeep or Bronco, and are squeezing into the spots all around me.  It seems they are part of Fantasy RV Tours.  I was aware of this organisation, because I use them (indirectly) to map out my itineraries (more on that later).

They’re all American, mostly from Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida.  Their rigs are very big, very posh, and very, very clean.  (note to self: must wash RV while in PEI.)  It must be relatively early into their tour as they seem to be getting to know one another.  Tomorrow is Tidal Bore Rafting – it seems the neighbour to my left is trying to talk the neighbour to my right into joining the rafting, but neighbour B is having none of it.

I’m trying to read but it ain’t easy – they do like shouting to one another instead of getting up and going over to the one another’s sites (I guess it saves steps).  They seem very nice and polite, but really, I do not need to know what Bob & Helen are cooking for dinner tonight, or that Martin & Bev’s daughter’s basement back in Boca flooded last night.

I pulled into the Truro KOA midday yesterday.  I was supposed to arrive today, but had called ahead to ask if I could check-in a day early (no, this time it wasn’t a scheduling error on my part – this change was intentional and internet-driven).  The only site they had for me for this one extra day was one of the more expensive ones – it comes with a paved patio, gas barbeque, patio table & chairs and a fire pit.

The staff at this KOA are really nice, but the campsites are very, very close together.  I did a quick set-up upon arrival while the neighbours on either side were away – they’re both in trailers that were in place, but they had clearly gone away in their cars.  As I’m moving to my regularly scheduled site this afternoon, I didn’t bother with a full hook-up – I just got comfortable on my patio with a book and some tea.

The neighbours on one side arrived back (they’re from Georgia and have the most beautiful and seemingly tranquil black standard poodle) – they seem pretty chill.  Then the neighbours on the other side arrived.  Their campsite looks more lived in, like they’ve been here for quite a while. Then I heard some noises (they are on the side where my main windows are and where I sit at my dining table).  They have a dog – okay, he’s quite whiny, and barky, but dogs will be dogs.  They are an interesting bunch – if I had to guess I would say a grandfather with a blended family – kids of different ethnicities and ages.  I counted at least 6 people?  It’s a fair-sized trailer, but 5 kids and a grown-up must be cosy in there.  Oh, and the noises?  They have budgies.  Two large cages with at least 4 or 5 (I was trying not to stare) songbirds, on little tables under the awning.  Budgies.  In an RV.  Hunh.

Here’s hoping the birds go indoors at night, and stay that way until a decent hour in the morning.  Those little beggars are noisy!

Steps before 9am: Zero (there was a bear spotted in the woods about 50’ from my site yesterday morning – no walkies for me!)

Just drove through the cutest town this morning – although, I must say, all of the towns I’ve seen in the Maritimes are very pretty: Fredericton, Amherst, Oxford. Tree-lined streets, beautiful and interesting houses, picturesque downtowns.

But what made Oxford noteworthy was their recognition of their high school’s graduating class. The two main streets were lined with banners with each graduating student’s name & photo – how cool is that?

Steps before 10am: 4,110. Chips: Zero

As you may recall, a ‘poopsie’ is an RV term for a black tank incident, and I have named a grey tank incident a ‘soupsie’.  Well it happened again.  As I was removing the very tight (good) therefore extremely stiff (not so good) sewer cap, my wrist hit the grey tank valve.

It took me a second to realise what I had done and close the valve, but in those 2-3 seconds, I, and the interior of the water & waste cabinet, were drenched in dirty dish water.  Great, just great.

Now, you would think that a tank of dish water and shower water would smell alright, wouldn’t you?  I mean, it’s just soapy water, right?  Ah – that’s where you would be wrong.  The tank had been filling up for about 4 or 5 days, the temperatures have been in the high 20s & low 30s, and I have washed dishes covered in salmon, milk, cabbage, and egg, just to name the stinkier items.  Oh my God, the stench.

I got control of the sewer outlets, dealt with the grey & black tanks, and overcame my urge to vomit.  But now what?  This dumping station is right next to a seasonal (aka long-time) RV rig, whose owner arrived just as I was wrapping things up.  How do I drain out the puddle of gunk resting in the bottom of the water & waste cabinet?  I can’t just slosh it onto the road in front of his ‘cottage’ – well at least not with him there I can’t.  ☹

I get into the RV ready to drive off, and discover that there is a definite ‘pong’ in the air inside the rig – this just keeps getting better and better.  After visiting Magnetic Hill (which brought back childhood memories of our car rolling uphill) I headed into Moncton to do some shopping.  Got back into the RV, found that it still smelled (another ☹), and saw, around the corner of the grocery store, an empty and secluded parking area with a large manhole drain in the middle of it.

I stealthily (well, as stealthy as one can be in an 11’ tall by 27’ long E-type 450 Ford RV) drove directly over the manhole, got out with a roll of industrial paper towel, a jug of clean water, and a plastic bag, and proceeded to swish the water down through the RV’s drain hole directly into the manhole.  What was left I mopped up, tied the stinky paper towel in the plastic bag, found a garbage can, and drove off into the New Brunswick countryside.  Well, after thoroughly scrubbing my hands, nails, and lower arms with both soap and disinfectant.  I know it was just dish water, but it really really was gross.

Steps before 9am: 4,852.  Potato chips: 5 (really – I measured out just 5 chips, and that’s all I ate!)

I love potato chips. My three favourite foods (not counting tea, which is not a food, but rather a necessity of life) are, in order: cheese, wine, and potato chips. I would eat potato chips every day if I could (and I almost do, sad to say). But I am determined to lose some weight on this trip, so I am seriously curtailing my potato chip consumption. ‘Seriously curtailing’ for me has meant no chips for at least 29 of the 32 days I’ve been on the road. That’s a HUGE reduction for me, and I’m quite proud of myself – honestly, it hasn’t been as hard as I had thought it would be – and no, you smart alecks, I haven’t replaced them with popcorn or peanuts (altho I did consider that). LL left on Sunday, and I actually threw away the opened bag of chips – okay I can explain why we even had those. On our last night we had prosecco with chips, creme fraiche and caviar (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, trust me). But yes, by Monday I was travelling in a chip-free RV.

Until I saw the sign. A massive billboard on the side of the highway in New Brunswick – it seems Covered Bridge’s factory was 2km ahead, just off the highway, with tours, tastings, and a shop. I love Covered Bridge – particularly their Creamy Dill Pickle – oh dear. Well I had to stop, right? It’s not like I had to buy anything, right?

I didn’t do the tour, there was a rather greedy family in front of me at the tasting table, but, what would a small purchase hurt? I simply had to buy four bags as there was a BOHO sale going on. So I only bought flavours I’d never tried before (except for the small bag of dill – I mean, come on – what is a girl to do?).

But I am going to exercise some will power – these chips must last me until the end of the trip. Uh-hunh.

Oh, BTW – last two days? Steps before breakfast: 4,102 and 3,897 respectively. Not bad.