Grand Mannan NB Finally

Steve tells me that 10 years ago as we were driving through New Brunswick to Washington we said “We should visit Grand Mannan” and here we finally are.

The fog has been rolling in and out all day. This is what the view from the ferry from Blacks Harbour looked like as we left.
This is what we saw when we arrived in Grand Mannan, an hour and a half later.
For those of you familiar with the saga of catching ferries that this family undergoes you will not be surprised to know that we left the house 20 minutes late, had to stop to pee (me) twice, and in the last leg of the trip as we attempted to politely get to the ferry terminal, there was an old duffer in an ancient car toodling along the road like time was his to dole out. I managed to not scream any obscenities at the old bugger but it took some serious Quaker/Buddhist breathing to get me through it.

We both agreed that to miss a ferry was one thing, to miss it by 3 minutes was torture. In fact, by the rules of the ferry instructions, we should have been at the wharf 45 minutes earlier, but try achieving that with a Mannell at the wheel and a Laureen with a micro-bladder.

We arrived at the wharf, there were only half tons and cargo trucks waiting to board. We scooted up to the front of a line, we were the only car in sight and prepared to wave the ferry off. If only the trucks were left, we were out of luck. However.....there was a mini-bus of folks in wheelchairs and walkers and they were being waved on. And then us. The mini-bus plus us = a truck.

We actually missed the ferry but still caught it. I'm not sure any Mannell out there can skim it that close again ever.

We spent the afternoon at the Anchorage Provincial park on a walk. Here are a few images. The shore line is about 10 feet to the left, down a cliff. The beach was mostly rubble and the tide was out. It was most definitely not a walking beach. If we had walked in the other direction, not the pathway but the beach way, we would have found a sandy beach and clam diggers.


Our room "Sally's Attic" at Whale Cove Inn is tiny, mostly because the roof line is down around our ankles. Steve is working on getting a black eye and I've suggested he crawl instead of walk.
The fog has rolled completely in and the fog horn is honking. We are having our coffee and tea on our little deck,
admiring how the fog obliterates the view completely. We have moved from a heatwave to a cool wave and it is pleasant.

We are expecting it to rain for most of our holiday, so we are heading to indoor activities tomorrow, a museum, a whale and sea bird research station, and a doormat store. If it isn't raining too hard we will attempt a beach walk. Steve brought along his banjo and I have tons of distractions in my little bag of tricks, so we aren't too worried about bad weather. There is a fund-raiser for the local lighthouse being hosted by our proprietress tomorrow night, so it will be lobster rolls and Jello at the curling club. Yum. (for real, I like Jello)