I believe we have pitched our bigger REI half-dome tent at least thirty times over the past decade, but doing so in the dark at the Bar Harbor campground was an absolute disaster.

While Pat held a miniature flashlight in his mouth, (we couldn’t find any other light) I pulled out what I thought was the tent and the poles.  It turned out I had pulled out the fly and after we attempted to stake it down, Pat had an aha moment. “This is the fly, not the tent.  Let’s start over.” Again, I pulled out what I thought was the tent. This time it turned out the tent was upside down. Once we figured that out, our next attempt was to insert the tent posts in the correct position and we got that wrong too.  It was so late and I was contemplating sleeping in the front seat of our Subaru Crosstrek but we finally got everything together. It was a pretty funny scene- we are such flunky former Boy and Girl Scouts.

Our time in Acadia National Park was short; On Sunday we cycled three quarters of the carriage roads, took a welcome detour to Jordan Pond House to dine on popovers with butter and strawberry jam and participated in the ranger led talks about the night sky late into the evening with 500 some other visitors on Sand Beach.  When the ranger mentioned the park and the beach is open 24/7, I attempted convincing Pat that we ought to spend the following night sleeping on the beach; I never did get agreement on that idea.Turns out there was a 3 a.m. thunderstorm the next evening for which we would have been wholly unprepared.

On Tuesday morning, we packed up the soaking wet tent and headed east and then north to Prince Edward Island.  On the way, we visited Campobello in New Brunswick, the former summer home of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt.  We took a guided tour of their cottage and saw the room where Eleanor gave birth to one of their children.  It was there that we discovered Campobello, is the only international park in the world; yup – it’s a partnership between the US and Canada.

Our other quick stop was to check out New River Beach, one of the most prominent places to witness the Bay of Fundy at low tide. The tide rises and falls some 30 feet here. A French speaking couple was in the process of creating an exquiste sand sculpture and several children were partaking of the water.  As we continued north, the dark clouds around us were quite low to the ground. Pat turned to me and said “Hey, honey if you see any of those clouds start to twist, holler. “Great, I thought, we were just about to drive across the two lane nine mile bridge into PEI and there would be no way to turn back.

Thankfully, no twister touched down and we arrived in Charlottetown, once again late in the evening. On Wednesday morning, with all gear now packed in panniers, we cycled to  MacQueen’s bicycle shop and met up with our shuttle driver, Kristen, who took us to the western end of PEI.  Kristen is one of the shop’s two owners, which was started by her father years ago. She easily lifted our bicycles on the back of her Tesla and we were off; that is once Pat and I learned how to open and close the doors. As we traveled through the island to Tignish, Kristen shared some the the island’s history, her own history and stopped to give us a tour of the MacCausland Woolen Mill, family run for the past six generations.

At the Confederation trail’s zero KM marker, we readied ourselves for the day’s 30 mile ride, first sharing a tuna wrap and a cookie from the local bakery. It was a gorgeous afternoon with a bit of wind.  The trail is fairly isolated for several miles and each kilometre is marked. We cycled past fields of potatoes and wheat. Our plan is to cycle the whole trail, 170 miles.

When we entered the village of Alberton and passed by the former stone rail station, now the library, a gentlemen pointed at the gigantic sign and waved. He obviously wanted us to return and talk with him, which we welcomed doing.  He’s lived in Alberton his whole life; a bit of farming and fishing for a living. While I conversed with the librarian and a few patrons, Pat chatted with another gentleman on a mini electric bike.  He told us he retired a year ago and like his parents, had moved back to the island after spending much of his life working in Ontario. Back on our way, we cycled the last 15 miles to Mill Creek Resort, the last few on a paved road with decent shoulders. Our accomodations for the evening, in a resort next to the Mill River, was a pleasant surprise, compared to nights of sleeping on the ground. Next stop is the potato museum.

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