Paradise Found

Day 29

Before we even roll out of the tent, we can see that this is going to be a beautiful day. The skies are blue with high up clouds, or singular puffy clouds only. No rain in sight. The wind has calmed down entirely. This is the day we've been waiting for: it's time to find the beach.

Most of the beaches on PEI seem to be national parks, which means they charge admission. We decided to ask around a few days ago about free beaches, and a source (who shall remain nameless) graciously gave over the location for the prized secret local beach. She said she never tells anyone about this beach, so we're feeling pretty lucky. And, we're not telling where it is.

You may have thought we were kidding about eating bologna sandwiches, but we weren't. Our little lunch for the beach consists of 2 bologna and cheese sandwiches, a bag of BBQ chips and a bottle of water. We bring towels and sun hats, and wear our swimmies under our clothes. No frills.

After a few wrong turns, we wind down a longish red dirt road, and see the cars parked along side the road that mark a good path to the beach. This reminds me very much of going to Folly Beach as a kid. Mom would park the blue station wagon on a side road, and we would hoof it to “pre-Pier” Folly. On the way back, we'd have to carry a bucket of salt water to dip our feet in before we got into the hot car.

This beach, however, comes with it's own foot dip. From the parking lot, we climb down a rickety staircase, and walk knee deep through the shallow, sun warmed salt water to what is essentially a giant sand bar. We end up walking with a man who is from Toronto and has been summering here for the past 30 years. He says this beach is only about that old. It began as a skinny sandbar, and is now a wide, grassy mile long little paradise. We walk a short path through the pale green beach grass and come out on a vast expanse of red sand and dark blue ocean. It is deserted except for about 5 families gathered in small clusters here and there. Our friend tells us that a crowded beach on PEI is one with other people on it. As usual on this island, I'm in heaven.

North Rustico

The water is really cold, colder than Lake Erie. We decide to walk the beach and wade in the water rather than swim. The beach is absent of shells except for occasional broken clams and hollow crabs. It is covered with sea weed though. Some of it looks like wide, dark green lasagna noodles, others like miles of cassette tape removed from its case. The water is clear and beautiful.

We round the corner of this “sandbar” to find that we are just a few yards across a narrow inlet to North Rustico, a fishing village founded by Acadiens escaping the deportation. It is quaint and picturesque, complete with weather-worn shake buildings, a little lighthouse, and families jumping off the wharf to swim in the sparkling water.

On the way back to our towels, we circle back around to the grassy path we walked in on. On the way there, we slide across muddy flats, slick with nearly dry seaweed, and step on millions of tiny snails in the shallow water. Sandpipers fuss at us as we walk near their nests. Ospery fly over, black loons and seagulls gather out in the water to float and cry together. Minnows erupt as we near their schools so that it looks more like wind blowing over the surface of the water than fish in motion. It's perfect.

After a little nap, and an attempt at a swim, we head to Keith's for ice cream before going back to camp. Tonight we have big, juicy cheeseburgers cooked on cast iron over hot coals with sliced salt and peppered tomatoes. These PEIers need to take a class in burger making from the Pirate, seriously.