Over the Confederation Bridge, which, despite its size, was underwhelming in that the view is pretty much just water and the bridge is just a road between two jersey walls...for 8 miles. Not impressive for the $16.50 toll.
Canada is really expensive: between all the National Park fees and up to 15 percent sales taxes we've paid, I figure I funded a gall bladder operation for a guy in Quebec and a quarter mile or so of the Cabot Trail. I know I paid for some green paint on that house in Cavendish.
We continue to see "McLobster is Back!" signs on McDonalds and we see that Wal-Mart has invaded the North Country. If Dunkin' Donuts is the franchise that ate Maine, Tim Horton's is the franchise that ate Canada. Picture a cross between Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, and McDonalds. All the Harley dudes like them, though, and a woman told us "Timmies" is where you go to get directions.
We probably should have heeded the latter instruction. We came down through the Bay of Fundy park, stopping to get wet at Hopewell Rocks, where the tide changes by 48 feet from low to high. Betsy enjoyed toying with her camera while the water broke over the rock next to me, soaking me. I know it was on purpose.
Our destination for the evening was to be St. John. Not St. John's up in Newfoundland, but a more modest one on the Bay of Fundy. They have a thing here called the "Reversing Falls" which is a waterfall that ends up going either direction because of the difference in the tides. The trouble is, St. John is basically the armpit of the Bay of Fundy. We drove for at least an hour in the darkening fog looking for one that didn't cater to longshoremen, truckers, or professional service workers of the former two. We finally had to retrace our steps out past the airport and found an "Amsterdam Inn." It's a big box with rooms, but at 9:30PM in a pea soup fog with darkening skies and a cold wife, all those high-falutin' airs about "no chain motels" go right down the sh***er like that slow duck on opening day.
Anyway, it's 1020 PM and we have a room and are waiting on our pizza so we can go to bed. Tomorrow we hope to make landfall back in Maine if customs will let us through with an empty Raspberry Cordial bottle from Cavendish. Quoddy Head light is a goal, although if the fog that's here now is prevalent down there, we may have to go further inland (Buffalo, for example). Tomorrow leaves us only five days to get home. We're almost 2,300 miles into the trip. 331 today, second longest and about 40 of that looking for a room that didn't charge by the hour. Ciao from the bay of "Fun"-dy.
Mark and Betsy
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