Hopewell Rocks

We made a day trip to the Hopewell Rocks on Wednesday. I went there as a child, and of course, I’ve seen them uncountable times as part of New Brunswick’s tourism campaigns. The drive itself was an adventure, along the coastal back roads. An original roller coaster experience, the roads curved along with the terrain with magnificent views of mud flats, salt marshes, cattle, fields dotted with Swiss hay rolls, and cute houses. It wasn’t littered with tourism stops, it really is rural New Brunswick. As we got closer, there were fewer and fewer New Brunswick license plates, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. It was surreal.

We got there as the tide was coming in, walking the fifteen minute trail down to the staging area against a flow of tourists coming back. We went down to the beach of the Hopewell Rocks, also known as the Flowerpots, along with other latecomers. My urban friend Shayo from NYC wondered about the sign warning of mudflats- but they were already covered by the incoming tide.
We walked along and took cool shots of the rocks, seaweed, and took posed photos of other visiting tourists from around the world, including a honeymooning couple from Austria. They were surprised to hear I was from New Brunswick! It did seem like the rest of the world had suddenly turned up on the beach.

Although we had already explained the unique tidal features to Shayo, she really didn’t get it until we were standing beside the huge rock monoliths and said it again. Then she exclaimed loudly and incredulously! And I must admit, (despite growing up here and taking our high tides somewhat for granted) that standing there, I could kind of see why the idea of these huge rocks being reduce to islands might seem absurd.

Gallery Hop

The courtyard of Centerbeam Place, where we drifted out from the Opera patio with our luscious desserts.

My virgin gallery hop experience was accidental. I was walking home past Trinity Galleries after working too late. It was just past dusk, and the neighbouring merchants were all closed. Trinity Galleries was full of light and people spilling out to sit on the stone steps and chat. A friend called out to me and I stopped for a moment to talk… and then I went on with them to see the rest of the shows too. Now I always go, if I can. They’re free to attend, but you can bid, and sometimes there is a food event involved too.

At the New Brunswick Museum, they were unveiling new- rather, old, Maliseet tools from recent excavations along Thorne Avenue. The area was a camping stop, convenient for portaging to avoid the Reversing Falls. They looked just like the pictures from my grade five textbook, but bigger, rougher and so much more real than it ever felt on glossy pages while sitting on red plastic chairs.

The Alexandrya Eaton show was on at Trinity Galleries. I wouldn’t call myself a flower person or a pink person, but I have always liked her work: effusive blossoms painted in lots of pink oils on large canvases.

The Peter Buckland Gallery on Prince William Street had an opening by David Strithe of intense black and white snowscape photos. Everyone was in summer clothing in these warm coloured rooms, talking about kids’ camps, boats the weather, and looking at the light and lines of snow. It was so weird, but fun too. And a nice reminder of the beauty of winter, as we’ll soon be grumbling again.

After the PBG, we went next door to the Opera Bistro where they were offering cheese or chocolate plates and wine. Of course I bee lined for the chocolate. Pear mousse was sandwiched between a dark chocolate and a milk chocolate- and it was divine. I was amazed at how good pears can be. I don’t think I’ve given them my proper attention before, or I need to give more attention to Opera.

Fog

It’s a foggy evening in Saint John. The temperature is actually19C but it feels a little cooler because of the dampness. I had to use my wipers on the drive home, and it certainly wasn’t raining. Fog droplets come in all sizes, but they all feel like a cloud is sitting on you. The trick is learning to navigate through it. I think it looks cool.

I like the fog. The geographic literature that shows up on parks signs in the region always talk about the ‘cooling system’ of the Bay of Fundy. That means fog. And it’s true. Saint John is always cooler that Moncton or Fredericton, or even Quispamsis about fifteen minutes out of the city core. Regional out-of-towners shiver and throw on a sweater. But visitors from farther away love it. I’ve seen tourists from the American South and the Middle East taking pictures of the fog because it’s such an interesting climactic experience. Visiting friends from New York excitedly exclaimed, “It’s like spring!”