Features

‘From Away’

On the road to remote Prince Edward Island

Grant Parsons

Photos by Grant Parsons Normally, I hate stopped traffic.

But right now, I find it enormously convenient.

That’s because I happen to be perched atop the massive Confederation Bridge in the middle of the Northumberland Strait, an 8-mile-wide waterway that separates mainland Canada from Prince Edward Island.

I’m 198 feet above the water, in the middle of one of Canada’s most impressive engineering achievements, when a flagman on a construction crew tells me to halt.

Perfect! Putting down the sidestand of the BMW 1200GS, I climb off, walk to the edge of the bridge, lean my head over and look down.

Yikes!

A view that was incredible from the seat of the motorcycle turns awe-inspiring as I stare straight down 20 stories to the water. From this vantage point, the massive, 30-foot-square bridge supports seem impossibly spindly, and the scale of this giant structure suddenly snaps into focus.

Man, is it a long way down.

To keep from getting dizzy, I look ahead, at Prince Edward Island, way over there on the horizon. A little larger than the state of Delaware, PEI is the smallest of Canada’s 13 provinces and territories. And until this bridge was completed in 1997, one of its most remote.

Back then, getting to Prince Edward Island involved a ferry ride from New Brunswick. And to this day, PEI natives have a term for those of us who visit their province, either by ferry or across the new bridge. They say we’re “from away,” meaning we weren’t born and raised on this little island in the Gulf of St. Lawrence on the far eastern end of North America.

It implies that those of us from the rest of the world are somehow different. And as I climb back aboard the Beemer, with a gusty breeze blowing 200 feet above the cold water of the North Atlantic, I certainly do feel out of my element.

The flagman ahead turns his sign from “stop” to “slow,” and I roll forward, ready to complete my journey to Prince Edward Island.

I’m a sucker for trips with an element of adventure.

And for those of us who live in the U.S., adventure can be as close as a trip to Canada. You even get to cross an international border.

My adventure starts with a boring day on the interstate from BMW’s headquarters in New Jersey to Bangor, Maine. The next morning, after picking up Maine Route 9, I arrive at the Canadian border in the town of St. Stephen.

I cross a bridge, answer a few questions from the woman in the guard hut, and in the span of 30 yards, pass from the far north to the sunny south.

Such are the powers of borders. We Americans tend to view Maine and other Canadian border states as remote, windswept outposts. To Canadians, though, these border regions are the warmest, most accommodating places around.

These differing attitudes are reflected in the amount of development near the border. On the U.S. side, there’s not much for the entire 90 miles of Maine Route 9 from Bangor. But once you cross to the Canadian side, Route 1 rapidly becomes a major thoroughfare across New Brunswick.

I stop for lunch along the waterfront in downtown St. John, a modern city on the Bay of Fundy, the waterway separating New Brunswick from Nova Scotia. The town is equal parts tourist attraction and working port, and from my sidewalk cafe, I’ve got a view of the harbor, which is packed with large, ocean-going ships.

Welcome to the maritimes.

Once out of St. John, I get off the four-lane to cruise along the bay. And as I motor along country Route 111, it starts to feel like I’ve left the real world behind. The road serves up gentle curves over rolling hills, and I remember what it’s like to turn a motorcycle after 600 miles of interstate.

By the time I reach the lighthouse on the coast at West Quaco, the shore is socked in by dense fog straight out of a horror flick. I park and walk down to the modern, automated lighthouse, where a foghorn blares about every 20 seconds. It sounds like the rocky shore is about 50 feet above the water, but it’s impossible to be certain in this soup.

Thankfully, the fog is confined to a narrow band along the shore, so when I head back inland on the road to Sussex Corner, it’s a blue-sky day. This turns into the best road I’ve seen in two days, and by the time I hook up with Trans-Canada Route 1, I’m also having so much fun that I bypass Sussex Corners’ only gas station. Oops. I wind up watching the gas gauge as much as the road for the next 45 miles to Alma, back on the Bay of Fundy.

Downtown Alma offers a couple of hotels, a gas station, a seafood market and all of two restaurants—one expensive, and the other cheap. I pass on the upscale option and discover the best fish chowder I’ve ever tasted in the working-class place across the street.

The next morning, I awake to clear skies along the water—perfect for the route I’ll be taking, which follows the shoreline along Chignecto Bay, the upper reaches of the Bay of Fundy.

The bay is famous for its extreme high and low tides (see “A Real Natural Wonder,” right), and I see plenty of evidence of that in the endless, muddy tidal flats along New Brunswick Route 915.

A detour on the road to Cape Enrage takes me to an isolated lighthouse along the rocky shore. Like most of the lighthouses along the bay, it’s not very tall, because the shoreline is a good 15 stories above the water. And that vantage point makes for a dramatic 270-degree panorama of water, sky and red-mud shoreline.

Sadly, I don’t have much time to kill, so I pull myself away and get back on the road. By the time I arrive in Hopewell Cape an hour later, the fog has rolled back in, joined by a light rain that obscures the view of massive rock spires sticking straight up out of the water in the Rocks Provincial Park.

Next stop, Canada Route 15 to Confederation Bridge, a destination that’s been on my personal “to ride” list since it was completed eight years ago.

Passing through Riverview and Moncton, I reach water and turn right, toward New Brunswick’s eastern tip, thinking of the bridge ahead.

Built over the course of five years at a cost of $1 billion Canadian, Confederation Bridge has made PEI an accessible destination. The first view, however, is a bit underwhelming. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I round a wide, freeway-like corner, and with no fanfare, the bridge just...appears...in front of me.

There are no signs, and no toll booths (you pay the $16.25 for motorcycles only when you leave the island). So I simply roll onto the bridge. My view changes, though, as the causeway quickly climbs to 140 feet above the water, offering incredible vistas.

The sightseeing opportunities are enhanced on a motorcycle, since the sides of the bridge are built fairly high to deflect wind over cars. That puts them right at a convenient level for me to peer over the side from the seat of the GS.

I get a sweeping view of the Northumberland Strait that only improves in the middle, when the span rises to nearly 200 feet over the shipping channel.

And my unplanned stop for the construction zone turns a 10-minute crossing into a sightseeing attraction.

I roll off the bridge into Borden Point, which is a major-league tourist town. But as I hook a right onto provincial Route 10, I leave the traffic behind and the trip really begins to gel. I don’t see another soul as I follow the shoreline on easy roads that thread among potato farms.

I rejoin Trans-Canada 1 briefly before looping out on PEI 19, a winding road to Fort Amherst National Historic Site. Here, I find the ruins of a structure first used by the French in the late 1700s, and by the British for years after that.

I settle on a park bench and enjoy a picnic lunch of Gatorade and peanut-butter crackers overlooking Charlottetown Harbor, with PEI’s largest city in the distance. After nearly 900 miles, it feels good to sit still and watch the world pass me by for a change.

A half-hour later, I run into the last thing I ever expected to find on Prince Edward Island—a traffic jam. Without warning, I’m bumper-to-bumpering it through the outskirts of Charlottetown, headed toward the heart of the city.

This seems impossible, since Charlottetown has only 35,000 residents, and the entire island is home to fewer than 150,000 people. But as I study the map at a particularly long stoplight, the reason becomes clear: Charlottetown is the island’s hub, and pretty much all east-west traffic gets funneled through here.

It’s also where I plan to spend the night, so I get to my hotel, dump my stuff and head out for a steaming plate of the local delicacy: mussels.

Charlottetown’s downtown is jumping, with plenty of restaurants, boutique shops and live music giving the area a festive feel that’s just right after a long day on the road.

I wind up talking roads, politics and PEI history with a local motorcyclist, who, like most of the people I meet, seems pleased and oddly flattered that I would make the effort to visit his home.

I could get used to this place.

I awake the next morning to fog outside my window, and a weather forecast that makes me laugh.

You know those little icons TV stations use for the seven-day forecast? On the local morning show, every single day features the same one: it shows the sun, a cloud and a raindrop.

Hey, if you don’t know what it’s going to do, just say so!

I take this as a sign of unpredictable weather, and don raingear for the day’s loop of PEI’s eastern half.

I encounter misty rain on the run toward aptly named East Point, the farthest eastern tip of PEI. The ride there takes me on provincial Route 2, one of the major roads on the island. But then I turn onto Route 16, where overcast skies and views of whitecaps on the Gulf of St. Lawrence lend a remote feel to the day.

Out on the end of East Point, I find, of course, a quaint lighthouse. The misty rain has stopped, but I’m beginning to wonder if any of the beacons along this shoreline don’t qualify as “fog-shrouded.”

Atmosphere—this place has it by the bucketload.

A few hours later, after passing through waterfront towns like Souris and Montague, I’m getting a feel for PEI. The trick is to stop often, and always explore the side roads heading down to the water. There’s a lot to see here, but you’ll miss most of it if you blow by on the main roads.

Stopping also usually involves another conversation with the locals, who, in my case, seem universally amazed I’ve traveled so far. I guess after being isolated from the mainland by ferry for so long, the influx of tourists is still novel.

By the time I reach the turnoff for Wood Islands, the afternoon is waning, but I’ve learned my lesson: never pass up a side-trip. So I hang a left for the spot where ferries arrive from Nova Scotia. And I’m in luck—there’s a huge transport loading up as I arrive.

I park and watch the activity for a while, seeing cars and trucks roll into the massive ship’s gaping hull. Despite the bridge, the ferry still makes regular runs over to Caribou, Nova Scotia. And it’s clear there’s still plenty of traffic taking the floating option.

Day 2 on the island dawns clear and cool—the kind of perfect, blue-sky day that makes traveling on anything but a motorcycle seem like a bad idea.

It’s a lucky break, since I’m headed for the most scenic spot around: Prince Edward Island National Park.

If the eastern peninsula is remote and rural, the park’s north coast area caters more to the tourist trade. That’s clear from the scores of campgrounds, restaurants, RV parks and goofy-golf places I find before reaching the park itself.

Once I pass through the gate, though, those commercial trappings fall away, and a narrow park road takes me along an undeveloped, unspoiled shoreline. The 10 or so miles between Woodlands and Robinsons Island is probably the best stretch of pavement on the entire island.

The park road eventually leads to a dead end at Rustico Harbor, so I backtrack to provincial Route 6, which circles the bay to connect with park again.

Eventually, I arrive in Cavindish, and if you have a daughter of reading age, it’s a fair bet that she’s familiar with the town—or at least a fictionalized version of it known as “Avonlea.”

It’s the place that author Lucy Maud Montgomery chose as the setting for the incredibly popular “Anne of Green Gables” series of books. (Never heard of ’em? Ask your wife; she has.)

In fact, you can see the very house that was the model for the green-gabled home in the books. All you have to do is pull into the parking lot, pay $6 Canadian, and stroll the Green Gables grounds, which, in a case of life imitating art imitating life, have been carefully reconstructed to resemble Anne’s home in the books.

It’s pretty quaint, but I’m not sure that Anne had an 18-hole golf course a stone’s throw from her back door.

By early afternoon, I roll into Summerside, the second-largest city on the island. Looking at my map and my watch, I do a little figuring: Let’s see, if I make straight for North Cape, the northernmost point of PEI, I could be there by 3 p.m., and back here by maybe 5.

Hmm. It doesn’t get dark until, what? 8? Plenty of time!

I eat up miles on PEI Route 2 to Tignish, gas up, toss a snack in my saddlebags, then roll up to North Cape. I’m expecting the customary lighthouse, but as I round the last corner, I discover an unexpected addition—dozens of massive wind turbines.

As it turns out, North Cape is one of the windiest spots in Canada, which makes this a perfect place to produce some energy.

On this beautiful afternoon, only a light breeze is blowing, and the huge windmills turn lazily. But a local assures me they usually spin like mad, producing 3 percent of the island’s electricity.

I eat my late lunch on a rock overlooking the water, enjoying the fact that I’ve traversed the entire province, from East End to North Cape.

I wind up back in Summerside right on schedule, knowing that I’m barely 30 minutes from the Confederation Bridge if I take the most direct route. But I’m not quite ready to leave.

Instead, I spend time exploring more side roads as the sun dips lower in the sky. And by sheer luck, I wind up on a gravel road that ends among some houses with a picture-perfect view of Northumberland Strait, and the Confederation Bridge stretching off to the horizon.

For one last time, I put down my sidestand on PEI and admire the sunset.

I’m a little reluctant to leave. PEI, I’ve discovered, is a unique place, with a feel all its own. It’s like an entire country, shrunk down. And you sense that the locals are here because they want to be, not because they’re stuck here.

I remember that tolls on the Confederation Bridge are only collected southbound. And it strikes me that if I just stay here forever, I could save myself the $16.25 motorcycle fare for leaving.

For a minute, I actually ponder what that would be like. But then I remember: I’m “from away.”

Reluctantly, I climb aboard the BMW and fire it up.

A Real Natural Wonder

The Bay of Fundy, which separates New Brunswick from Nova Scotia, is famous the world over for its tides.

With good reason.

Due to the unique geography of the land, the difference between high and low tide can be as much as 45 feet—that’s four and a half stories!

With the tides separated by just 12 hours or so, that means the waters near the coast are always on the move. In fact, at many stream crossings near the shore, you can see water rushing inward in the morning and reversing to flow just as quickly back out at night. And if you time a lunch or dinner stop just right at a harborside restaurant, you can actually watch the water level change while you eat.

The tides here can be so extreme that fishermen have to take special precautions with their boats. They’re anchored in precise locations so that they come to rest on special trusses when the retreating tide leaves the harbors bone dry.

7 Things You Need to Know When Traveling in Canada

Since the AMA is based in Ohio, I tend to get a fair number of chances to go riding in nearby Canada. Here’s what you need to know if you plan to travel there.

The exchange rate between Canadian and U.S. dollars has long been in our favor. At presstime, 81 cents U.S. would buy you a Canadian dollar.

It’s good to have some Canadian cash in your pocket when you cross the border, but changing a lot of money in your local airport beforehand is often a bad idea. You’ll usually get the best exchange rate using your ATM card at a big-name Canadian bank once you’re in-country.

Make sure your paperwork is in order (see “Borderline,” page 10). That includes your license and vehicle registration. You’ll also want something called a “Canadian non-resident insurance card.” Your insurance agent knows what it is and can give you one before you leave.

Getting back into the U.S. is more difficult than it used to be. Technically, at presstime, you can still cross the border with just a birth certificate, but having a valid U.S. passport is better. Starting in 2008, a passport will be required.

Distances are measured in kilometers, and speed limits are in kilometers per hour—100 kph equals 62 mph. Just look for the inner ring of smaller numbers on many speedometers, or, if you have a digital speedo, check your manual to see if you can temporarily switch it to read in kph.

Gas costs more in Canada—sometimes a lot more. Plan and budget accordingly.

The average Canadian knows more about the U.S. than most Americans know about Canada. As when you travel anywhere, you’ll get the respect of the locals if you don’t act like a know-it-all.

If you go…

Thinking of checking out Prince Edward Island for yourself? Here are a few things worth knowing.

• The quickest way to get to the island is via the Confederation Bridge, which links Cape Tormantine in eastern New Brunswick to Borden, PEI, and costs $16.25 Canadian round trip for motorcycles ($40.50 for cars). The entire toll is collected when traveling from the island to the mainland. (Info: www.
confederationbridge.com)

• The other way is via ferry service between Caribou, Nova Scotia, and Woods Islands, PEI. Tickets are only available as a round-trip, and run $35 Canadian for motorcycles ($55 for cars). There are no reservations for the ferry. You simply arrive, buy a ticket and wait in line. Thanks to the bridge, the waits usually aren’t that bad. (Info: www.peiferry.com.)

• You can come across the bridge northbound for free, and leave the island by ferry, and it only costs the price of the ferry. Go the other way, and you’ll pay for each crossing.

• The two biggest cities on the island are Charlottetown and Summerside. They have plenty of hotels that tend to cost more than you’d expect, but a thriving tourist trade keeps lots of small B&Bs in business all over the island. Campgrounds are everywhere. (Tourist info: www.gov.pe.
ca/visitorsguide)

• Weather can be highly variable. Be prepared for anything, and make sure you’ve got a good rainsuit.

“It doesn’t matter if you were born on the bridge coming over,” one local tells me. “If you’re not from Prince Edward Island, you’re ‘from away.’ ”

If there’s a nice view of the water, chances are good that there’s a lighthouse there.

This is an everyday occurence on the Bay of Fundy.

Occasional fog on the coasts makes periods of sunshine all the more welcome.

Anne of Green Gables lived here. Sort of.

Plenty of dirt roads on PEI make an adventure-tourer the vehicle of choice.

The other way is via ferry service between Caribou, Nova Scotia, and Woods Islands, PEI.