A bridge so near

Having lived almost 60 years on an island without any easy or economical access or egress, moving to Prince Edward Island with its bridge link to mainland Canada was a huge difference. It’s not that we have gone to the mainland via the bridge often since we have lived here. It is the option to be able to do it which is a privilege Newfoundlanders do not enjoy on that island.

The bridge, located southeast of Summerside is visible from the boardwalk many days, when the weather permits.

Now, when the Northumberland Strait between the island and the mainland is ice covered, my husband and I headed to Borden Carleton, to take some close-up photos of the bridge. The scene didn’t disappoint.

It was a busy weekday morning on the bridge with transport trucks bringing goods to the island. 

Islanders rely on mainland North America for most of their needs. The sunny day without high winds meant that traffic was flowing freely, unlike days with high winds when the bridge is closed to high-sided vehicles.

The ice offshore moves east with the current, and travels under the bridge as it flows. The bridge at 12.9 km or 8 miles is the longest bridge over ice covered water on the planet. Close to the shoreline, the ice is solid, not as affected by the current as you can see here at the wharf near the bridge 

and in Bedeque Bay in Summerside.

Along the way, we stopped at the Red Bridge to see the open water which flows into the mouth of Bedeque Bay. There were a few Canada Geese, Mallards, Mergansers and Black Ducks in the area, though more of the area was frozen this year than in recent years due to the bitterly cold weather we have had.

It is noteworthy that by this time next month, clocks will have sprung ahead and this is a short month. The increasing daylight lifts my spirits. We hope that more of our walking will be outdoors as the month progresses. Spring is just on the other side of that bridge and moving this way!

P.S.

We have had two major power outages on the western end of the island in the last few weeks, the second of which continues this morning. We have a generator to use so we’ve kept the fireplace on and are warm. It feels like -20 C this morning. We will have lots of company if this continues.

For now

The grip of winter kept us closer to home this past week. We walked the boardwalk a few days but walking the neighbourhood meant we could escape to home easily if we needed too. One day, with windchill of -23 C, cold stung our faces making an escape necessary.

Not only is Bedeque Bay ice covered now, with all the the snow we had last week, it is snow covered too. In places now, one can’t discern the shoreline from the snowy, ice-covered water below. 

We attended two gymnastics competitions which our youngest granddaughter participated in last week. Her enjoyment of the sport and determination to do her best are wonderful to see. There is another competition next weekend which we will attend if weather permits.

Also recently, one of my friends from book club passed away. Another ‘bookie’ and I attended her funeral last week. Katie was an avid reader and a kind, generous, loving person. I find it hard to believe she is gone. She will be missed.

Many in Canada watched the news on Saturday about the 25% tariffs the U.S. will impose on Canadian goods entering that country. In response, Canada will impose retaliatory tariffs on goods entering Canada from the U.S. 

Our daughter sent us this photo of the golden grand-dog, Daisy, early Saturday evening.

I wrote, “Daisy looks worried.”

Our daughter responded, “She’s scared the tariffs are going to affect her number of treats.”

It is good we can chuckle about it. For now…

P.S. Monday evening we learned the tariff threat from the U.S. has been delayed a month.  Daisy can relax for a few weeks.

Winter wonder

Bedeque Bay is frozen now. In places the icy sheen resembles a rink. The temperatures in the early part of last week in the high minus teens Celsius solidified the surface of the bay for this winter. The ducks are gone from the frozen stream to the mouth of the river at the head of the bay. The windchill with those temperatures created conditions for staying home using the treadmill. Our first day out on the boardwalk again was invigorating.

In addition, this past week brought back a flood of memories. My first homeroom class, a group of Grade 9s I had during my first year teaching, is having a reunion next year. I remember them fondly.

At 21, I was working in Buchans, Newfoundland, a community in the wilderness in the island’s centre. The one road to that community was 75 kilometres from the TransCanada Highway. It wasn’t a place you happened upon whilst going elsewhere. 

Buchans was a mining town, where men mined lead, copper, zinc, gold and silver for ASARCO, an America Company. The community was self contained, with great recreation facilities, a hospital, two schools and a teacher’s hostel. The town had company housing and a hostel ensured teachers always had a place to stay.

That first class was challenging because I was new to teaching and just seven years older than they were. However, I loved science and taught it with enthusiasm, including field trips and lab work with the class work. I enjoyed the work, that class and the community.

Those students will turn 65 next year. Good grief! Where did that time go? Some have grandchildren older than mine. Some have died. However, I can still see their faces at 15, with the curiosity and enthusiasm for life nurtured in that community.

After that first year, my fiancé acquired a job teaching there. We married that summer. Housing was hard to secure in the town, so we bought a mobile home and moved it there. Our daughter was born four years later and we lived there for ten years. 

Several years ago, I wrote a blog post about Buchans. I have included it below.

Winter Wonder

It was a calm, cloudless night; the sky was black except for the stars, millions of them. New moon meant the edge of the Milky Way was obvious in the blackness of the setting.

We had taken our snowmobiles across the street from our mobile home to the huge bog surrounding our Buchans home. We were prepared to boil the kettle, or in this case the old juice can, have a cup of switchel, plain black tea, over an open fire in the countryside.

We could see the lights of Buchans in the distance as we stopped to take in the view. Within a few minutes, Rick started a fire and added tea bags to the 'kettle' which by now contained a few twigs. The tea had a taste unique to the setting. The fire added to the beauty as sparks drifted upward, drawing the eye with them. Despite the bitter cold our little spot was cozy. The only things missing were the Northern Lights. However, sitting on the snowmobile seats there, I swear we could hear the earth hum.

We did this periodically, enjoying the time of year when the daylight left so early the night felt endless. When we went snowmobiling though, the nights weren't long enough to take in the beauty of our place in the universe.

Buchans was a place where you could enjoy nature in winter because it was so easy to access. We haven't been snowmobiling in years. Winter just isn't the same.

P. S.

The photos are of Bedeque Bay, PEI, last week.

 

The alarm

This past Saturday when my husband and I did our usual walk on the boardwalk, Bedeque Bay was ice covered again. As I looked towards New Brunswick in the distance, it reminded me of a post I wrote ten years ago about another part of the country, where ice floes from along the coast of Labrador sometimes bring unwanted visitors to coastal Newfoundland. I am including it below.

I wrote the story in the Newfoundland dialect the man spoke. In Newfoundland, dialects reflect those of the original settlers who moved to an area. Dialects are more pronounced in rural areas today. I love this link to our ancestors!

The alarm

It woke the neighbourhood. Somewhere nearby a car sent its repetitive horn blasts into the quiet of the night, alarming everyone for several streets around. A rash of break-ins in the area recently meant more people installed alarm systems in their homes and cars. Periodically we wake in the early morning hours when an alarm sounds.

There was a time when an alarm was less high tech. I learned of such a system when my mother, mother-in-law and I visited L'Anse aux Meadows on the tip of the Great Northern Peninsula in Newfoundland. It was the summer tourist season; we visited the former Viking settlement, drove around the area, stopping where the road led to a small turn-about near the ocean. We were as far north as we could get on our beautiful island, in a place where it looked like a nor'easter could sweep away a little house and shed not ten metres from the water. You could see the coast of Labrador in the distance.

As we walked around, a friendly, elderly gentleman came out of the house and approached us. He asked, " 'ow ar ya taday?" 

"We're fine. How are you?" I replied.

"Alright, Mrs. Can't complain too much, ya knows. Nobody wants ta hear it anyways," he said.

"It must get really bad here in the winter, when that wind blows onshore. Have you ever had any damage?" I asked.

"Yees, moy dear. Me and da Mrs. 'ad ta leave a few toimes when da seas were warshin' o're da 'ouse. 'Ad ta use da boat one toime cos everyting were awarsh. Got da goat out o' da shed just afore 'e warshed away," he added.

"Oh my. I'm glad you got out and saved the goat too. I hope that doesn't happen very often," I said.

"Few toimes o're da years. 'Ad ta sove da goat, Mrs. Cuddna ford anudder one," he replied.

"Do you use the goat for milk?" I asked.

"Yees, Mrs. Not only dat. She's a good 'larm too, moy dear. Lits us know when a polar bear’s 'round. Kicks up some racket she do wen deres a bear comes ashore in da spring. Wen 'e gits dat toime o' year and da goat is going nuts, we knows wats 'bout. She'll woke us from a deep sleep, moy dear. Goats ar' great fer warnin' 'bout da bears, Mrs," he said.

I wonder if a goat in our shed…

Meanwhile, when we opened the car doors at the boardwalk parking lot one day last week, we could hear the tapping of a woodpecker in the woods behind the car. The little Downy Woodpecker was easy to spot as it moved among the trees. 

Another day, the ice had moved off-shore again and these Barrow’s Goldeneyes were feeding in the bay. It is always a treat to see these birds every winter on the island.

Have a great week!

Out and about, winter edition

We enjoyed a day with the golden grand-dog this past week and walked around the neighbourhood with her. 

Another day, I did time on the treadmill, which was more pleasant than usual. However, our main exercise was at the boardwalk which is by far our favourite. The physical effort and the social interaction with fellow walkers in nature are a perfect combination.

Conditions were varied last week. Always though, the sun was hidden, sometimes appearing as a ball of light behind the clouds. 

Twilight makes winter mornings unique.

One day we walked while it snowed without any wind and the birds stayed active too. Mourning Doves, 

Black Ducks 

and Tree Sparrows, 

joined the Red Squirrels 

that day along the boardwalk. Out on the bay, my husband and I could hear Black Scoters and see Mergansers, Gulls and other Black Ducks, as the snow almost obscured the lighthouse.

Along the trail, birdhouses were covered with snow, 

creating scenes for Christmas cards but a few weeks late.

Another day I called woodpecker day, since two Hairy and one Downy Woodpecker were in the same area simultaneously. This was an unusual sight. I was able to photograph all three but not in the same frame.

While Bedeque Bay is not frozen solid yet, the amount of ice in the bay depends on whether the wind is off-shore or on-shore. One day, the bay was packed with ice. The next day, wind took all the ice into the Northumberland Strait.

The ducks which frequent the salt marsh leave when the marsh freezes and return when milder conditions melt the ice.

And always, fellow walkers share greetings while some stop to chat. 

We are so fortunate to have this beautiful place where we can enjoy winter, whatever it brings.

Out in the world this week, it is difficult to comprehend the devastation of the fires in California. There are so many homes destroyed plus schools, churches, stores, businesses, everything. Lives have been lost. Climate change is well underway and so many people still don’t believe it. I fear for this planet and all who live here, especially the children.

Finally for this week, in a sad world, it can be the little things that brighten one’s day…

Every day I feed the crows, I say, “Hello,” when I open the door. Yesterday there were four crows perched on the railing and one of them made a sound of two syllables, which sounded like, “Hello,” from deep in its throat. I was the only one who heard it and I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I will attempt to record the greeting in the future. Wish me luck!

Have a wonderful week!