June, 2023
Flowing Bay of Fundy
When we visited Cape Split on Nova Scotia’s Bay of Fundy, I wondered what all the tide fuss was about. Standing on the cliffs 60 metres (200 ft) above the Bay of Fundy, there were no massive tides to be observed. Maybe the tide was in at that time of day? Maybe it just wasn't as impressive as everybody says?
I now know that the Bay of Fundy is 275km long and shaped like a funnel. Here's where the science comes in: when the massive flow of water is pushed through a progressively narrower space, there’s nowhere for the water to go but higher and higher up the shores. Burntcoat Head is closer to the head of the bay where it’s much more narrow than the mouth of the bay where it flows into the Atlantic Ocean. The magic really comes from the precise length of the Bay of Fundy, which makes the seiche (the rhythmic movement of water in an enclosed space like an inlet) frequency perfectly match the pulse from the Atlantic Ocean tides. This, coupled with the funnel shape of the bay, makes the Bay of Fundy the home of the highest tides in the world.
Adam has always wanted to see the tides at the Bay of Fundy and Burntcoat Head is the site of the highest recorded tides in the world. Offered only seven days in the year due to the confluence of weather and tide schedules, Chef Domenic Padua’s Food Fantastique creates a truly magical dining experience on the ocean floor (yes, when the tide is out).
Our lunch course, before heading down to the ocean floor, was a delicious shore boil. Local clams, mussels and lobster were spectacular.
And there was a bit of added fun! In the middle of our circle of colourful Adirondack chairs were three buckets. No getting up to dispose of spent shells; we tossed them into the buckets throughout our lunch. Given the number of shells on the grass on one side of the trio of buckets, I’m not going to tell you where I was sitting…
Flowerpot Island is a classic rock formation shaped by tidal erosion. This island used to be attached to the mainland and its outer edge was the site of the original lighthouse build in 1858. But time and tides ultimately eroded the land bridge until the lighthouse could only be accessed by climbing up a ladder on the bank. That certainly made the job of the lighthouse keeper more difficult. The five kerosene lamps in there had to be cleaned five times a day. Dirty burning but not many choices in those days. So in 1913, they tore down the old one and built a new one on the slowly shrinking mainland.
The back side (or front, depending on your perspective) of Flowerpot Island with caves and beautiful ledges carved by master sculptor Mother Nature.
Standing at one of the outer edges of the beach at the lowest point of the tides that day. Today, the high tide measured 13m (43 ft) just shy of its official maximum height of 16m (53 ft) measured right here at Burntcoat Head. For a bit of perspective, the worldwide average tidal range is 1m (3 ft).
Enormous force is created every day here, equivalent to 8,000 trains or 25 million horses. Some efforts have been made to harness this green energy but so far, none have met the environmental muster.
Our set up for pre-dinner happy hour and post-dinner story time.
Ready for happy hour!
À table! Dinner is ready to be served with a killer view.
Our first course was local cheeses and charcuterie.
Our second course was Domenic’s version of surf ‘n turf. Amazing how they can perfectly cook a steak, lobster and scallops in a makeshift kitchen on the beach! Here, Chef Domenic is giving us a description of what’s on our plates.
He titled our dessert course “Where the Sun and Moon Meet”: local berries, lavender phyllo and Grand Marnier mascarpone cream.
This is our intimate group of 11. This was 2023’s first dinner and, being before tourist season slams the Maritimes, we had a smaller group than the typical 20. We were among a lucky 130 people to enjoy this experience this year.
After dinner we retired to the Adirondacks for storytelling with Glooscap First Nation Elder Lorraine Whitman. Holding her eagle feather, a symbol of truth, she shared the Seven Sacred Teachings, by which the Mi’kmaw have lived for thousands of years:
Love is the eagle
Respect is the buffalo
Courage is the bear
Truth is the turtle
Humility is the wolf
Wisdom is the beaver, and
Honesty is the sabe (or Sasquatch)
Lorraine is the President of the Native Women’s Association of Canada and is an advocate for the rights of Indigenous women, girls & gender-diverse people. She told us how the Mi’kmaw are a matriarchal society. As life givers, women and their wisdom are deeply respected, particularly grandmothers who hold vast experience. While decisions are made as a group, they are never made without consulting the matriarchs. Lorraine is known as Grandmother White Sea Turtle. In the Seven Sacred Teachings, the turtle is the holder of truth. It was an honour to spend the day with such an inspiring woman.
The tide is starting to creep in. It typically moves an inch/minute but can get as fast as 15km/hour! Signs on the beach tell people they should be leaving three hours before high tide. JP, who spent some of their formative years in Five Islands across the bay from here, told us that when the clam diggers clear off the beach, that’s the time for visitors to leave. No clam diggers on the beach? Don’t go down. Every year, rescue services are called in to save people who stay too long on Two Hour Rock. The Rock's claim to fame? Because of the tides, it’s only accessible by land for two hours per day.
Heading back down to the beach, while there still is one, to watch the sunset.
A hundred billion tonnes of water (that's more than the flow of all the world's freshwater rivers combined) are flowing into what is essentially a funnel, getting progressively narrower and shallower. The water has nowhere else to go but up the shore and we are about to get squeezed off the beach!
Tiny Great Village
The name of Great Village certainly doesn’t refer to its size (population 500) but what a great not-so-secret secret in rural Nova Scotia. It’s a tiny town with a big revitalization going on. Historic wooden clapboard buildings are being restored and house antique shops full of treasures. Thirty three vendors share in the growing reputation of this town as an antique hotbed. I met one fellow who I discovered shares a similar family history to mine. His great-grandfather started a soft drink business in Nova Scotia back in the 1920s after making some good money as a prospector in California during the gold rush. My great-grandfather started Bashew Brothers, a soft drink company, in Cape Town in 1899 after honing his business skills as a supplier to gold prospectors in South Africa.
Ten thousand square feet of stuff, stuffed in this historic clapboard building.
One person's trash is another's treasure
Hurricane Fiona in 2022 knocked down the steeple of the main landmark in Great Village, 1883's St James United Church. After 139 years, it's sitting in the yard of one of the antique shops. I wonder if it's for sale...
An old sign featuring the (almost) original 1980’s name of That Dutchman’s Cheese Farm in a town called Upper Economy, population 50. The original name was That Damn Dutchman. Deemed too controversial, Willem van den Hoek (the owner) changed the name to preserve his business. This sign was one step away from the minor expletive. In my opinion, they would have been better off with Damn because the series of symbols to replace that word leaves much more up to the imagination! However the end of one controversy led to another. Some people thought the series of symbols as being associated with Satanists. Some hate mail and a little touch of arson put an end to the humour. Now known simply as That Dutchman Cheese, its claim to fame is its raw milk Gouda, which we enjoyed with other treats and Dutch delicacies. We sat at a picnic table in a barn (the rain left the outdoor tables wet) and enjoyed lunch to the sounds of the various animals on the farm.
The original, controversial, sign.
I much prefer this kind of head cheese!
I can't imagine how they can concentrate on cheese making with this view out their front door.
After lunch, we came across the source of some of the lunchtime serenading…so we had a nice little chin wag.