Deer Island, NB.
The first big adventure of the trip (aside from getting out here, of course) was a three-day/two-night camping excursion on Deer Island in New Brunswick. A friend of Meagan's recommended a small campground at the very end of the island, just off the coast of Maine. The spot was a three and a half hour drive from Moncton and we stopped in Saint John along the way so I could get a taste for what a "big" maritime city was like. I'm usually not a city girl but I'll admit, there was a homey feeling about the place when the fog rolled in between the buildings; it created a cozy atmosphere that I've never felt in a city before. We visited two markets, the Saint John City Market, which is inside a large old wooden building, and the 501 Market, a built-up jungle of shipping containers right on the water. Meagan insisted on getting some maple salmon jerky which I was skeptical about at first but ended up loving in a salad that evening. The markets were vibrant with vendors, colours, and nifty creations- they reminded me of the human side of commerce that we've gotten severed from with the rise of chain stores and Amazon.
After the brief city tour, we followed the highway until it dead-ended at the ocean shore. We hopped on a ferry that acted as a highway connector between the mainland and Deer island, weaving between clusters of small rock-and-fir islands. The vessel was just three lanes wide and took about twenty minutes to navigate across the water. We opted to have a standing snack picnic near the back of the boat and smiled as the salty spray splashed playfully up onto our faces. Even though we were just an hour past Saint John, it felt like we were entering a totally different part of the world. Once we hopped off the ferry, we drove another half hour down winding island roads and marveled at the confidence that the small fishing town seemed to echo. We passed bright stacks of lobster traps sitting in many of the front yards, which seemed to serve as a practical, yet artistic statement. Organized rows, tastefully placed, and easy to move when needed. Most of the homes were well-kept in the ways that mattered but none of the buildings were extravagant. There was an unspoken sureness about the way the island presented itself- it had nothing it needed to prove to the world. As we drove deeper into the island, the scenery shifted from buildings to rock cliffs and small land-locked marshy ponds. One of the big rocks had "CLASS OF 1999" spray painted on it, which must be an island tradition because we saw more of these class tags from different years on other rock ledges along the way.
As promised by its name, Deer Island Point Campground greeted us when the road ended at the far point of the island. It's home to the "old sow" whirlpool, which is a spot just off the coast where tides from different directions combine, supposedly creating the largest natural whirlpool in the world. Sadly, we never saw the big whirlpool despite parking ourselves on the shore at the time when the woman in the registration office told us it was supposed to appear. We spotted a few small whirls along the shore and guessed at where the big one might appear in the open water, should it decide to form.
Our campsite was a blend of grassy area and tree coverage and it backed onto a trail that led to the walk-in sites on other side of the shore. One of those sites was vacant on our first night, so we ate dinner on that picnic table because it overlooked the water. Meagan exercised her wizard cooking skills and whipped up a salad bowl with rice, a rainbow of fresh veggies, the salmon jerky, boiled eggs, and some kind of crafty dressing concoction. We watched the sunset at the lighthouse point (it wasn't much of a lighthouse… just a big concrete pillar with a bright red light at the top) and talked about the unique things in our lives that were occupying the front of our minds.
On Saturday morning, we drank our morning doses of caffeine at the walk-in picnic table by the water. The air was cool and the sun was bright as it bounced off the water. I painted in my sketchbook and she played around with the digital art program on her laptop (which is a super-cool touch screen flippy thing with a pen). There was a group of twenty-somethings camping on the next site over and we smiled at each other as we listened to their morning shenanigans. I swear we weren't eavesdropping… they were just loud, funny and impossible to ignore. About an hour into our morning sit, the breeze went cold. We looked across the water and saw dark grey clouds barrelling towards us, visibly dumping rain down as they sped forward. We had checked the weather forecast that morning and had already prepared our site with a tarp canopy, so we were good on that front, but our morning hobbies sprawled across the table and weren't protected at all. We scrambled to pack up our things and raced back to our site, laughing as raindrops hit our heads while we sprinted the last few feet to safety. The rain didn't last very long and the humidity afterwards created a magical fog along the coast that lasted all day. We spent the afternoon taking mosey walks along the jagged rocky shore, napping, painting/drawing, reading, cooking, and just enjoying being in each other's company.
We packed up late Sunday morning and found a hiking trail on the island before catching the ferry back. The trail was vaguely marked and only had a three-car stretch of gravel for a parking lot, so we knew it had to be a good one. Sure enough, the trail took us through mossy fern groves, breathtaking pines and firs, meadowy fields, trickling creek beds, and up a few rocky slopes. It led us to a clifftop view of the ocean, which was a vibrant teal and twinkled in the sun. The whole experience felt like a portal to yet another different world. There was even a little hikers cabin towards the start of the trail with a notebook for visitor's notes dating back to the 2010s. On the ferry home, Meagan and I chose different spaces to stand in, each taking a moment to solidify the trip in our own way. We made a quick snack stop at a coastal cliff outside Saint John where walked down a scrubby slope to a grassy spot overlooking the water. I felt a deep reverence for how the ocean's relentless waves broke against the massive rock clusters, each determined to stronghold in spite of the other. I've started bringing my Instax camera with me everywhere I go, especially when the ocean is on the itinerary, and I added a few shots of the rocks to my growing collection of east coast scenery.
The Moncton humidity hit us again as we got off the highway and started down the side road that led back to Meagan's. A sunny downpour greeted us as we pulled into her parking lot and I couldn't help but smile at the poetry of it. We had spent the weekend each working through the challenges we were facing in our own lives and by the end of the trip we both acknowledged a shift in our thinking and a different feeling about it all. The combination of bright sun and thick rain felt symbolic and I took a moment to appreciate it before heading into her apartment.
All in all, the weekend brought a long-overdue soul cleanse and served as a wonderful introduction to the East Coast. The familiarity of a well-weathered friendship, touring the markets, the ferry ride and humble fishing town, rocky ocean shorelines and lots of magical fog- I felt hugged by the Maritimes and extremely grateful for Meagan. I also developed an affinity for the relationship that the ocean has to its rocky shores; the collision of forces, one ever-changing and the other determined to hold its ground.
Next stop: Halifax!
