The border guards let us into Canada after stiff questioning.
Once here, we hatched our devious plan: eat as much lobster as we possibly can in the four days in New Brunswick and marvel at the extreme tide patterns (which I will address in a future blog post).
It wasn’t long before I determined that New Brunswick can compete with California in the craziness category. Here are some photos with captions to explain the scene (if possible).
The locals in St. Andrews encouraged us to visit one of Canada’s loveliest gardens, the Kingsbrae Gardens. The 27 acres are lush and diverse, but I thought I’d entertain you with the sculpture garden.
The answer to that question we found in Saint John, New Brunswick, a major port city still smarting from the 1812 decision to set the provincial capital inland to Fredericton, so the Americans wouldn’t attack.
We left the quaint town of St. Andrews and the iconic Algonquin Hotel for the Fundy National Park where we are now. On the way, we stopped in to Saint John (not to be confused with St. John’s, Newfoundland, which according to the locals, abbreviates Saint.)
We found Saint John to be, well, a curious place.
Ron found a local policemen to which we registered our concern about the weirdness in Saint John.
We exited Saint John in a hurry and headed to the tiny town of Alma, right on the Bay of Fundy.