We saved the Bay of Fundy to do on the way back west. We didn’t want to have “nothing to do” and just be headed home once we turned our noses to the west. We want to feel like tourists for the entire trip.
What a phenomenal piece of creativity by God the Hopewell Rocks are. The level of water that moves through the bay is amazing. I believe it raises 47 feet in 6 hours and 13 minutes. This is not some little river channel, we’re talkin’ wide ocean bay a few kilometers wide. That’s a lot of water.
Walking on the floor of the bay at low tide was very cool. For some reason I was expecting flat mud and seaweed but in fact it is very uneven, huge rocks and covered in barnacles. Barbee reminded us of what the Children of Israel experienced walking across the parted Red Sea.
I was walking towards the water’s edge taking pictures of the boys standing on a rock playing chicken with the tide water. I’d like to say I tripped in slimy seaweed, but the fact is I just didn’t pick up my feet higher than the rock ledge in front of me and down I went! Hard. I smashed my knee into a rock, my hands flew out to crash against the barnacles, which may as well been razor blades. My camera hit the rocks with a sickening thud and I immediately envisioned another trip to an electronics store. My D-sized airbags are the only thing that saved my face from scraping across the barnacle covered rocks like a block of cheese on a grater.
I was in pain. Great pain. None more-so than my wounded pride. And once again Jimmy is standing there with a camera in hand, looking the other way, missing the perfect photo-op.
The best part was that I didn’t have to feel guilty for not hiking but rather catching a shuttle ride back up the long hill. True friend that she is, Barbee accompanied me.
What a phenomenal piece of creativity by God the Hopewell Rocks are. The level of water that moves through the bay is amazing. I believe it raises 47 feet in 6 hours and 13 minutes. This is not some little river channel, we’re talkin’ wide ocean bay a few kilometers wide. That’s a lot of water.
Walking on the floor of the bay at low tide was very cool. For some reason I was expecting flat mud and seaweed but in fact it is very uneven, huge rocks and covered in barnacles. Barbee reminded us of what the Children of Israel experienced walking across the parted Red Sea.
I was walking towards the water’s edge taking pictures of the boys standing on a rock playing chicken with the tide water. I’d like to say I tripped in slimy seaweed, but the fact is I just didn’t pick up my feet higher than the rock ledge in front of me and down I went! Hard. I smashed my knee into a rock, my hands flew out to crash against the barnacles, which may as well been razor blades. My camera hit the rocks with a sickening thud and I immediately envisioned another trip to an electronics store. My D-sized airbags are the only thing that saved my face from scraping across the barnacle covered rocks like a block of cheese on a grater.
I was in pain. Great pain. None more-so than my wounded pride. And once again Jimmy is standing there with a camera in hand, looking the other way, missing the perfect photo-op.
The best part was that I didn’t have to feel guilty for not hiking but rather catching a shuttle ride back up the long hill. True friend that she is, Barbee accompanied me.
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