Leaving Prince Edward Island

I’m feeling cheated, and I only have myself to blame. Our week on Prince Edward Island is over — OVER. It just started. (A week! Just a week! I should have known our pokey style of exploring would require more than a week.) There were too many miles of roads, too many farms, too many inlets, too many beaches, too many harbors. Too too many. Too too much — three-quarters of an island — more — left undiscovered.

After a morning of slow coffee and hurried packing, we are on our way to Wood Islands to catch the ferry to Caribou, Nova Scotia. We opted for lunch at Crabby’s, a true fishing shack close to the lighthouse and smack dab in the middle of Point Prim and the ferry boarding lanes. It is 11 a.m. when we pull up in front of the tiny weathered building only to discover they do not open till noon. Disappointed — and even though Michael makes fun of me — I pull out my trusty phone and type in a search for restaurants near us in my Google Maps app.

Lunch on the Way

We head to Murray River, not knowing what to expect. However, a tiny red dot on a thin black line that intersects with another thin black line assures me there is food at Murray River Corner Cafe. It is an eleven-minute drive down tree-lined back roads and punctuated with the occasional farm.

Parked in front of the small café, we are the only car in the parking lot.

“They’re closed, Charlotte.”

“Maybe they open at 11:30,” I say. The sign hanging on the entrance says closed. The sign in the window blinks a bright neon OPEN. I drag out my trusty phone one more time; this time, I use it to make a call.

“Could you please tell me what time you open today?”

“We’re open from now until 8 p.m. tonight.”

Mike orders fish and chips. I do the same.

Memories

On our ferry crossing, I think about PEI. About how it deserves more than we gave, even though we traveled a myriad back roads, the top-down on our convertible, the smell of newly turned dirt, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh raw potatoes tickling our nose. Then there were the dairy farms and canola fields…

…and lunch by the sea in Victoria, choosing a view rather than excellent restaurant reviews, being rewarded with a terrific lobster sandwich and warm, perfectly fried homemade kettle potato chips.

We nosed around harbors and lighthouses, returning to Point Prim in the sunlight, touring the lighthouse and having mussels steamed in a lemon cream tarragon sauce, at the quaint Chowder House that beckoned on that cloudy Monday — just five short days ago.

Tides out. Sometimes you just have to sit in the mud to sit by the sea…

After being blown to bits on the ferry’s top deck, I opt for an out-of-the-way space on the middle deck, where I can sit and eavesdrop and watch the sky. The sun has broken through all of those layers and layers of clouds, but only for a while.