New Brunswick has a problem. Its licence plate slogan is too abstract, too forgettable. “Be... in this place.” Is this the place that produces one third of every French fry in the world? The place where just about everyone is bilingual? Even New Brunswickers are not sure what this place is, as they try to snag tourists passing through on their way to Prince Edward Island (licence plate slogan: “Canada’s green province”) and Nova Scotia (“Canada’s ocean playground”). On a road trip adventure with my Dad to actually be… in this place, we came across a few surprises.
For starters, live lobster is for sale at Moncton Airport for $7.99 a pound. I’ve been on chicken buses, but never lobster planes. We rent a sporty car and drive to Moncton, finding Main Street abuzz on Friday night. Young women in weather-defying mini-skirts are hunting in packs, while a rock fiddle band jigs away at a pub and people step dance in unison. I’m surprised to find just how much fun this all is, because you don’t see this kind of thing on the West Coast.
There’s enough time in the morning to visit Magnetic Hill and let our car roll uphill in neutral, before zooming off to the province’s busiest tourist attraction – the Hopewell Rocks. Here, 100 million tons of water rush into the Bay of Fundy every day, creating the world’s largest tides, and some truly weird rock formations. Walking on the ocean floor during low tide among these natural wonders is surprisingly spectacular. The Hopewell Rocks are a worthy entrant in the New Seven Wonders of Nature competition.
Nearby is the wonderfully named Cape Enrage. Not angry. Not annoyed. Enraged! On a clear day, Cape Enrage offers furious views over the bay. Today, the fog creates a moody atmosphere, daring us to jump off the 42-metre cliffs to the rocky beach below. Fortunately, that’s exactly what we can do, courtesy the Cape Enrage rappelling operation. We strap up, lock in and descend down the sheer rock face. Cape Exhilaration might be more accurate.
Crossing Fundy National Park on Route 114, we continue the scenic drive along the Saint John River, passing potato fields and too-quaint, too-charming wooden barns and houses. Mowed lawns are so massive you could relocate Wimbledon to a backyard.
We eventually arrive in Fredericton, home to the University of New Brunswick, and the provincial legislature. Naturally, we gravitate toward The Lunar Rogue Pub and its menu of 282 types of whiskies. Fortunately, liquid courage is not required to kayak the mighty Saint John River. We swing by the Aquatic Centre, get dropped off a couple miles upriver, and let the current carry us home. Or at least as far as the Beaverbrook Art Gallery, where any visitor would feel the shock and awe of Salvador Dali’s magnificent (and very, very large) Santiago El Grande.
It takes two hours to drive from Fredericton to Grand Falls, or 70 minutes if you’re running late for a wild adventure and can talk your way out of a speeding ticket. We arrive in Grand Falls to find, well, some pretty grand falls with up to 90 per cent of the volume of Niagara Falls. There’s no Maid of the Mist here, but there is an amazing zip line. Zip Zag’s Christine and Eric Ouellette have created the best view of the falls yet. We hook into the first and fastest of Zip Zag’s lines and fly 150 metres across the canyon suspended 40 metres above it. I’ve now zip lined a dozen times on three continents, and once you get over the “I’m flying” factor, it’s all about the surroundings. It doesn’t come more dramatic than Grand Falls. A sheet of fine mist, courtesy of the raging water below, refreshes in middle of the ride. Zip Zag even has a nighttime zip by spotlight.
