At the very end of the finger of land known as Digby Neck you will find Brier Island. Just 6.5 km long and 2.5 km wide, the island is located on the Atlantic Flyway, a major migration route for seabirds and shorebirds. Everything must have flown the coup as we only saw seagulls.
Salmon graze just off the shores in sea farms. Lot’s of seagulls do swimming lessons close by.
The island is also an iconic whale-watching destination however, all the boats were fully booked and so we ate our sandwiches sitting on the grass squinting the horizon for that one in a million close shore breach under the North Point Light House over looking the Bay of Fundy. And seagulls.
On Long Island, we walked and climbed down to the cliff edge to see a narrow column of basalt balancing on it’s rock perch. They call it Balancing Rock! Funny that. Seeing a small snake walking to the thing had Claire jump twenty feet straight upwards. Me seeing the bloody thing on the way back had me do the same! Harmless they are but christ almighty, we could see Halifax from the full height catapulted upwards!
The evening spent chatting to volunteers working at the hostel fuelled the passion to fall in love with the industry. The chatting with the new arrivals just made it more romantic. As they were starting five months of travel, we were nearing the end. It was a fantastic way to both nuture and honor our inner nomadic tendancies having surrounded ourselves with reminders of our journey. Equally, by sharing our knowledge we were able to offer a gracious hand up to the newbie nomads, sparring them the same rookie mistakes we made.
Digby – a ‘glad we made the effort’ kind of stop over.