Cape Tormentine's been left behind
"Don't get me wrong. I like Cape Tormentine and recommend the trip there. It still has loads more character than its usurper, Cape Jourimain, where the bridge begins."
I can't help but be awed by Confederation Bridge. By any standard, that's a huge bridge. On a trip to Prince Edward Island during the nineties, at the beginning of what was supposed to be a trip across Canada, I saw the bridge in mid-construction. I saw it from the ferry, which would soon be replaced.
For the ferry's staff watching that bridge being built must have been like a condemned man watching carpenters build the scaffold he'd hang from. I don't know, though, because I didn't ask anybody. In fact, I had no idea the bridge was going to be anything but good for everyone.
Before that 1996 trip even began, though, on the road from Fredericton to the ferry, the driveshaft fell off the old truck I had bought. That alone should have warned me to abandon the whole cross-Canada trip, but I had committed myself to it and there I was. It wasn't a pleasure trip and I don't think about it much anymore, however, being in Cape Tormentine again this summer it was hard not to superimpose the two trips, the one with my son over the one with Elaine. The only consistently delightful thing on that former trip was my son, Christopher, who was 11 at the time, chattered incessantly to everyone and always seemed to be happy just to be with me. He's a soldier in Edmonton, now.
This summer, on the first of two trips to Cape Tormentine with Elaine, it was the sunniest of days with the freshest of breezes. It had all the makings of a perfect day. Perfect for traveling, for taking photos, but most of all, it was perfect for being with each other. Our happiest times together are when we're driving in the car going someplace. It doesn't have to be somewhere new because we are always new and see things around us with new eyes and new memories. I wanted to go to Cape Tormentine because in my mind it was an exciting point of departure.
My very first trip there, back in 1977, I was with another young soldier, Randy LaPointe from Lorne, NB. We had hitched to the ferry from the army base and walked on with our packs on our backs and no cares in the world. It was sunny then, too. It was a good trip for both of us. The next trip was still as a young soldier but alone on my motorcycle. I remember a hostel or two, some beaches, but mostly I remember the ferry. I remember going to the front of the line because motorcycles boarded first and I remember being the first one off. There's something about watching the ramp drop and the wharf appearing and getting the signal to disembark that makes you feel like you're off on some great adventure.
Terminal Tormentine
