This morning started with the best of intentions and the worst of tidal‑bore timing. We got up early, checked the schedule, even built in a coffee stop before heading to the Fundy Discovery Site. Perfect planning… in theory. In practice, the moment we arrived people were already streaming out, which is never the sign you hope for. Inside, we learned that the bore had passed minutes earlier — because the times we’d checked were for the other Fundy centre in Truro, with the almost‑identical name. A classic Fundy mix‑up.
Fortunately, the women running the centre were absolute gems. They told us the Truro bore would come through in about half an hour, and that the drive was only twenty minutes if we didn’t “dilly dally.” The road turned out to be a narrow, twisty ribbon of asphalt — perfect for slipping the truck into sport mode and letting her stretch her legs. We arrived with ten minutes to spare, joined the crowd, and waited for the spectacle.
And… well… “spectacle” might be generous. Instead of a roaring wall of water like the Severn bore, the river simply rose about ten feet over ten minutes. No wave, no surge, no drama. Just a polite, steady lift, like the river had been told to stand up straighter.
Since we were already near Truro — the gateway to the North Shore of the Minas Basin — we decided to make the most of it and head toward Five Islands Provincial Park. We’d heard there was a gorgeous walk out to cliffs with volcanic layering, so that became the new mission.
On the way, Masstown tempted us with its enormous market, and we happily surrendered. Fresh fruit, sandwiches, and enough treats to justify calling it “provisions.”
At Five Islands, we discovered that the low tide we’d been told was at 2:30 was actually at 5:30. Still, we wanted to see the beach, so down we went. In the time it took to put on shoes and grab water, the ocean retreated a full hundred yards — Fundy doing Fundy things. We walked out across a mix of warm shallows, red mud, and sand until we reached a formation called the Old Wife. The water was still too deep to get around to the striped cliffs, so we paused, chatted with a couple on the beach, then another group joined, and soon we were all swapping stories like old friends.
Twenty minutes later, the tide had dropped enough to clear the way. We rounded the headland and finally saw the cliffs — dramatic, layered, and absolutely worth the wait.
With a long drive back ahead of us, we skipped any detours, returned to the trailer, ran one last load of laundry, ate, and called it an early night. A day of misfires, surprises, and unexpected beauty — very on‑brand for Fundy.
About the Author
