Whale Cove, Digby Neck, NS, Mile 3460

OK, this is how a campsite should be run. Gloria and Vaughn own the Whale Cove Campground which is really their extended garden. They have water and power and all that stuff; the sites also have plenty of space and ours looks down onto the Bay of Fundy. But what’s more important is the way they welcome you in, with big smiles and lots of chat and a little office full to bursting with shells and knick knacks. They had a sheet of paper with useful tips about the area and Gloria phoned to book us a whale watching trip. They could not have been nicer and it was half the price of the place at Parkers Cove this morning where everything was just so and neatly clipped, but somewhat sterile with all the sites crammed close together. The front office, while polite, never let you forget that this was a four star campground you know. It was like a restaurant which is so aware of its expensive menu that it forgets to ensure that you also have a good time. Come out here folks, this is what its all about.

Where did that come from? Always start a blog with a rant, that’s what I say. Anyway, onward. Overnight Philippa and I were awoken by the most astonishing thunderstorm. It sounded like Armageddon or at the very least some major rearranging of tectonic plates. At one point lightning was flashing every three seconds or so and rain was falling so heavily that I thought Harvey was in danger of being flattened. We opened the back blind to watch but the lightening was so close and so bright we were completely dazzled and closed it up again. It was at least half an hour before Thor moved his workshop somewhere else. Thankfully, before it got dark I had minutely examined the area where water came through the other night and wielded the silicone sealant with some gusto, and we were bone dry all night. Well done Harv.

By morning, Parker’s Cove was completely obscured by fog and we squelched out and off. Upper Clements, a short drive south west has an amusement park and given the fact that sightseeing was more or less impossible due to the fact that all the sites were hidden in the fog, we drove in. Tom, needless to say, was thrilled, especially by the fact that there was hardly anyone there so we could do any ride we wanted immediately and as often as we liked.

First stop then was the wooden rollercoaster, which he and I did twice, and would have done more times if I hadn’t pleaded for clemency.

We came back to it later in the day though and the three of us did it four more times on the trot. We staggered off with blurred vision and aching kidneys and Tom pleading for just one more go opleasopleasoplease.

It was a gentle, old fashioned place where nothing is too fancy and some things don’t quite work, but everyone has a good time. We bumped each other in bumper cars and bumper boats, and T and I chased each other around the lazer tag arena (we were the only players…). We had a dual treat on the waterslide where a large lady was insisting that her three kids should be allowed to go on it despite the fact that they were each about a foot short of the minimum height requirement. She was apparently oblivious to the numerous signs saying anyone not tall enough would not be allowed on, and a big, embarrassed security guard was eventually called and shepherded them all off. The lady was still arguing with him ten minutes later. While this drama was playing out we watched the log flume ride come to an sudden unplanned halt. All the water drained out and a maintenance guy climbed up to lead the occupants of one of the fake-log boats back down the water chute to ground level. Not quite the entertainment envisaged by the park perhaps, but we enjoyed it. The sun came out and the day passed in a happy haze punctuated by the background roar of the coaster, squeals of delight and fairground music.

The drive to Whale Cove took an hour or so, passing by Digby and onto the long spit of land called Digby Neck. It was a beautiful drive along a fast winding road through green landscape in the golden light and long shadows of the late afternoon.

After checking in with Gloria, Vaughn asked me all about the GMC “I have never seen one before!” I showed him around and he was bowled over, grinning from ear to ear and saying “Well look at that!” whenever I pointed out the various things that make these old boys a bit special. His accent sounds to my ear like a cross between a Norfolk accent and one from the West of England,

We fried up some delicious fresh scallops for supper and walked down to Whale Cove itself. Its a big rocky bay with a jetty at one end and a couple of houses perched on the hillside. There seemed no real way to get onto the beach, until we found a muddy track – just some flattened grass really – that led steeply down to the rocks. Some of the boulders on the beach were the size of buses and after exploring a bit we tried climbing over and between them to get back to the road, but every route we tried ended up being too steep or too precarious. With the light going we found our original path and headed wearily back to the campsite. Best part of the day Tom? “The rollercoaster”.

Categories: Magic Bus

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