And yet another crystalline day to make it seem more irresistable. But too soon, it's necessary to resume the highway to navigate to the trying-harder city of Bangor, and lest we promote bad pronunciation habits by even mentioning it:
And I must say, truly friendly and curious locals; we wandered into a bank downtown seeking Canadian currency, and were offered a plethora of both arcana and essential local info. And dialed in dinner at the fairly newly-minted Sea Dog brewpub.
Our lodging was comfortable and corporate, which seemed like it worked under the circumstances, and prepared us well for the next day's journey over the border at Calais, and you may also run afoul of pronunciation if you have another famous crossing in mind, that would be CAL-is, despite this being in the vicinity of a famous Francophone Zone. Fortunately we had been forewarned by the pronunciation offered by the estimable Bangor info center locals, so we didn't have to endure humiliation.
A soft rain held sway through most of our traversal to our next stop, a fairly informal picnic ground in New Brunswick:
A little after being beset by a dog from the house in the background, we discovered a much more substantial picnic area at a falls overlook a mere couple hundred yards down the road, oh well.
And then, what a treat, after blowing through the bustle of St. Johns, the sleepy Bay of Fundy gateway of St. Martin's, to be in a garret room overlooking the bay, with an adjacent snuggery:
And a truly memorable dinner at that same lodging. The fishing boats may have been mired in the low tide mud, but we were floating in satisfaction. And looking forward to the newly-minted Bay of Fundy trail tomorrow morning.
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