Hopewell Rocks

New Brunswick has only a few places on the tourist radar. Their main claim to fame is the Hopewell Rocks. The bases of these red sandstone formations are regularly exposed by the huge Bay of Fundy tides – allowing people to walk amongst them when the ocean permits. New Brunswick has built a large infrastructure around them – interpretive centre, trails and so on. We pulled up to the gates of at 4.30 p.m. for high tide. A teenager in uniform met us at the gate.

“We close at five,” he told us. Perhaps he saw the looks exchanged between us. “You can enter here after we are closed – it is just at your own risk. It can be slippery and dangerous down by the sea and we won’t take any responsibility.”

We took our trailer down the road to Ponderosa Trailer park and set it up for the night. We hopped on our bikes and pedalled back up that painful hill. Legs aching, we reached the locked gates – and sure enough –the sign stated we were able to enter but we were being exposed to terrible danger.

“I feel like I am sneaking around where we shouldn’t,” I said to Jim as we pedalled around the wide, smooth gravel hiking paths. “It’s kind of fun.”

We arrived at the first overlook and leaned our bikes on the fence. We looked to our right. In the trees, just beyond the beach south of the park was a familiar sight.

“I don’t believe it,” Jim said. “That is our truck and camper – right there.” We had pedalled about four times longer than we needed.

We headed off on our bikes down the walking path and hit all the overlooks. We had the entire place to ourselves. The last stop was the Flower Pots – the rocks on all the postcards. The tide was going out exposing the beach. The closed sign was over the stairwell. Jim unhooked it and headed down the stairs.

Pictures taken, beach explored - it was time to go home. We pedalled back up to the information kiosk and then back down to the beach by our campsite.

“Stay on the gravel Michelle,” Jim asked as we pushed our bikes down the park’s beach. “I don’t want them to see we biked home.”
After we left the beach and the park, there was a grassy field to cross to get to our trailer. Soon we learnt that the grass was growing on a bog. After slipping, sliding and slurping through the mud we arrived back home.

“I’ll take our clothes to the Laundromat,’ Jim volunteered as we assessed the damages. “I’ll wash off the bikes when I’m down there.”

Before bed we decided on a plan for the next day. According to the brochures, the gates would open at 8 am. High tide was just before that. We would wait for the gate, drive down to the back entrance, canoe around the rocks (we hoped the tide would still be high enough) and then come back to the trailer for a late breakfast. Then we could get low tide photos.

At 7.55 we arrived at the gate. The paper note hanging there stated ‘open 9 am’.

By then the canoeing would definitely be too late. We decided to walk in – this time straight to the flowerpots. By the time we got there, the tide was already exposing their bases and the beach.

Jim quickly went to work with his camera. I found a comfy spot and just looked. After about half an hour I joined Jim down on the beach. It was 9am. We heard the staff remove the closed sign on the metal staircase. The beach was now open.

It was a privilege to be in such a beautiful place, alone in the peaceful early morning light. Jim returned to the top to take more photos but I wandered in and out of the sandstone. A pigeon flew past and landed high on the rocks. Its gentle coo echoed around me. Nothing better could have experienced by arriving by canoe.