P.E.I.
“We must be in PEI.” Jim pointed to a large farm truck loaded with potatoes – tinted with red dirt.
We had just crossed the thirteen-kilometre Confederation Bridge. From our truck we could actually look over its high cement railings and see the waters of Northumberland Straight.
“What do you think all those floats are for?” I asked. “There has to be hundreds of them.”
We found out that evening. We arrived at West Point to see the sunset. The lobster fishermen were coming back in. We were the only people on the wharf that weren’t wearing rubber boot or chest waders. The fisherman lugged the large plastic tubs up onto the dock where the buyer weighed them. From there they were quickly loaded onto cube vans for the trip to the processor. I chatted to one of the drivers.
“Oh you’re from Alberta are you?” He pointed to the catch. “This is what we have on PEI instead of cows.” He laughed at his own joke. He rummaged into one of the tubs and pulled out the biggest lobster he could find.
“That one must be pret-near legal,” a fellow worker commented with a smile as he walked past us.
Both big claws were secured by rubber bands. Even so, the legs and the feelers were waving anxiously in the air. I declined the offer to hold it.
Prince Edward Island – is an island – and thus has lots of coastline. The shore varies from gentle beaches to rugged red cliffs. The countryside is scattered with farms and small communities. To have a dot and a name on the PEI road map, a town doesn’t have to have a store, post office or even a church, but you don’t have to go far to find another town.
“ The riding-mower salesmen must make a fortune on this island,” Jim said. Most yards are without flowers or shrubs. Well-tended lawn is the landscaping of choice – and as in some other things – size really seems to matter. It’s common to see yards mown one hundred meters in each direction.
It is pumpkin season here. Compton Vegetable stand has been putting out a display each autumn for eleven years. The piles and rows or pumpkins are displayed among scarecrows with pumpkin heads.
“I started with two dolls,” the owner told me. “I’ve increased them by twenty-five each year since.”
This year the display numbered two hundred and fifty-two – including their first twenty children dolls. I asked if she did any other seasonal displays.
“Oh no,” she replied. “I only do this to sell pumpkins.”
Next day we went to Charlottetown. Amongst other things, I needed to buy some potatoes (I know –I should have got them at the pumpkin place). I went to Sobeys – a very large grocery store. We live in a trailer. I wanted four potatoes. Four. I went to the loose potato section and stood with my mouth open. Three different varieties – all stating on the bin label - ‘Product of U.S.A..’ This was a twist on the old ‘selling ice to Eskimos’. I had to buy five pounds to get local spuds. Guess what we’ll be having for supper.
Charlottetown proclaims itself ‘the birth place of Confederation,’ but no proclamation was ever signed there. It was the birth of the idea that happened in Province House in 1864. Back then it was the Maritime Provinces that were the rich ones. They were getting concerned about the potential for trouble with the U.S.A. (the more things change the more they stay the same). PEI, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick called a meeting to discuss the possibility of unifying to make a country of their own. Ontario and Quebec (yes, Quebec was there) got wind of the meeting and decided to crash the party.
“When these guys invited themselves,” our guide told us, “they did it with style. You don’t mind gate-crashers so much when they bring over 100 cases of champagne!”
An ornate plaque was erected in 1914 to honour the fiftieth anniversary of this assembly. It reads:
“Unity is strength.
In the hearts and minds of the delegates who assembled here … was born the Dominion of Canada.
Providence being their guide
They builded better than they knew.”
The economy of PEI revolves around Anne of Green Gables (tourism), potatoes and the fishery - and the fishery consists of more than fish. There is lobster, crab, mussels, and clams. We met a lady clammer when we finally took our canoe off the truck and went for a paddle. She was dressed in the fishing uniform – chest waders - and had just carried two five-gallon pails of clams from the beach to her dingy. She was standing waist deep in the water. He brother was at the beach, digging in the mud, getting more clams.
“Oh, it’s a good life,” she said as she gestured around the estuary. “I am the boss of me and I only work five or six months a year. Besides,” she added, “I make three times the money that I did when I was a secretary.”
The smell of the sea makes me hungry for seafood. Tonight we found ‘Richard’s place’ - selling only mussels and lobster. He was about to cook up a batch of lobster so he added two more to the pot for us. As we waited we chatted about the fisheries on the island. Jim told him how surprised we had been by the number of floats we had seen in the ocean.
He agreed there were a lot. “There are places where you wouldn’t have to worry about falling out of your boat – there’d always be a buoy close by to hang onto.”
Back at camp, Jim finished dismembering and cleaning the lobsters for our plates. His channel locks (multi-grips) were taken from the toolbox and placed on the table for use as shell crackers.
The wine was poured - a toast - to P.E.I.
posted by Michelle & Jim Wiebe at 2:10 p.m.
