Storyline: Atlantic Canada, Take 2
Sat, June 4
Driving through NB from Campbellton to Miscou Island wasn’t as picturesque as driving through QC, but has its own beauty.
As mentioned in the previous post, we drove alongside the Matapedia River and crossed to NB over the Restigouche River bridge. The interprovincial border is at the middle of the bridge.
It is a different beauty here, marked by the harsh weather mother nature has given to this province. Low trees and shrubs, some with blossoms, were bordering the roads we took. Many of the evergreens (also shorter than we expected) were dead. We have only been to Fredericton a long time ago, staying at Delta Hotel on the river. Back then we used the fastest possible highways. In an attempt to get to side roads we discovered that they were not well-maintained and it’d take us a lot longer than we had to explore this province.
Now we are retired, we have time and we try to take the slow(er) roads wherever possible. Our first attempt last year ended with us turning back the morning we entered the province in Campbellton and madly rushing home. It was August and the campground was full.
This time we had the Restigouche River view part of the campground to ourselves.
Until a German campervan, only four days off the boat from Europe, joined us. There were many other campers but most had selected the level sites up the hill closer to the restaurant, office and facilities, but also closer to the bridge and the noise.
The water view sites are slightly sloped, so RVs staying here need leveling, which is not a problem for us as we carry leveling blocks with us. There is something very calming watching a river flow slowly; it is a different feeling from watching sea or ocean waters. It is that magic feeling of a gracefully and continuously moving life.
If it wasn’t for the lawn mower that kept running around, although there was no grass at all, I’d spent days staring at the ever-flowing waters, the clouds forming over Gaspesie on the other side and the sunset over the mountains.
There is a (mostly paved) trail by the river that we took one of the days all the way around to the park. Then we descended to the city.
There isn’t much to say of Campbellton. It is drab, small, hilly place. However, it has an interesting past. It was here where the final naval Battle of the Restigouche between the English and French for the control of North America was fought in 1760.
Nine years after the battle, a Scotsman established a fur and salted salmon business on this site. It was then sold to the first Englishman settling in the area, who brought with him eight Scottish fisherman from Aberdeen, two with their families.
The latter settled in the area and became devoted to salmon fishing. Finally in 1794 a Scotsman from Perth settled at what became Campbellton.
Back to our exploration. 
We found the only decent café “Café Europa”. Had to try it. Unfortunately, their cappuccinos, macchiatos, mochaccinos, etc. were all lattés of one sort or another. They didn’t lack the enthusiasm and willingness to please though. Once I explain the macchiato, we know they tried to make it as close as they could. A+ for friendliness and trying.
After some shopping in the local IGA, we were back to the almost empty campground.
In the reception building there is a very nice restaurant that was closed upon arrival, but opened the day after our walk. We decided to try it for lunch.
Of course, there is a drawback being so early in the season. The items from the menu we selected were not yet available. In fact, it was just our luck that these were the only two items that they couldn’t provide.
We still enjoy a great meal and the smiley server, who helped us with the menu and table selection, staying away from other people. It appeared to be a busy first lunch hour for the season. This is possibly the only decent restaurant not only in Campbellton but the QC area across the river. (We’re not talking five-star dining, but something more than burgers, sandwiches and fries one finds around). Great views, terraces and more. If only it was a bit warmer.
Our next stop – “La Vague”, a campground on Miscou Island, recommended by the Quebec couple we met at Le Bic. We called and the owner booked us the best site on the edge of the water. Spectacular views.
On the way to Miscou we had a short stop at Bathurst community centre. There was a line up for pretzels. For pretzels! I had to have one. It appeared to be a pretzel and pizza place, which explained the queue. It was mainly people waiting for their pizzas to be made. I wanted the simplest plain pretzel. They had all kinds of them, including a pretzel burger (!). No, just plain with salt please. Well, I had never had a pretzel that cost over CAD $5. But it was worth the experience. It was one of these little places that barely survived the Covid closure for 2 years. “Glad you’re back” one of the regulars told the lady at the kiosk.
Again, being early in the season we of course had the water’s edge almost to ourselves. Last night they offered us a lobster and pot to cook it in. They could provide the pot, the propane and all settings for it. Nah, too much work, we shrugged.
These days we’d rather have someone else cook it for us. So they recommended La Terasse de Steve. It is one of the only two restaurants we could identify on this small island.
We had to try it of course. It is just around the corner from the campground. We had lunch there today. As everything else in this province we’ve experienced so far it has a very basic setting.
Terraces are roughed in over sand floors, inside is like a wood-panelled shack. They don’t even have drinkable water.
But the seafood is fresh-caught from the Ocean. We shared a seafood platter that had it all – lobster, crab, oysters, scallops, clams, etc.
There was a photo of an airplane behind me that caught Alex’s attention. “What is this plane? I realise it is old, I’ve never seen such.” The waitress didn’t know. She asked Steve, the owner.
Steve gave us this story. It was a Russian plane. It was April, 1939. The plane was the first to cross the ocean aiming New York City. We didn’t ask about the starting point (assuming somewhere in Russia). Unfortunately, there was a storm and the plane was forced to land on Miscou Island. Of course, the Russian pilot didn’t know a word of French and the Acadians here didn’t know a word of Russian. But somehow the story broke, a telegram was sent to New York and the pilot was flown back to Moscow.
After lunch we drove to the lighthouse, took some photos, drove to Wilson Point for some more photos and as I write this Alex is preparing the fire. It is still so very cold here.
The Island is so small that driving time from our campground near the southern point to the lighthouse near the northern point to Wilson point midway up the Island on its east coast and back to our campground was just over an hour.
A little amusing aside. So far even when we had frost in Campbellton we’ve been warm enough not to run the heating. The lows of last night were around 7C. In the morning it was quite chilly inside. I turned up the heating, dressed well and as I sat in my front seat “study” I felt a cold draft. I looked at the side door and there was light coming through. Apparently, whoever closed it last night didn’t close it properly. The site is leveled and the heavy sliding door requires a deliberate effort to close. That explained the cold.
Sun June 5
I little more about Miscou’s past. This Island was one of the first areas explored by Jacques Cartier (1543). The first permanent settler was a Scotsman. Then a few fishermen from the Channel Islands Jersey and Guernsey settled here too. They processed codfish at the Northern tip of the island and shipped it back to Europe. Finally, the Acadians settled in the more arable lands in the island interior.
This morning we had to dump the tanks before leaving the campground and heading to Shediac. As long as we had been on the water there were no mosquitoes. But it was a totally different story once we went into the treed area where the dump station was. There were millions of them. In no time, the van was full of buzzing mossies. We finished our task.
Alex jumped back into the van, we drove off and a few minutes later pulled into the parking area of Steve’s restaurant where I tried to kill as many of the biting critters as possible. Alex observed that we’d soon accumulate enough to turn the tables and make a meal of them.
During the entire drive to Shediac we were killing mosquitoes. Thus, our otherwise enjoyable Miscou adventure ended on a buggy note.
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