Shediac, New Brunswick

We never did find that sandy path between the cottages where I vaguely recall having strolled nearly 65 years ago with my sister and parents. But the visit to Shediac, NB has proven to be both useful and pleasant. The ideal weather helps. Though we only waded in the water up to our ankles at the beach - and admittedly the water was warm enough for a more adventurous dip - we nonetheless fulfilled the essential features of this reminiscence.

We’re not likely to return. In fact the entire east coast falls into that category. It has all been acceptable but otherwise uninspiring. The food was universally good. The people whom we’ve met (staff and fellow travellers) were kind. But the frozen detail is that there is nothing here that remains to enlarge our current appetites or interests. Things change. 

Our achievement arises as much from what we didn’t do. Like many travellers we were tempted to get on our horse and ride off in all directions. Fortunately we resisted the catastrophe and settled for less activity and greater depth. There’s only so much one can accomplish in any event and it invariably proves to be the case that less frantic behaviour can be more agreeable and productive.  It is also an odd collateral of almost any adventure that the most provocative experiences were unplanned and unanticipated.