Note:
This is a repost of the FULL POST broken out by attractions and provinces. If you’re looking for a quick and dirty summary guide with cost breakdowns, click HERE to get in and out with the golden nuggets.
Stop 7: Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
Drive Time: ~2 hours. At last, we arrived at the first East Coast destination around golden hour on day 3. I was excited as I frantically looked out the left and right windows, not wanting to miss a single ocean view as Ben drove us across the uncovered Confederation Bridge that led us to the heart of PEI.
We’ve been lucky with the weather in the past three days, but as we arrived in PEI, the sky was partially covered with gray clouds threatening rain. However, it did not take away the beauty of the scenic drive towards Charlottetown.
Sometimes, the setting sun still peeked through the clouds, casting a golden patched sun ray onto the valley of farmlands, forming a chess board composed of golden and shadowy fields. The experience was beautiful, majestic, and filled with awe and anticipation. For once, we got to the Airbnb before dark.
Surprise, surprise, I booked another Airbnb that is a 10-minute walk to the downtown core of Charlottetown.
After checking out the premise of where we’d be staying, we hunted for something yummy to fill our tummies. By then, the rain began, but our mood of celebration for the official start of the East Coast journey did not deter; we decided to go ~a little fancy~.
Recommended by a friend who frequents PEI, and only a 5-minute walk, we gladly found ourselves on the covered patio of Slaymaker & Nichols Gastro House, listening to the rain pitter-patter on the tin roof, watching dusk dim into nightfall around us and our happy faces warmly lit by the soft flames of a nearby heater.
Friendly Tip:
The Gastro House was quite crowded! We got lucky with the seating. I’d recommend making a reservation if you are dying to try this place out during dinner.
At the beginning of the trip, we silently agreed upon the following: Ben would feed Bobby, our compact SUV, and in turn, I’d feed the humans, aka us. For this particular meal, while divine, I must highlight we ate two days’ worth of gas money (around 181.3¢/L) because I forgot Ben’s high enthusiasm for alcohol, a miscalculation on my part and a sad glimpse of the upcoming week for my wallet :’)
Nevertheless, my inner cries were quickly interrupted as we strolled into Chartlottown’s downtown. Soon enough, fascination overrode my frugal drive.
Across the street, right next to each other, a cluster of independently owned used bookstores stood next to each other: The Book Emporium, The Bookman, and The Comic Hunter were all still open at 10 in the evening, despite their hours saying otherwise. Forgive me for going on about something seemingly mundane; I just love the idea that local small businesses still dominate the corners of Charlottetown, and the population supports not one but many independently owned-stores. What a wonderful thing for the town.
Day Four
Despite the looming clouds threatening to rain, we still got our beach by the ocean day! We started the day with breakfast by the harbour at Receiver Vic Row – Bi-level, a brick-lined coffee shop with espresso drinks, a cafe menu & pastries, plus outdoor seats.
We got some nice egg bennies, mandatory coffee for Ben, and optional decaf for me (yep, no caffeine or alcohol for me, I’m boring like that), and we are off to be energetic tourists around Charlottetown.
Stop 8: Cavendish Beach, Prince Edward Island
Drive Time: ~1 hour from Charlottetown. I’m unsure if it’s just me, or collectively as a culture, there’s a romanticization of the ocean. At least with the Asian cultures I’m familiar with, there’s a significance to “going to see the ocean” as if it’s the deliberate action of being romantic and carefree. It’s also why, several years back, when I saw the ocean for the first time in Vancouver, I felt obligated to dip a finger in just so I could say, “Yep, been there, done that.” Whatever it symbolizes, I’m a sucker for it. I looked forward to being fully immersed in sea water for the very first time.
Yaa yaa, It’S jUsT tHe OcEaN, I hear you say. You forget I’m an Ontario lake peasant, so don’t go yucking my yum now; you’re still on this journey with me, and we’ve come far! Let me tell you all about my first swim in the ocean. Well, swim is a strong word; it was more like getting smacked in the face by the waves. Yep, the term “The Ocean” hits a little differently now, physically and metaphorically.
Are you the type to get the shock of cold water over with by dunking yourself in, or are you similar to me, wearily lowering the body into the cold water with your jaw clenching and teeth gritting at every new inch of skin exposed? I finally adjusted to the 14-degree water after about 10 minutes of screaming.
Once adjusted, it didn’t take long to find the simple joys of the ocean – wave hopping. Just like how it sounds, each time a tide rushed towards us, we’d bend our knees and make a jump forward. Laughing, splashing, and floating in the salty sea, much like children, before things took a “darker” turn.
Dun.dun.dunnnn.
Wave hopping, or generally being in the sea, is all fun and games until one misjudges the size of the incoming waves. Sometimes, a splash in the face held so much force it left my ears and nose waterlogged. Each time, it left a shockingly salty taste in my mouth, definitely not something I was used to.
More often than not, unable to hear or breathe, a second wave would follow, knocking the already disoriented me off my footing, and after losing the little control I had, the waves would continue. I’d struggle to fight against the waves only to learn it was easier to relax and lean into the tides. It was a cycle of excitement, waves coming, going under, quick fear, everything turned out okay, followed by excitement again.
I pretty much did that repeatedly while awkwardly adjusting my bikini underwater as the waves shifted it around. Not sure if I just never had good-fitting bikinis, or it’s just not for my itty bitty titties. I always had to adjust them in fear of an accidental half-skinny dipping incident.
As I was preoccupied with the above-mentioned actions after a wave, a rollercoaster of emotions, really. I watched Ben resurface from the water with his naked face. He, who cannot legally drive without glasses and cannot see his phone at arm’s length without glasses, who is blind as a bat without glasses, has emerged from the water with his face bare, like a baby’s bum.
Storytime
I felt around the sandbed with my foot, hoping for the slight chance that I’d step on the glasses and we’d laugh about it in 20 minutes with Ben’s vision safely restored. I had a lot on my mind, mainly around the idea that Ben couldn’t possibly enjoy the rest of the trip, and we’d just begun. More importantly, he’s also the main driver since I’m still building confidence as a “new” driver, how are we going to get through the rest of the trip?
“We’ll find it,” I thought briefly, “the ocean isn’t gonna do this to us,” another thought followed, and I immediately felt how ridiculous it was. The ocean isn’t gonna do this to us? The ocean doesn’t give a flying fuck about anybody, let alone us. Who are we? The “Main Characters”? Absolute insanity.
“There’s no way we’re gonna find it,” I corrected myself loudly, observing the tides that were still coming and going, not stopping for anyone or anything, as they should.
Ben, who was not far from me, moved his hands blindly underwater. A wave smacked over his head, followed by another. He wore the expression of a blind man trying his hardest to see, and my danger alarm started to ring.
“C’mon, let’s get out of the water first,” Anxious thoughts marinated in my mind, I grabbed Ben’s hand and began walking back to shore.
“Are you okay?” I asked after finding our way back to the picnic blanket laid on top of the finely sanded beach.
“Yeah, I still have a pair of prescription sunglasses in the car,” Ben shrugged.
“You will have to wear it day and night; you won’t be able to see anything at night!” I said, a wave of guilt washing over me. I felt terrible for him.
“It’s fine. At least I can still see,” Ben replied nonchalantly. He never seemed to fret over the things that easily flustered me and to be fair, most things flustered me.
“Are you sure you feel okay?” I asked again, concerned he was secretly feeling down. I was fully prepared to tell him it was okay. I could do the night driving. It’s not ideal, but I’ll do my darn best. It’s also be a bit weird for him to wear sunglasses indoors, but it’s not a big deal either, we can make it work.
“I’m okay if you are okay,” He looked at me with those bare eyes, and I realized I was making it a bigger deal than it was; I always did when things went slightly haywire.
All I needed was a quick mentality shift: The good news is having a pair of prescription sunglasses; the best news is there being a pair of prescription sunglasses in the first place. I cannot imagine how the trip would turn out if we had nothing. I guess we’re two lucky ducks after all.
We spent the rest of the hour in the water since Ben couldn’t possibly lose anything else. However, I still clutched him tightly every time he drifted too far. You know, in case he blindly gets carried away by a big wave. What can I say, a worrier will always be a worrier.
We left the beach that day with awe, respect, and a bit of fear for the ocean.
Perhaps I was being overly dramatic and sensitive, but fear and worry are an innate response when we experience something foreign; that’s the case for me, at least.
Ben losing his glasses wasn’t a big deal, but I saw it as a gentle reminder. Indeed, Mother Nature is scary.
As obvious as it sounds, it’s a sentiment that’s easy to forget. I’m always one to read too much into mundane events, so I’m grateful it was a pair of glasses and nothing more. It served as a reminder to reflect on the sheltered life I’ve grown accustomed to, where there’s always the illusion of control when there is really none.
See, I told you things took a darker turn.
Stop 9: New Glasgow Lobster Suppers, Prince Edward Island
After a scenic hike around the national park where Cavendish Beach is situated, we pulled up at the Cavendish boardwalk filled with souvenir shops. Like any good tourists, we got PEI logoed t-shirts to prove we’ve been there once upon a time. We then excitedly headed to our meal of the day: New Glasgow Lobster Suppers – Opened in 1958, a seasonal eatery that serves fixed-price lobster meals in an airy dining hall. 1.5 pounds of lobster for me; a plate of surf and turf for Ben; and buckets of mussels with multiple appetizers and desserts later; we were as happy as a clam.
There really isn’t anything fancy about the spot; it’s a well-oiled machine to churn out large plates of food by the dozen. Did I feel like the parents of Chihiro in Spirited Away while stuffing my face with endless bread, appetizers, and creatures of the Sea? I did, but the other voice in my head told me to shut up and just enjoy indulgence in peace for once in my life.
Day Five
At last, on the fifth day, the rain came pouring. Despite being soaked during our walk because we bought a terrible umbrella that flipped a dozen times, we were determined to stop by Water Prince Corner Shop to try the best lobster rolls in town.
Friendly Tip:
I recommend calling ahead of time to reserve a spot if you are set on this place. We arrived around 10 A.M. and were lucky to have been squeezed in. The majority of the tables were reserved, and a line of customers without reservations showed up after us.
Do you get spooked when seeing Market Price on the menu? I sure do. I think it comes from a deep fear of relinquishing control because my wallet is hypothetically in their hands…
Regardless, we came for the rolls and the rolls we shall receive at $27 apiece. Good thing it was darn delicious.
For our final stop before leaving the island, we dropped by the Book Emporium. Painstakingly, I found a book to purchase despite the lack of need for one; it was my feeble attempt to support the elderly gentleman who ran the shop, who still used manual cash registers and hand-wrote his receipts. I found fondness in the little bookstore and the store owner’s demeanour, passion, and way of life. I think deep down, I have a little love for him. Well, I loved the idea of him and the life he led that I’ve conjured up in my mind. It is likely incorrect, so yes, I’m aware I’m psychotic.
Kate LSY 
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