One last hike

By Jonathan Riley

DIGBY COURIER

NovaNewsNow.com

I’ve spent a few days down on the shore of Digby Gut this month soaking up the atmosphere of home.

By now many of you have heard that I have resigned from the Courier. I’m headed back to Germany for a longer stay this time.

So as a sort of farewell, I’ve been climbing over the rocks and seaweed, taking photos and listening to the waves.

From the first day I stumbled out to the lighthouse, I have dreamt of a walking path from Digby, to the ferry terminal and on to Point Prim.

In the summer I see lots and lots of walkers, joggers and cyclists cruising the Shore Road. Just think if the town and municipality could add a real sidewalk or walking path, around the Racquette especially, how many more people would feel safe enough to travel along the shore – with leashed pets or with strollers even.

Beyond the ferry terminal, my idea becomes more difficult – both because of terrain and the diversity of landowners whose cooperation would be necessary.

I love walking along the shore, mostly because out there I can get away from everyone and everything and truly relax and breathe.

Given free rein to dream, I would love to see a trail extending all the way from Point Prim to East Ferry.

This is not a new idea – the East Coast trail snakes along the east side of the Avalon Peninsula in Newfoundland passing through 30 different communities.

The volunteer group that runs the trail has it set up so people can walk from village to village while their luggage is driven ahead to the next Bed and Breakfast. Just imagine a such a system connecting Digby to Brier Island.

I have already written of my walks as far as Centreville but at this time of year and considering my time constraints, I decided to see if I could walk from the Bayview Lifesaving station to Point Prim. It took me three tries.

The first trip I was turned back by darkness, the second time I set out stubbornly at high tide.

At high water it is impossible to go far on the shore. Worse, I felt the waves were threatening me, squeezing me between cold frothy sea and steep icy rock.

On the third trip I hit the shore before 8 a.m., about an hour and a half before low tide and the going was remarkably easier.

I gained access to the shore by walking down a Department of Natural Resources right of way near the Lifesaving station and then slipped and slid over the rocky beach.

My first surprise was learning that this hike is actually easier in winter. Seaweed when it’s frozen is a wonderful thing to walk on - it is not slippery and most surprising of all, I left bright white footprints on the dark mats.

A second surprise waited less than a kilometer along the shore: three cannons from the late 1700s lie covered in snow and leaves.

I understand Parks Canada owns the land they sit on and that there has been talk of moving them some place safer. I have not had enough time to find out just what is going on or rather not going on with these priceless treasures.

The big show however on this shore in winter is the icicles.

There are miles of them out there – hanging from great cliffs 120 and 140 feet high.

At one spot, a thin stream of water, often blown into a mist, falls 40 feet from an overhanging cliff. An ever-changing tapestry of ice columns and icicles surrounds that waterfall. And with every tide or strong wind they shatter and then are rebuilt by relentless run off.

Half way to Point Prim, Turnbull’s Brook spills onto the shore. It is possible to climb up the waterfall and follow the brook to Lighthouse Road. What a sweet little spot this must be in the summer.

From here I took a deep breath and headed for Point Prim – it is just over a kilometre to the point but there are only a couples places where it is possible to get off the shore.

Not until I reached Condon’s Point did I realize just how hard it would be to get up to dry land. The waves lap up against the cliff along the last 20 feet of shore even at lowest tide – I had to climb along a small ledge about 12 feet up the cliff, hanging onto “manes” of frozen seaweed.

From Condon’s Point it is a short but snowy walk to Point Prim and the lighthouse where I first started dreaming of a Digby Neck trail.

Even if there is never such a trail, there will always be a shore to come back to, and that will be a great comfort to me as I wander through a sealess countryside over the next few months.