If you’re one of those Islanders who have never been east of the Hillsborough River or west of Slemon Park, then stop reading.
If you’re idea of a “getaway weekend” is Halifax or Moncton, then turn the page.
And if the idea of touring your home province is about as a stimulating as dragging the waste bin to the roadside, then give it up.
Stay-cation is a stupid word so I want to tell you about an “alter-cation.” I take credit for an equally stupid word - in this context - because that’s what it took for my enthusiastic sweetheart to motivate my lazy demeanour into action.
It began with a planned night at the Indian River Festival. My wife is a big fan and insisted we travel across the province - imagine I thought in horror, a 90-minute drive - to attend a performance by Suzie Leblanc.
However, the intention was not to drive home again. Instead, my lovely suggested we take the entire weekend - I arranged to take it off - to tour the western end of our great province. We live in the east.
We’ve both been to the west on work-related matters, but never just for the pleasure of “messin” around the back roads.
Before the Suzie Leblanc show on Friday night we chowed down at the friendly Cole’s Family Restaurant in Kensington before heading to Indian River. The show was excellent, due partly to the incredible acoustics of that grand old church that hopefully will be retained and restored.
Then it was back to a nice bed and breakfast in Kensington, which, unlike many Island towns, has plenty of sidewalks. That was appreciated since we had our new pup in tow and walks are a big part of the canine/human relationship.
Our intent was to explore and meander. No agenda, no time frame.
We toured through French River and Malpeque Harbour and took the dirt roads to Cape Tryon lighthouse and Cousin’s Shore, which offers up some of the most amazing coastline in the province. Those living in the developments along the shore have stunning views, even if some of us might - like the quest of the late artist and advocate Marc Gallant - think so many is a blight across the landscape.
A beach walk to Cabot Beach Provincial Park that looks out to Hog Island, one of the longest sand dune stretches in the province, concluded the morning and it was off to the west of the county.
It was lunch on the deck at The Landing in Tyne Valley, where owner James Cecil delivered us a great plate of fish and chips and talked about the live music that night while we absorbed the beauty and relaxation in one of the prettiest villages on the Island.
Being from the east, we compared it to another jewel we know as Cardigan.
We headed on a beautiful drive to Lennox Island and up through Foxley River and took many side trips to the shore on long winding red dirt roads to see more of the amazing dune system across the Conway Narrows.
The plan was to follow the shoreline roads and get completely off the main highway which is totally deceptive. West Prince is largely, and unfortunately, ignored in the overall tourism scheme and Highway 2 does this hidden treasure no justice.
The back road drive took us - and the dog - to Cascumpec Bay for more shoreline hikes and eventually led us to Alberton and the incredible gardens and warm hospitality of Phil and Diane Rocheford at the beautiful Hunter House Inn.
It was getting late so it was suggested we do our Saturday night dining a few kilometres away in Northport, one of western P.E.I.’s largest ports.
Nowhere on the Island are the colours so vibrant in the evening sun or the dirt as red as Northport. Almost as red as the storied past of shipwrecks and skullduggery and the wild rule of a tyrant there during the late 1700s.
A giant boardwalk, a working port, a bustling marina of pleasure boats, and an old boat shop converted into a fine restaurant were all visible.
The Island is blessed with tremendous views, but the Boat House not only offers up tremendous fare from the menu, but arguably the finest view in the province looking out onto Oulton Island. We sampled an array of seafood from crab legs to shrimp skewers and fresh haddock and it was all delicious.
After a gourmet Sunday breakfast provided by the Rocheford’s, it was off to the western tip. We were advised to stop at a little Anglican church to see the monument to the dead sailors and the path to the Kildare Capes where they washed ashore over 150 years ago in the great storm called the Yankee Gale.
Rich with history here, the gale laid waste to dozens of vessels fishing in the Gulf from the Maritimes to New England. The Capes are a marvel of red cliffs and white breakers pounding in from the blue of the sea.
The wind test site at North Cape has become a tourist destination and is a place where the wind rarely stops blowing. It was a beautiful day with a warm breeze and tourists from Quebec to New England stood in awe of the giant windmills while watching the tides smash on the reef and locals raking in the Irish moss.
A quick stop at Eugene’s Store in the beautiful village of Tignish and we soon passed a Quebec family that scurried into a farm field so photographs could be taken of the kids standing on top of large rolled bales of golden hay.
Friendly waves were offered as battered hulks of cars being towed by ropes passed us en route to Gallant’s Pit in Norway for the local fire department’s demolition derby fundraiser.
It was the western shore road (Highway 14) that truly emphasized the wild beauty of this windswept region where people go to sea to profit and survive and genuinely shine with the fierce independence a rural life demands.
There’s Cavendish beach and there’s Greenwich beach and there’s even Basin Head, but one of the most breathtaking is the stretch from Nail Pond to Skinner’s Pond. Nothing but miles of white sand where a few very lucky souls digging in for a beach day had the entire magnificent stretch to themselves.
We would have continued onto Miminegash and West Point, but the navigator of our trip was curious to see the studio of a local folk carver in Lauretta.
We veered off the shore road and headed inland and down some back roads to the home of Kerras Jefferey.
He gave up working on a potato farm 13 years ago and turned his hand to art.
His shop is an array of whimsical designs from lobster butlers and fox benches to buxom mermaids and paint brush people.
Kerras loves to talk antiques, toys, scrounging old wood and fishing gear and showing you his incredible museum.
By the time we left - with a few treasures in tow - our weekend getaway had expired. It was time to head home and we had barely scratched the surface.
It was my weekend off, but as we formulated the idea of another “alter-cation” to western Prince Edward Island - this story wanted to be told.
We rejoined the main road to head home and realized that Highway 2 may cut through the heart of West Prince, but that's not where the beat is.
