It's just glorious, that's all. The swimming here as well as the beach, in my opinion, is the best we've thus far experienced. The water is crystal clear, chilly and ever so refreshing. I didn't need to wear sandals because there weren't any rocks or sharp shells, just nice soft sand. Carol, to everlasting loss, remained on shore. Nicky, however, at least did some toe testing. Not sure if it's the weather or if we're just lucky, but we had the beach, for the bulk of our time, to ourselves. Out in the distance one can easily see Pictou Island and farther away one can see the outline of PEI. In my minds eye I see giant, tall, three masted ships with billowing white sails dotting the horizon; however, in reality, I see the building block outlines of car ferries from Wood Islands. I wonder if someday in the distant future, someone will have a similar reverie thinking back to the glorious days of square, building block looking, car ferries.
About a mile and a half further down the beach is the famous Pictou Resort complex. They have a wonderful, first class restaurant, overlooking their beach. Although I love my wife's infinitely creative cooking, I thought tonight we'd do something different. Donning our best outfits (Carol, anyway) and grabbing two flashlights, we locked Nicky in the Casita and started down the beach. It was still twilight so the going was easy. The sound of the waves rolling up the beach blended perfectly with our conversation. We passed a lovely mermaid in the sand and said hello. We are like salmon in some respects: we came from the sea and we return to the sea. It calls us like no other siren. Why do 75 percent of the worlds' population live on or near large bodies of water?
The buggy outside the restaurant evoked the old world grace and charm that we were soon to discover inside. The giant fireplace and wood beams reminded us of our time at the Yellowstone Lodge. The food, Carol had salmon, I attacked the catch of the day, was superb. We took our time, we enjoy each other's company. I thought about my father and all the meals we had at the Mariner Sands Golf Club. The same, formally dressed servers attending to our every need. I miss him.
After paying the bill, without any tempting treats on the dessert tray, we strode out into the pitch black night and onto the beach. The first part of our return journey was uneventful. However, somewhere in the middle leg, my flashlight went blank and Carol's starting getting wobbly. In the meantime, the tide had come in forcing us up toward the rocky part of the beach. Like two lost children holding hands in the forest, we inched our way back. Once we were safely back inside the Casita could we laugh about it but when the outcome was still undecided, there were a few moments of, “I can't believe this is happening.” We only hoped that the mermaid survived the evening unscathed.