The Bay of Fundy almost splits New Brunswick from Nova Scotia; only a fifteen-mile-wide strip of land holding the two together prevents the bay from connecting with the Northumberland Strait in the east.  That little strip of land makes a big difference; because of the shape of the Bay of Fundy, the tides here are unusually extreme - the most extreme in the world.  Here is a small harbor and covered bridge near St. Martins, about a half-hour drive east of Saint John...

...and the same spot just over two hours later.  The fishing boats now rest on land, and the little water flowing under the bridge is just runoff.  Again, this was just over two hours later, a third of the time from high to low tide.

Not surprisingly, the unusual tides lead to some rather unusual geology along the Fundy coast.  This is a view from the Fundy Trail Parkway east of St. Martins, where the tidal action has eroded away all the rock along the shore except for one little piece.  That one piece, with grass and trees sprouting out of its top, is called a flowerpot.  At high tide, a flowerpot becomes an island, and the bay water erodes away its base; eventually, the rock here too will erode away and the flowerpot will fall into the bay.  As the water continues to carve away that craggy cliff, more flowerpots will form.

Along the Fundy coast, near the Fundy Trail Parkway.  From St. Andrews to Saint John to here, all of the water I photographed is the Atlantic Ocean, with all of the coastline within a two-hour drive of Maine’s coastal border with Canada.

The fog rolls in along the Fundy Trail Parkway.  The fog atop the Bay of Fundy was a constant presence during my entire visit; it was never far offshore during the day and it moved onshore most every afternoon or evening.  My first view of the fog came days earlier while driving up from Halifax across that narrow strip of land to New Brunswick; it lay like a thick, thick blanket on the bay and could be seen from many miles away on that perfectly clear day.  As I crossed, a breeze blew fog off the end of the bay like froth off a beer, sending little fog clouds sailing fast across the highway just a few meters above the traffic.

At the end of the Fundy Trail Parkway, the next thirty miles of coastline is so rugged that no road travels along it.  One must backtrack many miles and head inland before approaching the coast again further northeast.  The road that makes that approach cuts through Fundy National Park, one of the most popular in Canada.  This is Dickson Falls, in the park, less than a mile from the coast.

The top of Dickson Falls.  With over sixty miles of trails, some of them along the coast, Fundy National Park is a great place for serious hikers.  The little coastal town of Alma, just outside the park’s east entrance, is a good place to stay as a central location to this part of New Brunswick; from there, it’s a short drive to Dickson Falls and Point Wolfe back in the park, and less than an hour to Cape Enrage and the Hopewell Rocks further east along the coast.

The covered bridge at Point Wolfe from the road...

...and from the rocks below the bridge.  During the time I waited for the sky to clear, the water flow beneath the bridge reversed direction because of the tide.

The lighthouse at Cape Enrage, a short drive east of Fundy National Park, has an unusual story.  Abandoned two decades ago and scheduled for demolition, the lighthouse was championed by high school students in the nearby city of Moncton who not only renovated it but also created an award-winning family adventure center here.  Kayaking, rappelling, rock climbing, and more are available; during my visit, a family was taking turns down a zipline.

The views from Cape Enrage have won attention as well.  This sunset view was photographed from the same spot where the two people stand in the previous photograph, a hundred feet above the water.  To get down to the shore, just walk a few paces from here; the final step will take you over one of the sheer cliffs that surround the cape, and you’ll reach the water very quickly.

The Hopewell Rocks at sunrise.  Earlier on this page is a photograph of a single flowerpot; this is a whole flowerpot family.  The tides are particularly extreme here at the eastern end of the Bay of Fundy; on the day of my visit, the elevation difference between low and high tide was over eleven meters - over 36 feet - which would cover a three-story building.  On more extreme days, it would cover a four-story building.

Had I taken this same shot six hours later, I would have been underwater watching kayakers float over top of me.  Twice a day, this is the ocean floor.

The ocean floor here is neither sand nor gravel; it’s basically barnacled rock.  Caves, tunnels, and other geological oddities created by erosion can be explored around here for a few hours at a time.  The whole Fundy coast is strange, but the Hopewell Rocks area is otherworldly.

To get photographs of the Hopewell Rocks like these, all you have to do is schedule your trip months in advance to ensure that you arrive on a day when low tide occurs near sunrise, wake up at 4am on the day of your trip here, drive an hour in pitch darkness from either Alma or Moncton, avoid hitting a moose along the way, hope that the area isn’t fogged in upon your arrival, and pray for clear weather.  Then you’ll have a chance.