07/2/19 / by Jesse Griffith

Days 63 and 64

The Bay of Fundy

The first time I touched Fundy soil and heard of it's great tides was back in a 1991 or 92, in the first grade. The roaming supply art teacher came in sporting a large white overcoat, fishing line and large clear bags filled with heavy fresh dense red clay. The fishing line was used to slice a thick slab off for each student. I'd never seen a red that expressive and weighty. It got under the skin. She explained where she collected the clay showing us pictures of the muddy banks of the shores and warning us of the treacherous Fundy tides that hold World records for being the highest.

It was with a magical and magnetic force that brought me to this coastline and solidifying a unique place in my soul almost six years ago. Driving down the long lane way for the first time I was not prepared for the sights that would occupy so much of my present life. To say 'mesmerized' is an understatement. The vantage point overlooking the Bay in it's un-glossed ever-changing glory toward Five Islands as they sit majestic directly across the bay is less than 20 kms away. The initial and immediate thought was "I want to live AND die here." I've never had an emotion equal to this sensation, and am fortunate to live where I do and to have actually found it, albeit blindly.

There are many moods to the tides' crests and falls alongside unique wind patterns that play in tandem with these tidal cycles throughout the seasons, creating weather patterns and ecosystems unto themselves. The stark contrasting of tides represents it's own natural rhythm that you start to read after a short while of observing - it's either coming in or going out. The legacy of these seas traversed by brave souls of the past barely linger while small farms graze the coastline marking a dwindling but persistent self reliant way of life. These shores are also home to the creation story for the Mi'kmaq and contain the legends of Glooscap and many great stories of the the First Nation and its people.

Whether by proximity or by immersion, these connections to the past shaped what was to come. Upon discovering the sounds of the wandarian mode I initially thought of it as a kind of nostalgia for life (and music) for 3,000 years ago. I frequent the beaches and forests daily and admire views and settings where the influences of inhabitants aren't so obvious, I like to see and imagine how things could have been in previous eras. The geological layers visible on the banks via twisted grays of shale concocting in around and diverse directions truncated by red sandstone banks of all heights and magnitudes of red paint the cliffs in a wonder of colour also carry fossils from dinosaurs and flora from millions of years ago.

The Bay becomes the backdrop for everything. It's a magnetic energy that operates on plains I can't fathom, only can vaguely sense. I met a German woman who raises horses in the area and the very first words out of her mouth to me were not 'my name is...' but, "Do you know about the negative ionic energy that the tides carry is healing...?" I was taken aback and left with how truly uniquely special this place was for her, and now for me, I can't comprehend the significance. I think of it is a some form of vibration that attracts certain people here, it goes way beyond a pretty scene, although it has that going on as well. It is a raw, scary, beautiful, dense and vast place that is ever inspiring.