What We Came For—Anne Day: 27 June 2014, Friday

A common question we get out here on the island is “What brings you to PEI?” Let’s be honest: we came because of Anne.

            So with great anticipation, on Friday we plaited our hair carefully in two pigtails—actually I plaited everyone’s hair carefully in two pigtails—donned our hats, and embarked in the early-morning light for Cavendish. (This might be a good time to insert that Jenny and I ran five miles down some lovely Montague roads this morning. It might also be a good time to mention that I’ve never run five miles before.)

            

We drove through thick fog to North Rustico, where we stopped at a lighthouse and walked through a little shop at which Jenny bought a wooden flute from Bali. Lucky for us we also got a million-dollar view there—for free! Good thing too, because the view was probably somewhat less than a million-dollar view, credit to the fog. But we’ve a good scope for imagination these days, so that was alright.

            Our first stop in Cavendish—the real Avonlea—was the gas station. I know. So unromantic. Our second stop was the information center. Slightly more romantic maybe? Our third stop, however, was very romantic, and it made up for the faults of the first two. We parked next to the loveliest of fields and walked up to the site of L.M. Montgomery’s home.

 This is where I pause to say that L.M. Montgomery has had a profound impact on my life. I have always admired her and loved her work. Long ago (fifth grade?) I realized that I needed to marry someone whose last name began with M so that my initials might be the same as hers. We’re kindred spirits, she and I. 

(Please note titles of the books we are reading.)

            

                    We wandered the woods around her home site and read quotes from her journals. The sun burned off the clouds above our heads and the birds sang lightly. And it was perfect.

            We continued wandering down the wooded path into an even more wooded path—the path of the Haunted Wood! Thank goodness it was light out, for instead of seeing the ghost of a little murdered child or the headless man or the skeletons that glower between the boughs, we heard the happy brook babbling along and perhaps a fairy singing through the balsams. Otherwise we might have run as fast as we could to Green Gables.

            Green Gables was all we hoped it would be. Yes, yes, it’s a fiction, but it was rather magical to tour the home that inspired the setting for Anne’s story.

           

             

After a walk through the house we headed out to Lover’s Lane. And took the wrong road and got lost. We found ourselves on the fairway of the golf course that surrounds Green Gables (pretty sure that wasn’t there when Anne was) and then cut through the woods to Lover’s Lane. We stopped for a moment in a piece of sunshine and read a chapter from Anne. We continued along and discovered that Jenny and I get a little grumpy when we are hungry.

(View from Green Gables.)

            

            To remedy that we went back to North Rustico and ordered a lobster and scallops in lobster sauce with potato croquettes. The dinner was delicious. I was not sure I would like it, but I did—we all did. However, the green pasty liver, which, they tell us, is a delicacy, did not win our tastebuds over, mostly because we knew it was liver, and getting over stereotypes about foods can be hard to do. Oh, and cracking the lobster in half wasn’t exactly appetizing. But we ate her anyway and enjoyed the adventure of it.

            Post lobster we took a nap in the car, the golden sunrays streaming through the windows, and then bought milkshakes at Amanda’s—sent to us like manna (or Amanda) from heaven.

            With still more Anne land to explore, we drove to the Lake of Shining Waters and read about Anne as the unfortunate lily maid, heroically rescued by Sir Gilbert from the pile of the bridge.

               We then ventured to find the Tryon Lighthouse and the red cliffs where Lucy Maud loved to wander. Well, they sure do a good job of hiding those red cliffs and the lighthouse, for we drove in circles and down some driveways before finding a roped-off road that simply had to lead to the spot. We walked nearly a half-mile to the lighthouse and admired the view and found two four-leaf clovers.


            The evening ended as every perfect evening should: on the shores of Cavendish, exploring the red rocky shore, telling stories about ourselves, and watching the sun dip into the ocean waters. We sat on a grassy dune as the purple waves rolled onto the sand and the bronzed sun painted the sky dusty mauve. The steely waters glinted as though foiled in gold.

            The pictures certainly don't do the scene justice.

We traveled back home in the quiet dusk, a little more romance and a lot more Anne in our hearts.