Cook’s Cove, PEI

Our daughter has been spending some time with us while she completes a placement at the Moncton Hospital. It has been just grand having her home for an extended stay, the first time in quite a few years. It is almost time for her to head back to school for the next gruelling portion of her MA in Physiotherapy, so when she isn’t working, we have been busy with a few activities. 

In between snow falls we made a day trip over to PEI to visit with Dad and the rest of the family. And whenever we go to the Island, a trip down the hill to the beach - no matter how quick - is a requirement. We are drawn to the ocean and the beachside; salt air is essential to our being.

Our cove continues to change with the years. Again this winter we are seeing much erosion of the the two points that define our beloved “Cook’s Cove”. The elements play havoc on the sandstones and claystones, both easily erodible sedimentary rock. With the growing natural erosion of the past few winters from an increased number of storm surges and higher tides, we are seeing more fine soft sand that PEI is known for. Such is the price we pay for our sandy beaches.

The south shores, which are sheltered by the Northumberland Strait, are eroding at an average of 1.6 feet per year, where some areas of the north and west shores erode up to 6 feet per year! 

These are “brown”sicles as the sandstone drips via natural springs down the cliffs.

Gotta love that red sand! 

It was so sheltered and sunny, we all felt we could have just jumped right in! I told Simone to go first.....

With its warm waters, soft sand and sandbars that stretch to the horizon line, we have spent many happy hours in all types of weather on this beach. I remember my whole family spending mornings scouring the beach for sea glass. I remember my Mom calling my girlfriend and I to come and eat, and the two of us racing back to the water, sandwiches in hand. I remember lying in the hot pools of water between the sandbars, after our imaginary clipper ship had gone down off shore, stranding us in the "New World". I remember when our leisure craft did go down in a huge storm and we had to try to dig it out! I remember my children being so played out after a full day of swimming and running on the sandbars in their Uncle Gimmie’s mazes that they fell asleep headfirst into their dinner plates. I remember sand castle contests. I remember the neighbours calling us because our three legged dog was bobbing around in the water for hours on end and they were afraid he might drown. I remember my Dad rescuing our toboggan from the ice floes when it got away from us and all of us holding our breath until he landed safely back on the beach.

I always sigh when I step onto the sand. It’s home.