A Bridge Too Far

We woke to a downpour of rain and rocking-the-van winds in Charlottetown, and news reports of cancelled ferries and restricted traffic across the Confederation Bridge. Did our van fall into the high-sided vehicles prohibited from crossing?

We would find out.

As we approached the coast, the skeletal outline of the bridge loomed out of the grey skies, daring us to cross. We passed a few semi trailers parked near the toll bridge and inched forward in the queue of vehicles, drivers flexing their knuckles which would soon be white. The wind roared and the waves lashed against the bridge moorings.

Not only did they let us through the toll gates, they charged us $50 to head across the Norththumberland Strait — a wild and windy journey of 13 minutes made disconcerting by the fact you can’t see land for most of it.

Like modern-day sailors, we called out “land ho” when New Brunswick came into view. The wind howled, Scott screamed (not my proudest moment) and Finnegan laughed like a demented clown as his tires made landfall.

Catastrophe averted.Læs mere