Sunday 14 September 2025--The itinerary for this trip originally had St Andrews at the beginning and Grand Manan at the end. Availability in St Andrews caused me to flip them around. The resulting shift has a number of repercussions; some things that are time-dependent have become a little more awkward. We also have to start out earlier than we'd like this morning, for reasons I will explain shortly. We begin by crossing the international bridge to Campobello Island, passing through Canadian customs. There's a nice view of Lubec, across the racing strait, from the Mulholland Point Light.

In the late 19th century, Campobello was one of a number of coastal communities that provided escape from urban summer heat for wealthy folk from Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Montreal, and Ottawa. Three good-sized hotels popped up here in the 1880s, like those in St Andrews, Bar Harbor, and other spots. However, the ones here lasted only a few decades. Distance and sketchy transportation infrastructure were a good part of the problem; the insular attitude of the Bostonian developers' primary clientele may have put other potential markets off, as well. The hotels had fallen into disuse by World War I, and all were demolished. [The linked article claims that the Owen Hotel still stands, but that is an apparent confusion with a much smaller inn called Owen House. The hotel was torn down in 1917.]

Nonetheless, there were families who bought lots on the island and built summer homes on them. Among these were James and Sara Roosevelt, parents of future US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The elder Roosevelts later purchased an adjacent cottage as a wedding present for Franklin and his bride, Eleanor. They spent summers there with their children from 1908 to 1921, and were on Campobello when Franklin was stricken with the illness that resulted in paralysis from the waist down (diagnosed at the time as polio, now thought by many to have been Guillain-Barré syndrome). He made only a few brief visits after that, preferring the spa at Warm Springs, Georgia. Eleanor, who lived a largely separate life after discovering Franklin's affair with Lucy Mercer, continued to spend at least part of her summers on Campobello.

The Roosevelt cottage is now part of the Roosevelt Campobello International Park, which was created in 1964 and is jointly managed by the US National Park Service and Parks Canada. We have time for a short stroll around the grounds. A tour bus arrives as we are walking back to the car, and I stop to chat with the driver, and ask about his itinerary. It's pretty similar to ones I drove twenty or so years ago. I'd originally planned a couple of hours to spend exploring more of Campobello; we might have toured the cottage, if Ron was interested. (I've seen it--it's a wealthy family's summer cottage.) But we've moved up our departure by two hours, so that we can arrive on Grand Manan earlier.

The little ferry to Deer Island is privately operated, with seasonal service through the end of September. From then until June, the residents of Campobello will have no direct connection to mainland New Brunswick. Mail comes by truck through the border crossing at Calais and 50 miles through Maine to the bridge. The truck is sealed and is supposed to pass through unmolested, but US Customs routinely opens it and seizes anything considered contraband. As a result, the provincially-run cannabis commission stopped shipping to Campobello. Angry stoners (as well as people who don't like US officials going through their mail) have asked the government to subsidize year-round ferry service, so the mail can come direct. More important, I suppose, is the ability of islanders to work, shop, and visit doctors and other appointments on the mainland without making a long cross-border trip. So far their pleas have gone unanswered.

We make the short crossing, and then the twenty-minute drive from the south end of Deer Island to the north, where we connect with the year-round government-run ferry to the mainland. There's a primary school on the island, but older kids take the ferry to a high school on the mainland. I don't know what kids on Campobello do...bus through the US to St Stephen, maybe. It seems unfair, given that the population of Deer Island is just over 700 and that of Campobello is a bit under a thousand. I suppose the commute time is about the same.

The terminal at Letete is four miles as the crow flies from the terminal at Blacks Harbour, a half-hour drive around the long snakey inlet of the Letang River, which is not really a river. The Scandinavians would call it a fjord, but the geologists wouldn't. I put an hour or so of padding into the schedule to insure against snafu, so we have time now to hit the grocery in St George for supplies--we aren't sure what there will be on Grand Manan. We're at Blacks Harbour with plenty of time to spare. The crossing, under sunny skies, is about an hour and a half. The vessel curls around the Swallowtail, with its emblematic lighthouse, into the terminal at the village of North Head. From there, we hightail it down to the village of Seal Cove, twenty minutes south.

We are staying at Seal Cove because Tides Inn & Social, a short walk from our rental, looked like the best place on the island to hang out for dinner and a pint. In fact, it appears to be the only really pub-like establishment in Grand Manan. In our original itinerary, we'd have been here on the weekend. When I flipped things around, I knew they would be closed on Monday and Tuesday, but we'd still have Sunday and Wednesday nights. Except that, on September 1, they curtailed their hours, closing altogether on Wednesday, and closing early Sunday. And so we moved our ferry trip up two hours, and arrive just in time for one quick pint, somewhat grudgingly served, as staff are in the process of shutting down. And that's all we'll see of Tides Inn & Social. The patio, extending out over the water--or what would be water, at high tide--looks nice.

Our disappointment is tempered when we check into our rental. It's a very nice little house, comfortable and well-equipped, lacking only a back deck from which to look out over Seal Cove with a beer in hand. It appears there once was one, and will be again--as it is, there's about an eight-foot drop out the back door. Misgivings are forgotten altogether when we visit the taproom of the Grand Manan Brewing Company, a half a mile up the road. It's in the tiny clubhouse of the Brookside Golf Course. It isn't much, but it's more than we were expecting, and the beer is good. It'll do for a pint or two after a day's perambulations. The community-owned nine-hole course appears to be a bit rustic, but looks like it would be fun to play. I haven't swung a club in more than thirty years.