I reread my journals now and then. I still find typos occasionally, or things that aren't displaying properly. A couple of years ago, I had to recode everything with an accent mark of any kind, as HTML standards had changed. Once in a while, I make a correction of fact, or add a clarification for something I've learned more about, or rewrite an awkward sentence or an unclear paragraph. I cringe sometimes at my writing style fifteen or twenty years ago...to be honest, I don't know if it's any better now. Mostly, I let things stand, documents not only of what I've seen and done, but also of how I interpreted them at the time.

One thing that strikes me in review is how often I mention whether I think a place I've visited is worth a return. I have an odd attitude about this, maybe; often I'm thinking about another visit while I'm still there. I rarely feel been-there-done-that, one-and-done, unless I'm really unimpressed. It happens in some places that a second visit a year later is enough, while some favorites feel especially comfortable and get visited again and again. But looking back through the journals, I find a lot of places that I promise to revisit, and never do. That's just how it goes--there isn't enough time and money for all of them.

Just last fall, I said this about Grand Manan: "Would I return? I can't think of a really good reason, but maybe I don't need one. Just being there would be enough." I really thought it unlikely that I would visit again. But a couple of months ago, as I was finishing up the journal, I found myself thinking a lot about the boat trip to Machias Seal Island, to view nesting puffins. I've been in a lot of places where puffins and other seabirds can be seen, but I'm always out of season. The late-lingering gannet colony on Île Bonaventure, near Percé on the Gaspé Peninsula, is the only one I've experienced. I decided to book a return to Grand Manan for late June, the earliest the Machias Seal trip runs. I also booked four nights in St Andrews, another place where just being there is enough. It would be a relaxing ten-day trip. I intended to book another trip for May, two or three weeks, and thought a lot about where that could go. Les Îles-de-la-Madeleine, the Magdalen Islands, called to me. It made no sense to go in the same direction twice, a month apart, so I added it to the June trip. I've been there twice before, in 1994 and 2012. "There will be a next visit, and it won't be eighteen years from now, if I can help it," I wrote after the latter visit. Promise kept, for once: it's only been fourteen.

Wednesday 3 June 2026--Ron isn't joining me on this trip, but his home in Reading makes a convenient step for me on my way to the Maritimes. I stayed there last night, and had dinner and a few pints with him. It's still 420 miles from Reading to Fredericton, New Brunswick. I drove long distances for a living, in my career as a charter bus driver. These days, I try to keep my travel days to two or three hours of driving, but a six-hour drive is unavoidable on the way to and from New Brunswick. Bus driver mode kicks in automatically, and I crush it, stopping only briefly to buy a bottle of Arran single malt in New Hampshire, to stretch my legs and have a peek at Mount Katahdin in Maine, and to fuel up the car in Houlton before crossing the border. The price of diesel is through the roof at the moment, thanks to...well, never mind. It helps that my Jetta gets nearly 50 miles per gallon on the highway.

Check in at the same apartment Ron and I stayed in last fall, owned by Graystone Brewing. There's complimentary beer in the fridge, and a gift card for use in the pub. Pick up breakfast supplies at the Victory Meat Market, and have dinner at RustiCo. It's a very pleasant evening on their patio. Road fatigue catches up with me, and I retire early.