From Beach Goats to Bottle Houses: Plenty of unique things to do in P.E.I.

Egmont Bay, on the southwest shore of Prince Edward Island, is as warm as a toddler’s bath and just as shallow.

At high tide, the expanse of red-tinged saltwater extends about a kilometre into the Northumberland Strait, before it becomes any higher than waist-deep.

With my toes in the sand, a warm breeze passing under the brim of my hat, I can see the distant form of my sevenyear-old son, moving confidently toward the horizon on a stand-up paddleboard, as happy as a clam. (Or perhaps, considering what’s beneath the water, I should say, “as happy as an Egmont Bay Oyster.”) Although he’s confident now, little Michael at first found it difficult to stay balanced…as would anyone who had to share their board with a mischievous, 80-pound Nigerian dwarf goat named Wrecks.

“We call him Wrecks because he wrecks everything,” laughs Devon Saila, who, together with her 13-yearold son Keegan, owns Prince Edward Island Beach Goats, a tourism experience that is just as much fun — and just as unpredictable — as it sounds.

Wrecks is one of 24 goats on the property that roam freely on the beach, hop on and off paddleboards, join in goat yoga sessions, and sometimes attend local birthday parties.

The Sailas, originally from Milton, ON, moved to the small community of St. Chrysostome in 2015. Soon after, they adopted the first of their herd: two tiny goats named Captain and Jack.

Uncharacteristically for goats, Captain and Jack took to the water immediately.

“Their very first sight of the world was water,” says Saila. “We brought them across from Nova Scotia on the ferry…and they spent their first summer on the beach.”

The summer of 2019 was the first official year for Beach Goats, with tourists from all over the world flocking to western PEI to join in the fun. Since then, despite a lull in travel due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Saila says she is now as busy as ever with tourists from Atlantic Canada, some of whom come to the Island just to see the goats.

As we chat, my 12-year-old daughter Lucy is also enjoying a paddleboard experience, accompanied by a three-yearold goat named Sadie.

Lucy stayed closer to the shore, which means Sadie remained on the paddleboard, her neck elegantly craned, like some goat-shaped figurehead looking out from the bow of a ship. The scene is as delightful as it is absurd.

Saila breaks from our conversation to playfully scold a goat called Elizabeth who has stuck her nose in my beach bag and is ravenously munching on our map of the North Cape Coastal Drive.

“Goats are big-time mischief-makers,” Saila says, as she gently tugs the crumpled paper away from Elizabeth.

Saila recounts some of her favourite goat stories, such as the time one-year-old Sparrow jumped into a plate of freshly-baked muffins that Saila had put on the table to impress a visitor; the time a goat tried to stowaway in the backseat of a visitor’s car; or the morning that Captain and Jack pressed the “lock all” button on Saila’s car, trapping themselves inside.

Luckily, our family will probably survive the loss of our map, since Saila, a passionate advocate for the region, can direct us anywhere we want to go.

“Can you see those windmills?” she points in the distance. “That’s West Point Lighthouse. There’s a legend that Captain Kidd has buried treasure up there…and we have a huge Acadian community, and there’s a beautiful church and some beautiful sites to see.”

The North Cape Coastal Drive, known as “Canada’s Oyster Coast,” is quiet compared to the hustle and bustle of Cavendish, offering quiet road trips, stunning scenery, and interesting cultural journeys that explore both Acadian and Mi’kmaq cultures. It’s exactly the right pace for our family’s first post-pandemic road trip.

On the way back to our rented beach cottage, we will visit the Bottle Houses Museum in Cape Egmont, created by lighthouse keeper Édouard Arsenault in the 1980s and lovingly reconstructed by the community in 1998.

The three life-sized structures — a house, a chapel and a tavern — were made using over 25,000 glass bottles. To walk through them is to be immersed in a light-filled fantasy world, while the adjoining gardens are like something out of a fairytale.

Sitting on the freshly mowed grass, Michael and I enjoy a game of giant Connect-4 — a peaceful way to end the day.

But as I plan our next steps, I realize that first, I will have to disengage myself from Wrecks, who — having long since abandoned the paddleboard — is now fully occupied with nibbling at my toes.

“He thinks your toenails are Skittles,” says Saila, “because of the nail polish.”

As we drive away from one of the most memorable experiences of our P.E.I. vacation and on to our next adventure, we make sure to check the trunk of our SUV… for stowaway goats.