All language subtitles for Undiscovered Vistas Series 1 11of14 High Tide at the Bay of Fundy 1080p HDTV

NARRATOR: On Canada's east
coast, the world's highest tides

move more than 100 billion
tons of water.

As the mighty Atlantic Ocean
rises and falls.

In just one day, more water will
funnel through this bay than the

combined discharge of all
freshwater rivers on earth.

PHILLIPS:
t's always eroding away, it's
always moving back and forth,

it never stops.

Just ceaseless tides
continually reshaping the bay.

NARRATOR: This is the
Bay of Fundy.

(♪♪♪)

(♪♪♪)

It's summer on the Bay of Fundy,
and thousands of shorebirds

have arrived to fuel up during
their great migration south.

As the tide rolls in to
Fundy's coastal flatlands,

tiny migrant birds, called
semipalmated sandpipers,

retreat to the shore,
crowding on a sliver of beach.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
It's a unique scene on the
shores because the beach,

it looks like pebbles.

But at high tide, it's possible
you could be looking at a group

of say 20,000 little
semipalmated sandpipers

all bunched together.

NARRATOR:
Subtle brown, grey, and white
coloring camouflages the birds.

Semipalmated sandpipers
are long-distance travelers.

The Bay of Fundy is the
only stop these sandpipers

will make before their
2,500-mile journey south.

They arrive here from their
breeding grounds In Alaska

and in the Canadian sub-arctic
having already flown a distance

of more than 2,000 miles.

They haven't slept
for three days.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
Once the birds arrive from
their breeding grounds

on our shores here,
they weigh about 20g.

That's less than an ounce,

so about the same weight
of a big strawberry.

NARRATOR: Young, small, and
hungry, the birds will spend the

next three weeks here restoring
their depleted energy.

They will fly for three days
non-stop to reach their

wintering grounds
in South America.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
I thought about the last time
I was on an airplane.

And the flight took about,
oh, two hours

and I felt pretty
tired at the end.

And I actually complained and--
so I'm very inspired by these

little semipalmated sandpipers,
who manage, you know,

weighing only 40g, and maybe
being only 16 cm long,

that they can fly all the
way to South America.

NARRATOR: The birds will
need to double their weight

before they set off on their
journey to South America.

The surging waters of the bay

sustain some of the richest
ecosystems on the planet.

Twice a day, high tides
kick up nutrients

from the depths
of the Atlantic

that feed an abundance of marine
life, like this humpback whale.

While low tides reveal miles
of ocean floor

that teem with tiny creatures,
like the mud snail.

Each day more than 160 billion
tons of water

funnel through
the Bay of Fundy.

It would take two years for
the same amount of water

to cascade over Niagara Falls.

The Bay of Fundy stretches
along 180 miles

of Canada's east coast.

Cradled between the provinces of
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.

Its mouth is 62 miles
wide and reaches depths

of more than 700 feet.

The name Fundy is thought to
date back to the 16th Century

when Portuguese explorers
first sailed across the bay.

They called it Rio Fundo:
Deep River.

The Bay's extremely high tides

are due to its length and
unusual funnel shape.

Water surging in from the
Atlantic flows into the basin.

As the bay gets
narrower and shallower,

there is no place for
the water to go but up.

Currents will rise
as high as 50 feet

along the coastline of the bay.

The planet's oceanic tides

are controlled by the
orbit of the moon.

High tide occurs on
the Bay of Fundy

when the moon is
directly overhead.

The gravitational force of the
moon pulls ocean currents

towards it,
creating a high swell.

Throughout the day, the earth
and moon rotate away from

one another, and the high swell
is released like a slingshot,

causing a tidal wave
into the bay.

The time it takes for this
wave to travel into the bay

then back out into the ocean
is the same amount of time

it takes the moon
to orbit the earth.

When the tide leaves the bay,
It collides with the high swell

caused by the next
gravitational pull of the moon,

once more forcing water
into the bay again.

GAUDET: It's called the seiche
effect, or the bathtub effect,

you know, when you get in a
bathtub and the water will go

like this; if you sit quietly it
levels out, if you push or move

a lot the water goes up further,
that's what the bay does.

The seiche effect or the
bathtub effect combined with the

shape of the bay causes
the huge, huge tides.

I'm completely enthralled
with the amount of water

that comes into this bay.

It just blows my mind.

NARRATOR: As the high tide
leaves the bay,

Fundy's muddy ocean floor
is exposed once again.

From a distance, the sea bottom
appears deserted.

Up close, the expansive tidal
flats of the upper Bay of Fundy

teem with life.

The extreme tides of the bay
whip up a perfect blend of

water, oxygen, and mud,
creating an ideal habitat

for marine creatures
like the mud snail.

These coastal wetlands,
called mudflats,

form in sheltered areas
like bays and estuaries

where tides and rivers
deposit mud.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
The mudflats may just look
like mud to most people,

but to me they're a velvety,
expansive, unique habitat.

NARRATOR: A complex food web
of Invertebrates and mollusks

is hidden in the mud.

A nutrient-rich broth,
called biofilm,

underpins the entire food web.

This soupy liquid brims
with microscopic organisms

that rely on the sun's
energy to grow.

At low tide, a one-mile
stretch of mudflat

receives direct sunlight,
making these coastal wetlands

one of the most
vibrant ecosystems in the bay.

Mud snails sail along
the slushy surface.

Each forages its own path
through the muck

to slurp up the
nutrient-rich biofilm.

Protected by a hard shell,

mud snails face little
threat from predators.

Tiny mud shrimp
hide out of sight.

They burrow in the mud to avoid
being eaten by the sandpipers.

There are as many as
600,000 mud shrimp

concealed in every
square foot of brown sludge.

But at high tide,
this tasty seafood buffet

is closed for business.

Thousands of hungry shorebirds

wait patiently for
the tide to retreat.

It will be another 6 hours
before they can eat again.

Playful sandpipers splash
in a shallow tidal pool.

For most, this time between
meals is a crucial rest period.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
They come up onto the shore
and a lot of times

stand on one foot, tuck their
little beak in under their wing

and remain as still as possible

so that they can
conserve energy.

It's what we call roosting.

The birds cannot swim or
cannot eat at high tide,

so they get in these
massive protective flocks.

NARRATOR: As the tide
edges further ashore,

the sandpipers crowd
the pebbled beach.

But while the shorebirds
wait for low tide,

another bird is eyeing them.

The wooded outskirts of the
mudflats are the nesting grounds

for the world's
fastest predator.

Nearly as fast as a Formula One
race car, the peregrine falcon

Is one of the most accomplished
hunters on the mudflats.

The sandpipers sense danger.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
These little tiny birds
move as one huge organism.

I don't know how they do it.

You can see 10,000 birds
flying at the same time

in this unison formation.

It's kind of a dance in the sky,
like an aerial ballet.

Flying in these
miraculous formations

that I sometimes think look
like the Northern Lights.

So that is actually
a defense mechanism

for these little sandpipers.

NARRATOR:
Like a school of fish in the
sky, the flock twists and turns

through the air,
confusing its predators.

But in this case the predator
does not leave empty handed.

This peregrine falcon
flies off with a sandpiper

clutched in its talons.

As the tide begins to ebb,

the sandpipers follow the
retreating water line,

bobbing their beaks in
and out of the mud.

The semipalmated
sandpiper is named

for the webbing
between its toes.

This tissue makes
it well-equipped

to tread along the surface of
the mudflats without sinking.

As the tide recedes,
the birds spread out.

Each mines its own
section of the beach.

Sandpipers use the
tips of their bills

to pluck invertebrates
out of their burrows.

One bird can eat as many
as 20,000 mud shrimp

in a single tidal cycle.

With a 2500-mile journey
on the horizon,

stocking up on food is
essential for survival.

MORRIS-CORMIER:
Every single bird's
vulnerability is felt,

and you can connect
with these little birds

and be inspired by them.

NARRATOR: As the sun descends
on the gleaming mudflats

and night sets in for most,
the birds will continue

to fuel up for their
great migration.

Across the bay, sandstone
statues sculpted by the tides

stand on one of the Bay of
Fundy's most iconic shorelines:

the Hopewell Rocks.

GAUDET:
What we have here, that's
better than many other places

in the bay, is we have sea
stacks that are great

measuring sticks for people to
see the vertical manifestation

of the tide, which is
absolutely amazing.

NARRATOR: Here, the tides
climb 46 feet up the sea stacks

and wash over more than
6 miles of mudflats.

Wind, rain, and the
restless tides of the bay

carve these unique formations.

Water trickles down
vertical fissures in cliffs,

prying cracks open.

Over thousands of years, large
blocks of rock separate from

adjoining cliffs and powerful
tides carve away at their base,

shaping the
top-heavy formations

known today as the
flowerpot rocks.

The term came from a single sea
stack shaped like a flowerpot.

The nickname stuck,
and today, all sea stacks

in the Bay of Fundy are
referred to as flowerpot rocks,

though only one truly
resembles a flowerpot.

GAUDET: Well, there's one person
who's responsible for this,

and guess who it
was: Robert Ripley.

Ripley's Believe it or Not
was here in the 1930s.

I don't know if he coined the
expression, but he certainly

popularized it, by calling
that rock the flowerpot rock,

and ever since then, people
have referred to them

as flowerpot rocks.

NARRATOR:
Each of the 17 flowerpot rocks
is as unique as a fingerprint.

As the tide retreats to
expose the mudflats,

visitors are able to walk on
miles of ocean floor that

just hours ago were submerged
deep below the Atlantic.

A deep-set cave hollowed out by
the powerful force of the tide

accompanies the sea stacks.

GAUDET: One of my favorite spots
is in the huge sea cave,

and that is the most
glowing or the best example

of appreciation of how
high the tide comes

'cause you're standing up
there where those holes are

and you're looking down at
low tide and you're thinking

the water actually comes up
here and made these holes.

NARRATOR: The surging waters
of Fundy's ceaseless tides

wear away softer layers
of sandstone rock,

leaving the tougher
layers unsupported.

Eventually, chunks of the
harder rock collapse, creating

small caves that grow larger as
pounding waters erode the rock.

Barnacles and snails
are left exposed

on the porous sandstone cave.

Seaweed that stood tall in an
underwater forest just hours ago

now becomes a carpet, soaking up
the sunlight it needs to grow.

And the red cliffs
of the bay contrast

with the bright green mosses
that blanket the caves.

It is a marine habitat,

temporarily accessible to
terrestrial visitors.

Soon, their footsteps will be
erased by the rising tide

of the bay.

And the caves will
once again fill with water.

GAUDET: Walking the beach
is fascinating

and seeing it at high
tide is fascinating.

And another component to
that is going kayaking.

Because the kayakers can go
to places and touch things

that you as a
pedestrian cannot.

NARRATOR: Amanda Harrington
is an adventure guide

and avid sea kayaker who
has paddled these waters

since she was a teen.

HARRINGTON:
Just to be out in the nature
and to be on the water,

I get to share the
nature that people

don't get to see
on a regular basis.

It's kind of unexplored
because the Bay of Fundy

is very unpredictable
half the time.

NARRATOR: The climate on the
Bay of Fundy is temperamental

and can change in a heartbeat.

Sudden fog can disorient
and threaten the safety

of those on the water.

HARRINGTON: You're always
constantly thinking ahead,

because you have to be one step
ahead of the Bay of Fundy,

because you never know
what it can throw at you
from day to day.

NARRATOR: As fog rolls over the
bay, a thick blanket of mist

cloaks the dense,
coastal forest.

The feathery needles of
towering red spruce

comb through the
particles of mist,

collecting water on the
tip of each needle.

These drops fall onto a canopied
forest floor, watering a dense,

green carpet of moss.

The Acadian Fog Forest
of Fundy National Park

is the intersection where boreal
forest species from the north

meet temperate trees
from the south.

It is a rare and special
environment shaped by the tides.

High tides on the Bay of Fundy
keep the water cool year round.

Twice a day, cold water from
the Atlantic moves in and out

of the bay.

With no time to warm up,
water temperatures here change

by less than 20 degrees
Fahrenheit

between summer and winter.

The Acadian fog forest
clings to the coastline,

thriving on the fog exhaled
from the mouth of the bay

as humid summer air
hits the cool water,

initiating the water
cycle of this park.

PHILLIPS: You get this beautiful
rocky cliff habitat and areas

where the forest comes
down and meets the ocean.

These beautiful, majestic, huge
estuaries that have lots of

salt marsh, where so many
birds and other animals

use as refuge.

There's just so much diversity
along the coast.

And the tide is constantly
reshaping those things.

NARRATOR: The fog forest
stretches from the marine coast

of the Bay of Fundy up to
the Caledonia Highlands

nearly 1000 feet
above the coastline.

A high wetland lake is
crowded with mosses

and littered with deadwood.

Dragonflies buzz around
the coarse grasses.

A determined frog sits
still in the shallow water.

It waits for the right moment
to pounce on its prey.

One of the many insects
that hover over the lake.

Life on the marshland is hard.

The bog is highly acidic,
low in nutrients,

and home to some
surprising predators.

The carnivorous sundew plant
uses sticky secretions

to trap insects.

The juice of the pitcher plant
attracts, then dissolves,

unsuspecting prey.

These bog plants have evolved
in fascinating ways,

ensuring their survival.

But the star of the bog
is the green carpet

under these grasses,
called sphagnum moss.

Capable of soaking up to 20
times its weight in water,

sphagnum moss is so
absorbent it was used

to bandage wounded soldiers
in the First World War.

The spongy moss is the
foundation of this marshland

and regulates the park's most
precious resource: water.

During the rainy season
the moss soaks up water.

During a drought, the water
drains out of the bog,

gradually seeping into
small streams below.

Water descends from the
Caledonia Highlands plateau,

cascading over waterfalls
into a deep-set ravine.

A tiny community of creatures
and plants sprayed by the

gentle mist of the waterfall
thrives under the canopy.

This is Dickson Brook Falls.

Its steep valley
walls shelter a

variety of shade-tolerant
plants, each fighting

for a small piece of real estate
in a competitive market.

PHILLIPS:
Just like the forest, you've got
different levels of the canopy,

different tree species that
are able to outcompete others

and get up into the light,

but the same thing happens
in the understory.

And down at Dickson Falls you
have lots of different ferns

that have the ability to grow
up much higher than the mosses

and lichens around them.

NARRATOR: The rock polypody fern
has a competitive edge:

it grows straight out
of the cliff,

shading out
other species below.

PHILLIPS:
All these species they start off
very shade-tolerant themselves

because they're under
the canopy of the trees.

But then as you go
down through the layers,

you have to be more
and more shade-tolerant

and survive with less
and less light.

NARRATOR: Mosses like sphagnum
prefer cool, shady conditions

and dominate this ravine.

A partnership between fungi and
algae creates a special organism

called lichen.

Though lichens grow everywhere,
they go largely unnoticed.

PHILLIPS: If you look at
the bark of most trees,

you're not actually looking
at the bark of the tree;

you're just looking at a
community of lichens.

And the closer you get to that
tree you'll find completely

different communities on
the different species

and those lichens are
all competing for space

on the tree, on that bark,
or on a rock,

or wherever they're growing.

There's just an insane
amount of competition.

NARRATOR: The competitive
spirit of the lichens and
plants of the forest

sustains the health of
Dickson Brook Falls

and regulates its water cycle.

PHILLIPS: You'll see that
the water in that brook
is just crystal clear

because this community all
around there is capturing the

fog, holding on to the moisture,
filtering that rainwater,

filtering everything
as it goes down through.

And it all starts with
that plant community.

NARRATOR: The waters of the
brook flow into larger and
rockier rivers.

The beds of gravel below these
waters are important habitats

for spawning fish
like the Atlantic salmon.

Finally, these rivers
flow out into estuaries

where they feed back
into the mouth of the bay.

One of nature's expert fishers,
the great blue heron,

scans the estuary for prey.

As the tide pulls away, shallow
waters reveal enticing prey:

like small fish headed for
inland rivers to spawn.

The heron patrols the bay.

No fish comes within range,
and it decides to try its luck

on the other side
of the channel.

The heron has a wingspan
of nearly seven feet.

Its long neck tucks into
an S shape in flight

for greater aerodynamics.

The heron seems to
have spotted its prey.

Soon, this estuary will once
again fill with water,

and a thick fog will
roll in with the tide,

exhaling its misty breath
into the Acadian forest,

starting this water
cycle all over again.

Across the bay,
the retreating tide

reveals a much different
forest, fossil by fossil.

These are the
Joggins Fossil Cliffs.

Traces of ancient plants that
once stood as tall as 10-story

buildings are fossilized
in the walls of these cliffs.

This jagged bluff, nine miles
long, provides a window

into our planet's past more
than 300 million years ago.

A time known as the
Carboniferous period.

Millions of years ago, the
mosses of Fundy National Park

would have
looked much different.

FAULKNER: The typical mosses
that you would see

growing on the forest floor,
that's the size they are now.

But back in the carboniferous,
tissues that grew like that

grew up to 30 meters
in height or higher.

NARRATOR: Unlike the plants
in shaded Dickson Brooke Falls,

the mosses that grew in
this sun-filled ancient forest

had no need to compete
for sunlight and space,

so they grew to
monster proportions.

These supersized plants

generated high concentrations
of oxygen: 50 percent more

than what is in the
earth's atmosphere today.

In this hyper-oxygenated
environment, insects thrived.

Most insects are able
to take in oxygen

at a rate much higher
than other creatures.

They do not have lungs.

Instead, tubes all
over their bodies

deliver oxygen to each cell.

With more oxygen penetrating
their deepest cells,

insects evolved to
horror-movie dimensions.

FAULKNER: What we're looking at
here on this slab of sandstone

are two rows of ripples that
you can pretty distinctly see

right here, almost looks like
a stroller or something

was pushed over this rock.

But these are track ways
called diplichnites,

formed by a giant millipede
called arthropleura,

This is actually the
largest land invertebrate

that we know has ever existed.

NARRATOR:
This monstrous millipede
grew as long as 7 feet.

The Carboniferous Period
is known as the Coal Age.

Over millions of years,
heat and pressure converted

prehistoric plants into the
coal still used as fuel today.

FAULKNER:
What coal is, it's not a rock,
it's actually just the carbon

that's left over
from ancient vegetation.

So it's a huge mat of
ancient vegetation

that had a chance
to rot as one unit.

So peat moss essentially.

In Nova Scotia, there's
been a lot of coal Mining,

so that's what a lot of
people here had known

for a very long time.

REID: I started in the
coal business in 1939

and I did that till 1960.

You see the timber sand
in there?

My dad used to work there.

What we're looking at here is a
drain from the old coal mine.

This used to be the old pier
that they used to load coal

when the ships
come in for coal.

When everybody used
coal for cooking, eat--

But them days is gone.

I can't walk this
beach with my head up.

My head is always down looking.

And if I see something I
think is good to pick up,

like a piece like this.

Now, that piece used to be the
bottom of the lake at one time,

and it's-- you turn it over,

you see all the
little-- that's feces.

Fish poop.

That's 300 million years old.

See that little cracks in there?

You keep tapping it,
it'll break open for ya,

and I'll show ya what's inside.

You see there's some
more stuff inside there.

And when you break a
rock and look at it,

you're the first person
that ever seen that.

You find scales, you find teeth.

Wow.
Just like opening a storybook.

And it's a great feeling.

Stand and look and wondering
what took place back then,

300 million years ago.

That's why I love it here.

I keep looking and wondering.

Scratching my head all the time.

Trying to figure out
what took place.

What it really looked like.

It was mossy, freshwater lakes.

The plants was huge.

Even the bugs we find is big.

Not like today.

I found a mayfly, back
then they were that wide.

Today they're like a mosquito.

NARRATOR:
In 2008 this coal-age Galapagos
was named a World Heritage Site

for its rich fossil record.

The first major discovery
was made on this beach in 1859.

An associate of Charles Darwin
used dynamite to excavate

the bones of the earliest known
reptile ever discovered.

It was the missing link between
amphibians and vertebrates

that moved onto land.

Today, the cliffs are
excavated naturally

by Fundy's 40 foot-tall tides,

allowing researchers to pull
fossils without digging.

FAULKNER: Way back
during the Carboniferous,

Joggins was situated
right in the center

between the newly
formed Appalachian range.

So huge Appalachian
mountains all around us.

We were on a
sinking block of land

between some
mountains actually.

So we were the lowest point.

And all of the sediment that was
coming down from those mountains

and being carried by all
of the meandering rivers

and the fast rivers and
everything like that

was all being deposited at the
lowest point, which was us.

So we get so many layers
of rock there because

of all that sedimentation that
was constantly happening.

This formation didn't
really have a choice

but to buckle into that basin.

It's bowl-shaped and that's
why these layers are tilted.

They're all in chronological
order so you can walk back

15 million years by going
straight up the beach

and not digging down.

Every kilometer
is a million years.

You're actually walking through
the evolution of some groups

of plants and animals.

NARRATOR:
Twelve miles off the coast of
Nova Scotia is a reminder

of the Bay of Fundy's
turbulent geological past.

Isle Haute.

OSTERMANN: That's part of
the fun of going there.

To get a step back in time

and understand a
little bit about it.

It's a special place in the
middle of the Bay of Fundy,

17 kilometer out in the
fog here behind me.

NARRATOR: More than
150 million years ago

the ancient supercontinent
of Pangea broke apart.

A rift formed, creating two
landmasses: one including

present-day Africa; the other
including North America.

As the rift pushed the
two plates apart,

the pressure triggered
volcanic eruptions,

burying southern Nova Scotia
under a layer of magma.

Over time, lava solidified
into basalt.

The entire island is made up
of this volcanic rock.

Isle Haute is one of the
most prominent islands

in the upper Bay of Fundy.

Its thousand-foot vertical
cliffs rise from the water,

veiled by a sheet
of thick Fundy fog.

A colony of grey seals
patrols the waters,

and lush, green vegetation
claims the land.

OSTERMANN:
Beauty and dramatic rock
formations, seals popping up.

The scent.

It is just a very unique spot.

And then we're in a busy
world, where there's actually

very few spots where there's
no development, no action,

it's just so calm.

And just feel it, it has
allure and a meaning

for people around the bay.

NARRATOR: Though now a
peaceful retreat, Isle Haute

and its surrounding waters were
once among the most treacherous

places in the
upper Bay of Fundy.

In 1604, the French explorer
Samuel De Champlain

first laid eyes on the island.

He called it Isle Haute,
High Island,

for its tall, vertical cliffs.

OSTERMANN: I know now it was
not foggy when he found it.

He would never
have made it then.

He would either have grounded
his ship and been in bad shape

or not found it at all.

It's fairly small, like just an
kilometer-and-a-half in length

and much less in width, so
a slim little baby out there.

NARRATOR:
In the golden age of the sail,
nearly everything moved by

way of water, and Isle Haute was
an obstacle for passing ships.

OSTERMANN: There is a perilous
place around Isle Haute.

It has a long hook shape
out in the Bay of Fundy.

So you have deep water
on each side,

and then this
gravel bar sticks out.

And that can be a very
difficult to navigate around

and it creates tidal rips
at certain conditions.

So it was a very dangerous
place to navigate around.

NARRATOR: For nearly 100 years,
a lighthouse on the island

alerted incoming
ships to danger.

But the solitary life
of a lighthouse keeper

on remote Isle Haute
was a hard one.

When the lighthouse burnt down,

the island became once
again uninhabited.

Back on shore, one of
the oldest lighthouses

on the Bay of Fundy
coast still stands,

reminding mariners of the many
ships that have wrecked here.

One of the most hazardous
stretches on the waters

of the upper Bay of Fundy
is Cape Enrage,

named for the turbulent
waters that pass over

this jagged reef jutting
sharply into the bay.

For one hundred years,
the Bay of Fundy

served as a marine highway that
connected Canada's east coast

to the world's major seaports.

People marked time by the turn
of the tide, and still do today.

OSTERMANN:
Everybody who makes their living
on the water like I do,

they know that you have to
work when it's possible.

The fishermen here
know it more than most.

(Foghorn blowing)

NARRATOR:
In the early morning, a
colorful fleet of fishing boats

waits in the bay for
the tide to rise

and fill the empty
harbor with water.

WITHERS: For us here, we
don't have a 9 to 5 job.

We run by the tides.

NOFTELL:
You only have so much time
to get the boat in, boat out,

and then when you're out on
the water, you're dictated

by the bay; there's no
way to get around it.

The tides govern your lifestyle,
they govern the job,

and some days you think you're
coming in at a certain time,

you miss the tide, guess what?

You're out for
another 12 hours,

so there's no way you're
working around it.

Tides control your job.

Sometimes it's smooth sailing,

sometimes it's
rougher than hell.

NARRATOR: Modern fishing boats
are outfitted with tools

to aid navigation and avoid the
perils that wrecked the ships

of those who came before them.

WITHERS:
At times here in the Bay of
Fundy it can get quite foggy.

But you're prepared for it
because we use a lot of

electronics like radar
and GPS and sounders

and that's what
you use to just--

almost like playing a video
game when you're out there.

You can't see nothing but --
just dots on the screens.

NOFTELL: It has a draw on ya
and you can't explain that

until you've been out on it.

The water, the smells,
the sounds.

Bay of Fundy is the best spot
in the world to work.

NARRATOR:
From coastal flatlands to
towering sandstone sea stacks,

the landscapes on
the Bay of Fundy

change with the
turn of the tide.

OSTERMANN: It's like things
get revealed;

you're allowed to see inside
a crystal ball or something.

NARRATOR: It is a landscape
where powerful currents

unearth 300 million-year-old
mysteries.

REID:
As long as I can walk, and keep
walking, I'll look for fossils.

Who knows how many
secrets is in this cliff?

And we're gonna find them.

NARRATOR: Fog breathes new life
into old-growth forests.

Shorelines teem with wildlife,
and communities are governed

by the rhythm of the
world's highest tides.

(♪♪♪)

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