Original subtitles

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.

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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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