22/12/2025
We arrived at Peggy’s Cove under a sky that couldn’t quite decide what it wanted to be. Clouds rolled in thick and dramatic, then split open just enough to let sunlight spill across the granite rocks like a quiet blessing. The lighthouse stood ahead of us, small but resolute, as if it had been waiting for our visit all along.
We followed the winding path together, the sound of the ocean growing louder with every step. Waves crashed against the rocks with a force that demanded respect. The warning signs were there for a reason—people have perished here ignoring them. The air was tinged with salt and the chill of the sea, crisp and electric, while the wind tugged at our shirts, drawing us toward the edge—close enough to marvel, yet ever aware of Mother Nature’s immense power, which shows no mercy.
People moved slowly here. Some stood silently, some laughed, some raised cameras, but everyone seemed to share the same unspoken understanding: this place asks you to pause and respect it. "We climbed the smooth granite, tracing cracks and marveling at how the rocks had been sculpted and carved by the relentless force of Mother Nature over many hundreds of years.
When we finally stopped and looked back, the lighthouse framed by sea and sky, it felt like time had softened. "Peggy’s Cove wasn’t just another stop—it was a reminder that the beauty and power of nature are as humbling as they are breathtaking."
