Wining & Dining on the Shores of P.E.I. by Cinda Chavich

The paddle dips. The boat rolls. The head lolls. The gentle rock of an ocean kayak in clam waters is as mesmerizing, as a cradle and I found myself almost dozing as we skimmed the shoreline of Prince Edward Island in the hot August sunshine.

The occasion was the annual Wind, Wine, Water & Starry Skies trip created by Bryon Howard of P.E.I's Outside Expeditions.

I had no idea how well the experience would match with his glossy brochure's promise of "healthy outdoor activity combined with fine dining and great wines" but I was not to be disappointed.

The seas were calm, the sun was hot and constant, and the paddling almost effortless as we made our way through the warm, glassy waters of P.E.I.'s northeast shore. And every night we were hosted to a dinner created on the beach by Calgary cook and wine expert Peggy Perry. Howard's Maritime-born sister.

From grilled Atlantic Salmon in mustard and fennel marinade and mussel bruschetta spiked with tart sorrel leaves to grilled P.E.I. scallops skewered with wild bay leaf and Malpeques on the half shell. Perry took her native ingredients to new heights and showed participants how to use the bounty of fresh and wild foods this tiny island province has to offer.

We all had a hand at shucking the briney oysters that come from P.E.I.'s Malpeque Bay, while Perry offered a simple explanation of the California Vendage Chardonnay she paired with them. Salmon filet, fresh from the local waters, roasted beets and other island vegetables were served from the improvised seaside grill.

Later we gathered around a driftwood fire for chunks of strong cheese, Blue Ermite from Quebec and Burgundy's famed Epoisse, while we sipped ruby port and marvelled at how the Milky Way joined the far-off horizons in a shimmery streak.

Sea kayaking is not something this prairie-born scribe has ever experienced before - but the experience here is "grand," as they say on P.E.I.

Not only is this island a microcosm of slow-moving rural life that brings a sudden (and needed) shock to the city system, it's as pretty as any of the postcards you've seen. Colorful shanties dot the village wharves, pretty white farm houses overlook the ocean on rolling greens and cliffs of iron-rich red sandstone cut down to the aquamarine sea.

Ocean currents truly do make the water "as warm as bath water" and anyone familiar with similar trips on the West coast will be pleasantly surprised by the comfort and ease of east-coast paddling.

The weather was unusually hot and dry for my four-day ocean cruise - never was it necessary to don a paddling jacket or anything more than rubber sandals for our feet. The red sand beaches where we stopped to camp were as soft as powder under bare feet, so the requisite West coast rubber boots languished in the bottom of my boat. Even at night, when mosquitoes and deer flies took their turn at eating us, it was too warm to resist with extra layers of clothing.

We put in at Newport, near Cardigan and Brudenell River Provincial Park, paddling out to a deserted beach on the tiny Boughton Island for our first night at camp.

Our tents were set in the red dunes among the spikey Marram grass. Lobster traps,; washed in during a recent storm, made a perfect surface for a makeshift kitchen.

Our second night took us to a narrow beach on Spry Point, where wild blueberries and bay leaves were collected for our next meals, naturally-glowing, microscopic dinoflageolots sparked in the inky night waters like stars and the incoming tide lapped only a few feet from our tents, lulling us into sleep.

The third day of paddling took us to the Inn at Bay Fortune where the New York chef Michael Smith cooked our dinner, creative and elegant cuisine based on products from P.E.I. and his own oceanside gardens. Then it was back to our boats for a final paddle into the ferry terminal at Souris, crowded with travellers headed to the Iles-de-la-Madeleine.

The ocean is fairly shallow along much of the coastline here, and we could see the ripples in the russet sand below our boats as we skimmed the surface. Big grape-colored jelly fish - the dreaded "Red Monsters" with the nastiest sting from their long ruby tentacles - dotted the shallow water, the only "predator" we were wary of during the trip. There are no bears or raccoons here to ravage camp kitchens at night, no need to pack up and hid the edibles or worry about what's left in the tent.

Swimming or wading in the warm ocean currents, you can watch small crabs scurry sideways along the sandy bottom and feel little shrimp investigating your toes. When you see the tell-tale holes and bubbles, a few scoops of the shovel will reveal soft shell clams. In chest-high water, you may find a lobster or two for the pot, as Howard did during one of his early morning swims.

As you paddle, there are other natural sights to thrill and amaze - a flock of skinny black cormorants nesting with their young in craggy red cliffs, a bald eagle rising from a nearby rock with a bloody carcass in its talons, the upturned nose of a curious seal bobbing in the water a stone's throw away from our approaching boats.

Paddling a kayak really is as easy as riding a bike - and the pushing and pulling motion you make with your arms is almost the same as peddling. It's an almost effortless motion in calm waters, more challenging in swells or paddling against the wind.

You will feel the muscles tighten in your shoulders and forearms as your paddles cut through the water in rhythmic circles. But many in our group wondered how many of the decadent dinner calories we were actually burning in the six to nine miles of easy coastal paddling which were completed each day.

Howard admitted he held back a bit on the paddling for our group of wine-swilling neophytes, but said the beauty of sea kayaking is the sheer relaxation that comes from setting a leisurely pace.

That's what I'll remember about this first foray into Maritime waters - the wind in my salt-streaked hair, the glitter of the deep blue water ahead and the sleepy pace of P.E.I.