Prince Edward Island National Park - Greenwich

This morning, after a restorative night at Misa and perhaps a morning dip in the thermal pools, you're just minutes away from one of Prince Edward Island's most spectacular natural wonders. Drive less than 10 minutes—or if you're feeling adventurous, it's about 30 minutes by bicycle along the active transportation route. You're heading to the Greenwich Dunes Trail, where the land performs its slowest, most beautiful dance.

Look at how the marram grass clings to the dunes' edges, holding the sand in place with its deep roots. See how smooth the dune face is on one side—the slip face, where sand cascades down grain by grain—and rippled on the other, where wind has traced its invisible fingers.

Scientists believe these dunes began forming about 3,000 years ago. Think about that. While civilizations rose and fell, while humans built and dreamed and loved and lost, these dunes were slowly, patiently building themselves, one grain at a time.

Follow the boardwalk. It's designed to protect the fragile dune ecosystem while giving you intimate access to this wonder. The trail is just more than four kilometers round trip, floating-boardwalk over wetlands, sandy path through coastal forest, and then—this. The dunes. The beach beyond. The Gulf of Saint Lawrence stretching to the horizon.

As you walk, notice the quiet sounds. The whisper of wind through marram grass. The distant cry of a heron. Your own footsteps on the boardwalk, a gentle percussion.

There's something about dunes that invites reflection. They're solid but always shifting. They're ancient but constantly renewing. They're shaped by forces they cannot control—wind, tide, time—yet they endure, adapting, transforming, becoming something new while remaining essentially themselves.

Isn't that what this whole journey has been about? Coming to Prince Edward Island, not to escape yourself, but to reconnect with yourself. Not to become someone new, but to shed what no longer serves and reveal what was always underneath.

At Chez Spa, Anne Marie taught you that wellness begins with intention. On the Confederation Trail, you learned that healing happens in motion. At The Still Path, Jeannie showed you the power of true stillness. At Debbie's gallery, you saw beauty emerge from what others discard. At the International Children's Memorial Place, you made space for what's hard to hold. At Misa, you experienced the luxury of simply being.

And now, here at Greenwich, the Island offers you its final teaching: patience. These dunes didn't rush. They took three thousand years to become what they are. And they're not finished. They're still changing, still growing, still becoming.

So, take this with you as you leave Prince Edward Island: Wellness isn't a destination. It's not something you achieve and check off your list. It's a slow, patient process of becoming—like wind shaping sand, like water shaping stone, like time shaping a life into something beautiful.

When you're ready, walk down to the beach. Feel the sand between your toes. Let the Gulf breeze lift your hair. Stand at the edge of the water and breathe—deeply, gratefully, knowing you came here seeking wellness and found something more.

You found yourself. 

Welcome home.