Ten Minutes That Way

Our Island is small, and crisscrossed by roads. Getting from one place to another depends on personal whims and entrenched biases rather than an intelligent preference for efficiency. Immune to the tedium of route numbers, an Islander gives directions more akin to alchemy than simple rote instruction.

“If you see a little white church on a hill … you went too far”

“Up West? Follow the signs until you get to Summerside, then keep driving”

“It’s on a dirt road. Third house on the right”

“I would cut across at Hunter River … it’s a lot quicker”

“When you get to Tignish it’s near Johnny Pump’s corner”

“Halfways between Souris and Montague”

“Which Rustico?

“Down East or Up East?”

Visitors to Prince Edward Island desperate enough to stop and ask for directions are usually most of the way to their destination and so are met with a singular and definitive response: “Ten minutes that way”, and a hearty point of the finger.

Ten Minutes That Way

Fold up your fancy map my friend You’re on Prince Edward Isle Turn off your GPS my dear Stop fiddling with the dial You’re going to need directions Pull over on the side And ask a local what’s the fastest way To Summerside

Chorus: They’ll say “Ten minutes that way You can’t miss it You’ll never stump an Islander They’re always “in the know” Ten minutes that way If you miss it Find an Islander to tell you where to go”

You can tell your navigator Sit back put up your feet You can tell your back seat driver Lie down and go to sleep You’re going to need directions So flag a local down And ask them what’s the fastest way To get to Charlottetown

Chorus

You’ll have to take the shortcut The highway’s far too slow Turn left at the little red barn The one that burned two years ago And if you hit a roundabout And think you’ve gone too far Just find another Islander To tell you where you are

Chorus