Cape Breton Retrospective

We have kind of fallen behind in blogging, and I've noticed that a lot of what I've written has been status, planning, date & place kind of stuff and I'd like to change gears a bit.

We had a beautiful ride on Sat, taking part of the Sunrise Trail - this kind of riding is perfect for the 125's - you get to take in all of the scenery, and play to the little bike's strengths instead of its weaknesses. The bikes do just dandy up to 80 kph, which is well-suited to the scenic trail roads. We enjoyed the flowing roads (much like in Adirondacks Park), and took the time to shoot some photos - some of which have turned out very well and we're looking forward to posting them. We took a break in Antigonish, which was a bit special for two reasons - first, it's the first time we've had a really good-looking waitress on the whole trip so far. Secondly, it's the hometown of The Trews! I don't know if they ever play there anymore, but I'd love a chance to ride around there again and see them live somewhere in town.

Cape Breton is different from Nova Scotia - the Atlantic has an omnipresent quality there - you're always aware of it even when you can't directly see or hear it. The air smells different, the sky and the plants seem somehow different, and the locals seem a bit tougher and more open. I believe that the population on CB is older also. Even with all of the tourists, it's got an amazing untouched quality. As one example, there are no McDonald's restaurants anywhere near the Cabot Trail area where we were. I don't dislike McD's, but I do see it as a symptom of a creeping homogenized culture (or lack of it). Of course, that homogeneity is mitigated by stuff like McLobster!

One of the things that struck me in NS on the scenic trails was that many of the signs of place names are in both English and Gaelic. I can't say why exactly, but something about seeing that made me really happy. I guess I just really like the idea of elements of Gaelic culture transplanted from Scotland surviving for hundreds of years in an environment with a lot of other cultural influences.

The other thing was the obvious natural beauty. It's cliched (and inaccurate) to talk about regions like this as unspoiled, but that's really how it felt and something about moving through that space is good for the soul. It gave me a vague sense of connection to something I would otherwise have no connection to.

Along with the Atlantic, there's one other thing that pervaded my perception of NS: churches. In what we saw, the mean distance between churches couldn't have been more than 10 miles. It would be hard to find a place more than a 1 hour walk from some form of church, I think.

On Sunday, we started out a bit concerned and disappointed that the weather was shaping up to be pretty cold and wet on the day we were planning to ride around the 180 miles / 290 km loop of the Cabot Trail. Even so, we decided to go for it, and I'm glad that we did. The riding was similar to on the scenic trails on the main NS island, but with much greater elevation changes, and more exposure to the Atlantic. Going up Cape Smokey we encountered white-out fog at an elevation of about 200m. It was an intense way for Yi to be learning to navigate switchbacks up and down a mountain, but she has already internalized the Golden Rule of riding on public roads: If you can't see the road, BACK OFF until you know the way is clear. She did great and I was very impressed and proud of her.

A bit under 1/2 of the way around, we stopped at Ingonish for a much-needed warmup session and some lunch in the Seagull restaurant. We found that they had wireless internet there and shot off a few emails and did a quick blog update. It was kind of funny to find that there was WiFi but no cell reception - not even enough to send a txt message!

As we went north up the coast, the weather got worse, and the riding through the highlands and up and down the mountains on the west side were alternately elating and scary. I can't count the times that I was sure that the weather had broken and we were in good shape for the rest of the ride, only to come upon more fog, wind, or rain elsewhere. At one point in the highlands, we stopped to check out a gift shop, use the bathroom, and make some adjustments to the helmet cam. Inside, we found a bunch of cheap tacky crap... And a really wonderful book called "The Cabot Trail in Black and White" - a collection of stories and photographs dating to the early 20th century collected from old residents in the 80's. More on that book later.

The wind was coming from the northeast, and I assumed that as we went down the west coast, we'd be sheltered from the wind in the lee side of the mountains. Wow, I couldn't have been more wrong. The crosswinds as we got down near the ocean gusted to at least 50-60 mph by my estimation. During bad storms, it's known to blow at over 100 mph. The locals didn't consider Sunday's wind bad by those standards, but they certainly had a healthy respect for it.

I will never know if I would (or could) have continued the last 90 km if I was on my own, because I wasn't on my own and by far my biggest concern was doing what I could to keep Yi safe. Lest that sound like a cop-out, let me say that it was one of the scariest rides of my life, and the last bit of it just plain sucked. There are challenging rides that energize you, and ones that seem to drain the life right out of you, and I found this one to be an example of the latter. I did want to stop as I was wet and freezing (12C and rain for hour after hour makes a warm room seem awfully appealing), and I couldn't imagine Yi being any warmer or drier.

Despite already having a room full of our stuff waiting for us back at the Trailsman, we decided to spend the night at Laurie's Motel in Cheticamp and wait out the storm. Once settled we began to read stories out of that book, and many of them had a ring similar to what we were experiencing ourselves. None of the stories were about picnics on sunny days on the trail - it seems that they were mainly about people struggling to do their best against capricious elements. I felt like we were getting a small taste of the real Cape Breton experience - a mix of discomfort, mortal danger, and adventure brought on by the landscape and the whims of the wind and water.

While at the nearby Tim's, I decided to tap some local knowledge. The place was full of old guys speaking French, so I asked some if they spoke English so I could learn a bit about reading the weather to get us back safe to Baddeck eventually. They told us that we had already come through the worst part - that the mountains tend to compress and funnel the wind, so that when it reaches the coast, it blasts out through the passes at high speeds. So if the wind was calm in Cheticamp, we should be fine to ride back to Baddeck without fear of being surprised again by debilitating storms. They also said that we had made the right choice to stop - the wind wasn't as bad as it gets there, but it was too bad for bikes - especially little ones like ours.

We got lucky and at 6:30 this morning the wind was calm and the rain had stopped. It was still damn cold but we were rolling by 7:00 and back in our main motel room by 8:30. One adventure concluded, but still a lot to get done this day and in the ones following!