Cape Breton Island

It was a dreary day to leave PEI, but there was no reason to stay. The Aussie couple caught a ride with me to Nova Scotia. M, the Canadian girl was getting off near Highway 3 because she was going to Souris to catch the ferry to Iles de la Madelaine to take a plane back to Montreal. B decided at the last moment to catch a ride with me to NS. So they all piled into my car. It would only be cramped until M got off.

The ferry ride was longer than from Cape Tormentine to Borden, but I disliked doubling back so I felt it was worth the extra time and cost. The ride was unremarkable and weather even more dreary by the time we reached the mainland. Close to lunchtime, I left the Aussies on the main highway to Halifax, near a diner. They gave me their address in Australia, in case I was ever in that part of the world again. B got off near the Canso Causeway.

Once I reached the causeway, the scenery got more interesting. Northern NS is Cape Breton Island, joined to the mainland by a 2 km causeway. What's more the island has a partial salt lake, the Bras d'Or, running through the centre. This as you may imagine, makes the scenery magnificent.

I was trying to reach the Seal Island hostel before dark. It was no problem, but first there was a diversion, the Alexander Graham Bell national historic site.

The museum is in Baddeck and really interesting. Bell tinkered with many things besides telephones. It was an age when inventors didn't work for big corporations.

Near Baddeck I picked up an interesting hitch hiker, carrying a briefcase. He was a worker from near North Sydney (NS) who had been down in Halifax for a medical checkup. He told me how much he liked the Canadian welfare system. I later found out how concentrated the population of NS is in and around Halifax. Only about 10 towns in NS have a population of over 10,000.

The Seal Island hostel was actually a camp ground with one building set aside for hostellers. There was no heating. I made dinner from the rest of my provisions and some that I bought from the camp store. When you shop for oneself, invariably the portions are too large and you eat the same thing (haddock, in my case) for a couple of days. I still had the haddock when I reached Halifax and it was about to really go bad then so I made a stew of it.

Just before the hostel was a low hill about 300 metres high. The overview of the Bras d'Or was magnificent. It was also the most beautiful hour of the day, dusk. By nightfall, a motorcyclist I had met in Campbelton arrived too. I had a magnificent view of the stars. The Milky Way could be plainly seen. Unfortunately I did not have a star map handy and it was cold so I crawled into my sleeping bag and dozed off.