Cabot Trail

The day started slowly but turned out to be the high point of my trip. Unfortunately my camera batteries gave out and I had to use manual setting. Fortunately I knew how to estimate exposure but I had to do some guessing for pictures taken in deep shade.

The Cabot Trail is reputed to be the most magnificent drive in North America. I could do clockwise or counter-clockwise. For no particular reason, I decided to go clockwise. This meant backtracking to Baddeck.

I passed a sign that said Crab Meat For Sale. Sure, why not? It was a house that sold food from the kitchen. The nice lady sold me a pound of crab legs for a dollar and a half, cold from the fridge.

I took them to a nearby overlook and ate them in view of the magnificent ocean. Best lunch I had on the trip.

The great scenery starts when you enter the National Park. The trail runs along the sea, combining views of land, sky and water.

Dotting the trail are information signs and entrances to walking trails. All these were noted in the guides I obtained at the visitor centre near the entrance. I didn't have time for even a medium length trail, but I found a few short ones.

One view pointed out 3 kinds of rocks in the scene, igneous, metamorphic and sedimentary. Another, Lone Shieling, explained maple and other trees. A lone shieling is a crofter's shelter in Scotland. The land was donated by a descendant in memory of the old country. Very educational. Well done, Parks Canada.

The Cabot trail is one that many cyclists dream of conquering someday. It is about 300 km long. I saw several brave souls along the way. Not easy, the ups are gruelling but the downs must be exhilarating!

After a whole day of superlative scenery, I found myself still within the National Park at about 4 in the afternoon. Many of the coves and inlets reminded me of Scotland, which of course is the origin of the province's name.

Up Kelly's Hill again, and at about 6 I was driving past North Sydney (NS).  There was no time for Louisbourg, a historic and doomed French settlement from the early 1700s.

I drove along the east bank of the Bras d'Or towards the Canso Causeway as dusk was falling, an ideal time.  I was sad to leave this lovely part of NS but I had to head for Antigonish because the nearest hostel was there.

I found the hostel in the dark, it was a trailer court and the dorm was a converted barn. I met the motorcyclist from Seal Island hostel again. Stop following me around, he joked. For dinner I gave in and went to a fast food outlet because there were no kitchen facilities. I was too tired anyway. At least there was a good hot shower, even if it was coin operated.

A German girl staying in the hostel was doing a bit of travelling on her way back home from Vancouver where she had been a nanny. There was a cute kitten on the grounds. She and I played with it for a while.