Cape Breton - Cabot Trail

July 19, 2011

Day 11 of our cross-country odyssey and my birthday. The entire valley was fogged in with low cloud, but it wasn’t raining. We decided to enter Cape Breton Highlands National Park from the west side. We drove through dense fog for twenty or thirty minutes. The kind of wet fog that you periodically need to use windshield wipers in. The fog began to lift and suddenly we were driving in full sunshine. We continued up the highway towards Cheticamp. The fog soon returned, but this time it wasn’t as dense. It was more like blue-grey smoke that wafts and swirls through a campground at dusk. The highway reminded me of the drive between Skidegate and Masset on the east coast of Haida Gwaii. Wind blown trees and rocky beaches stretched along the highway for kilometers. We stopped in Cheticamp to take a picture of some fishing boats at anchor in the fog.

I spotted a tiny little barbershop (shack) called Jimmy’s. I decided to get a haircut. It was, after all, my birthday. One quick u-turn later, I was outside Jimmy’s door. He was just finishing with a customer when he welcomed me in. “Do you want a picture or a haircut,” he asked. It seemed tourists frequently photographed his shop. I asked for a haircut and sat down in an antique chair. Jimmy proceeded to cut my hair and over the next twenty minutes I learned about his life. He told me about the “old” days in Cheticamp. The days when they had a real winter. The days when the youngsters stayed in town. The days when there were still codfish. The cod have been gone for twenty years and Jimmy doesn’t think they are ever going to rebound. We are a fishing community. Without fish we are nothing!” Jimmy told me about traveling to Toronto in 1962 to learn to be a barber. He opened his shop in July of 1963, the same month and year I was born. After paying Jimmy his $8 fee and tipping him a couple of bucks, I thanked him for his time. I stopped and took a picture of his shop and Jimmy laughed and said, “No charge,” he gave me a wave as he returned to his barber’s chair and newspaper.

Further up the trail, we stopped at the park entrance and watched a slide show about the history of the park. Once we began to climb along the headlands, the sun came out and we were able to see the west coast of the Cabot Trail, in all of its splendor. There were still remnants of sea fog blowing across the highway, but overall we were able to view the coastal sections of the park well.

We climbed along a series of switchbacks to the top of French Mountain. Hannah and I stopped to hike a gorgeous trail called the Skyline. The trail stretched along a ridge and offered dramatic views of the Gulf coast. Whales, moose, and bear all are readily seen from the trail, although we only encountered a bobcat. The hike itself stretched for approximately 10 km and was the highpoint (pardon the pun) of the day.

We continued up the highway pausing at every viewpoint to admire the scenery before stopping for a picnic lunch at MacIntosh Brook. A short walk through an old growth hardwood forest brought us to a small waterfall.

We followed the Cabot Trail around to the east side of Cape Breton and began to travel south along the coast. Here the views were dramatically different. The road hugged the coastline about 20 to 30 meters above the water and offered impressive views of steep cliffs and the massive waves that crashed against pebbled beaches.

The weather began to close in on us so we stopped for the night. Hannah prepared me a delicious birthday dinner of soup, salad and hot chocolate.

Fact: A person is only as honest as the firewood they sell you is dry.

The wood we purchased from the general store up the highway wasn’t quite as dry as their sign led us to believe. We eventually got our campfire going, using our air mattress pump like a bellow, and enjoyed a nice evening staring into the flames, eating marshmallows and waving smoke away from our faces. RABBITS RABBITS RABBITS! All in all, a great day and an awesome way to spend one’s birthday!

July 20, 2011 (Cape Breton Day 2)

Forecast was for sunshine all day. We were pretty sure it was sunny above the layer of fog that had enveloped us. Walked up to the pay phone as there was sketchy cell service and booked the ferry to Newfoundland in anticipation of tomorrow’s journey. Later we went of to explore more of the park. Our first stop was at the trail head of a hike to Middle Head. The hike itself could best be described as undulating. Walking through fog, we hiked up and caught glimpses of the shoreline and the Atlantic. We hiked down through windblown bush and wildflowers. When we arrived at the point, we were impressed with the size of the waves crashing below us. Gulls and other sea birds wheeled high above us while others nested in rookeries beneath the cliffs. Unfortunately, the fog was again keeping us from seeing the park in its full glory.

We drove back through the park, retracing some of yesterday’s route. The hope was the fog would lift and we would get to see more than we had yesterday. Along the way, Hannah spotted some whales from the car. We stopped at the next viewpoint and managed to see the tail of another as it dove to feed. The whales were probably fin whales, although humpbacks also frequent this part of Cape Breton.

Continuing north, we stopped at a little outpost called Neil’s Harbour. It is the quintessential maritime fishing village. Fish boats bobbing at anchor, lobster traps stacked in anticipation of another opening, and a small fish packing plant tucked away against the shoreline.

We stopped for a picnic lunch at Neil’s Brook. A small creek feeds a freshwater lake that terminates against a large sand dune. On the other side of the dune, ocean waves rolled up lazily onto the sandy beach. We met a couple from outside of Toronto and exchanged stories of our Cape Breton experiences before heading back to our campsite at Broad Cove.

The mosquitoes were quite bad in our campsite so we went down to the beach where the onshore breeze tended to keep them at bay. Hannah skipped stones across another freshwater lake and later we crossed the dunes and watched an angler casting out into the surf.

After a quick shower, we returned to a bench high above the beach and listened to the waves pound against the cliffs below. The fog returned more determined than ever, covering us with a fine mist as I worked on the blog and Hannah read a book and blew bubbles with her gum.

Newfoundland, our tenth province, will be our next stop.