Cycling Cape Breton

Cape Breton Island in October – it’s like a dream. I was imagining beautiful fall colors and blue skies to pedal under – hah! We had rain almost everyday and some pretty crazy wind but the difficulty at times made it all the more rewarding.

After multiple car-cations, we decided last May that the next big trip we took would be more active in a self-propelled way (minus the plane ride it took to get there, apparently).

Figuring out the logistics of the trip was causing me a headache until I emailed Bill Goldstein from Framework Cycle and Fitness who made everything wonderfully easy for us! Unlike most (crazy) people, neither of us were much interested in making the whole 300 km journey around the Cabot Trail, we were much more interested in taking our time over the most scenic 100 km from Cheticamp to Ingonish where the mountains and coast are and using the extra time to hike. However, lacking bus transportation along the Cabot Trail, I had no idea how to get ourselves from Sydney to the Trail. Bill was wonderful – he set us up with bikes and his wife (Muriel, who is a sweetheart!) ferried us to Cheticamp the day we arrived in Sydney.

As we took our bags from the van at the National Park campground a park warden drove up and got out to speak with us – we thought he was going to tell us off for not registering yet – instead, he warned us about something called Souette winds; the forecast called for gusts of up to 120km/hr that evening and he suggested we put our tent some place more sheltered – even in the cookhouse if need be.

We set up behind a stand of trees and they helped out a lot. That evening we had a fire and a few drinks and were in bed by midnight as the winds grew stronger. I had a horrible sleep, waking every half hour to the pounding of the wind against the tent. A few time I thought I heard a plane approaching before realizing that the sound was a gust of wind cresting the mountains behind us before  it crashed into our tent about 30 seconds later. I was a bit worried that the trees above our tent weren’t going to hold out against the onslaught.

The morning dawned cloudy and we made our way back to Cheticamp, 8 miles south, to look around. This was the first time we’d been for a ride on the bikes. I was surprised how fast they could go! The wind had died a bit in the morning but was still quite strong and I was unnerved every time I was almost swept off my bike. The wind was behind us so we made good time into town, however, I did wonder that if the wind is this bad here, how will we fair when we’re on a skinny highway in the mountains?

After some Tim Hortons (of course), a trip to the NSLB (always), and a trip to the grocery store and we headed back to the park with the wind in our face. Wow. There was a point when we actually had to pedal downhill! At one point, cycling no faster than a pedestrian, we both got off the bikes as the wind whipped our rain jackets back and forth and began to walk, both thinking that we probably should have put some training into this.

In any case, the rest of the afternoon was passed with walks around the campground and various camp chores. The showers at the Cheticamp campground are absolutely amazing, by the way. I was excited to get going the next morning.

However, when I woke up the next day to a bleak, gray sky my excitement had turned into anxiety. Not being an avid biker by any stretch of the imagination, who gets tired with inclines any greater than zero per cent, I was experiencing a moment of panic at the prospect of 100 km of mountains. Why weren’t we on a car-cation? What did I have against cars anyways? Why do I have to do things the hard way?

By 9 a.m., after a quick breakfast of oatmeal, we set off, north on the road. Soon the road was curving along coastline as we cycled through the foothills (challenging in themselves!).

There’s a rule along the trail, more of a subjective observation, perhaps, that before climbing each mountain the road must descend to sea level – who designed this road? When the mountain is 355 m, as French mountain is, you really do climb 355 m. On the bike. With panniers the equivalent weight of a large child. (We estimated them to be 70-80 lbs on each bike. A bit to used to packing everything in a canoe, I think).

When we got to the real climbing section it didn’t take long for us to start walking, along side the highway in the fog and rain.

The sign notifying us of a several kilometre climb on an 11 per cent grade was not particularly welcome.

At the top we came across the Skyline trail which we had planned to hike, however, because of the fog we just spent a few minutes eating some power bars in the emergency shelter at the turn off before moving on, excited to reach Pleasant Bay. The rain really started to come down and within minutes I was soaked, my shoes squished with each downward pedal. With the wind in our faces I tried to pull my hood lower over my eyes so I could navigate through the horizontal rain, cars and puddles. Very exhilarating, although a little nerve-racking. When the rain let up a bit we stopped at some of the lookouts, beautiful and haunting against the gray ocean and sky, the fall colours muted. Staring out at Fishing Cove I had an emotional moment – so proud of us for making it all this way. The several kilometre descent from MacKenzie Mountain was the highlight of the day. Tight turns and switchbacks – Geoff made it up to 70 km/hour.

We stopped for lunch at a diner (a most welcome sight) and drank copious amounts of hot chocolate and tea, followed by soup, fish and chips and salad, mmm! Later that afternoon we headed to MacIntosh Brook campground in the national park to set up camp, however, after Geoff got a sharp stick in his eye we decided to stay at a little motel just outside the park. The campground itself wasn’t the greatest either, although maybe my opinion is coloured by the constant drizzle and a rather odd man staying there, but the ten sites available are all very close to the highway (a few hundred meters) with no trees for privacy. Add to that that there’s no firewood available, yet it’s a federal crime to take dead wood from the bush, and we were willing to spend the evening in comfort. The shower at the hotel was great.

The next morning saw us out of the motel after a breakfast at the restaurant (bad idea – my stomach was way too busy digesting for mountain climbing) and soon tackling North Mountain, the biggest of the bunch. I had a brilliant theory that even though this mountain was higher and steeper than the last, the climbing only lasts 4 km so it’d be over quicker and less painful – ha! Try pushing a 80 lbs mountain bike up a 13 per cent grade for 4 km – it’s hard. Although, not as hard as cycling.

The day was a mix of sun and clouds, blue skies visible but not so sunny that we were overheating. As with yesterday’s mountain, the descent was much sweeter, and sadly quicker, than the ascent.

20 km after the mountain and lunch found us at Hideaway Campground and Oyster Market (I do love oysters!). The campground was pretty empty – just one RV and one couple in a cabin – and our site had a great view out over the Atlantic and the mountains. That evening we had some oysters (and later spaghetti!) and asked about the oyster raising life. The guy actually dives for all his oysters – how excellent! Alex and his wife seemed like very nice people.

The evening was windy (and smokey!) and it rained fairly hard overnight. We woke up groggy and it continued to drizzle, was still cold and windy and our site had turned into a pit of a mud pit. We gathered up our stuff and dried some clothes (and the tent) before heading on our way. We had the choice of the “scenic drive” -  alongside the ocean which looked about 8 km longer – or the straightforward route along the trail. We chose the scenic trail. I remember looking at the 3-D topographical map-thing at the Parks Canada office in Cheticamp and thinking that it looked fairly flat - how wrong I was. The 20 km to Neil’s Harbour were a little rough at times. There were no mountains to climb but the hills, oh the hills! The road undulated up then down then up then down … the views were great though, even in the rain! Some people have a roaring Atlantic ocean in their backyard, which is pretty crazy! What made them decide to build a house there of all places?

Before leaving the oyster campground I had asked the lady if there were any hills along the scenic route – she mentioned just one near Smelt Brook – do you know how many times I thought we were in Smelt Brook? I thought we were way past Smelt Brook when we got there.

In any case, the road did level out for the last kilometer or so - I saw a bald eagle! – and we arrived in Neils Harbour excited for the chowder house. Unfortunately, the chowder house had just closed DAYS prior so we wandered (wet and bedraggled and without good humour on my part) into the grocery store where I lamented my lifestyle choice of vegetarianism. My lunch consisted of a couple cheese strings, a snickers bar and a bun. Yum. This part of the trip stands out as the Worst of Times. Cold, wet (my gloves dripped), tired and unsatisfied by lunch I had enough wits about me to realize that we were in a stunning little town built right beside an angry ocean. The wharf looked so picturesque as the ocean frothed and waves crashed against barriers, throwing foam against the lighthouse. It was Too Perfect. Did I take out my camera? Not even once. Neil’s Harbour will have to live on in my memory.

My mood brightened as we biked – again there were hills but we were close! We took photos in front of the “Broad Cove- 10 km” sign on the highway and stopped for pictures more often, savoring the last of the journey.  I seriously rejoiced at the sight of the sign for the turn off.

In any case, we arrived, still amidst drizzle, to a very odd campground. Listening to the signs we cycled to the area that was open to tenting and tried to find a nice spot. The thing was the sites are all set up strangely. First of all, many sites don’t have fire pits, the ones that do don’t have tree cover. And if you happen to find those one or two or three that you could MAYBE, with a lot of ingenuity string a trap over and have a fire at, you will find that the picnic table, just like all the other picnic tables, is about six feet away from the fire pit which isn’t a pit at all but actually a steel box that will, invariably, be pointed AWAY from the picnic table that is so many feet away. It’s like some kind of joke.

We spent a good long time wandering in rain trying to find something that would work for us (I suggested just pitching the tent in the oh-so deliciously heated bathrooms) and eventually came across a cook shelter of sorts, though unlike the other ones we came across in Nova Scotia, this one only had slats for walls.

No matter! We decided to pitch our tent in the cook shelter (a no-no but it was cold and rainy, yadda yadda). We got one of the stoves going and had tuna melts for dinner – yum! AND EVEN BETTER – hot showers! We left a bunch of our wet clothes in the bathrooms to dry overnight – we made good use of our camp fees that night.

But, as nice as those bathrooms were, we decided to wander further down the road the next morning and see if we could find another campground for the evening that wasn’t so strangely laid out. We passed a small diner/convenience store just up the hill from the park (Donnie’s?) and stopped in for a coffee. They also had a campground in the back but it was more of a trailer park and so we said maybe we’d be back. The road was almost all downhill all the way to Ingonish Beach, where the closest liqour store is, and we realized that there was no way we were climbing all the way back up! We set about finding a motel/inn/cottage and had the most delicious lunch (almost) ever at the Main Street Restaurant and Bakery. It was so good that we went back for dinner, and what a dinner it was, after checking ourselves into the Island Inn, which was a decent place to rest our full bellies.

Bill picked us up bright and early at 7 a.m. (he had to get up at 5 a.m.! Bill is pretty awesome.) And we shared some stories from the past few days. Back in Sydney a few hours later, still raining, we repacked our things and rented a car to go to Louisbourg. (After checking out the giant fiddle by the docks of course.) Louisbourg is only a 45 minutes drive away so it’s great! The site itself was interesting though some of the buildings were closed due to the lateness of the season. The in-person characters were interesting to chat with as well.

Considering the rain we decided to check into the Louisbourg Fortress and relaxed a bit in the afternoon before a dinner, which was good but couldn’t compare to the amazingness that was the Main Street in Ingonish. We then went to the Louisbourg Playhouse to see the play Three Men in a Tub, which was good fun.

The next morning, being our last morning, was blue and sunny without a cloud in the sky. I quite enjoyed the sunshine after my eyes adjusted to the bright light.

Reflecting back, this was an amazing trip. There were a couple times that were difficult and unpleasant but that made it all so much more worth it. I love looking at that little section of the map and reliving the climbs and descents and feeling the satisfaction that comes from hard work. I would love to go back and I’d do the trail again by bike  – but without quite so much rain next time!