Atlantic Canada Part 4

Yesterday when I left the ferry I headed south, mostly on motorways as I was heading for Halifax and didn’t want to arrive too late. I had it in my mind that I ought to see Halifax again. My one visit was several years ago when we were holidaying in the Bay of Fundy and we did a day trip to Halifax, it was raining and I have a vague recollection of an interesting bridge that we crossed to get to the downtown area. I’m not entirely sure why I had this desire to see more of the city and in any event getting acquainted with a city takes a bit more time than I have available, so I’m not left with real impression, other than there is still an interesting bridge, and the part of the downtown that I saw is less interesting and a bit grubbier than I like. Perhaps the problem is due to Uber, or the lack thereof. I had found cheap lodgings (as I am want to do) a few kilometres from the city centre, got myself cleaned up and summonsed an Uber to take me downtown. Rather attempted to summons an Uber, guess what, Uber does not operate in Halifax. The motel gave me the number of a cab company, but they were not into answering their phone, so I got kitted up and rode into town – over the interesting bridge – parked the bike and wandered around for half-an-hour, but my desire to ‘hang out’ had left me. I rode back, stopped at a supermarket and got some ham and cheese for supper, which I ate in my room, oh lonesome me.

Part of the reason for the Halifax stop was to ride Highway 7, and that at least justified the decision. As I right this I have a really super day of riding under the belt. It was about 10 a.m. when I pulled away, I had waited for a light rain to stop before packing the bike. It was misty, but pleasantly cool, I have struggled a little with the heat and humidity, so this was a nice break, but I knew that it would rob me of some of the great views I had hoped for. Nonetheless, the mist added some extra magic and riding through the forestry bits and hills was something I won’t easily forget. One thing I can say about Halifax that even only a few kilometers out from the center you are already in the countryside, so I doubt that too many people have a really horrible commute. If I were to work in Halifax, then somewhere around Highway 7 about 10 Km out would be the pace to live. Highway 7 morphs into a motorway, the 107, but offers the option of turning off and carrying on with Highway 7, which I do. The road is wet from the mist and I know from bitter experience that this is when a road is at it’s most slippery, it’s really greasy, so I am riding with care. Mist notwithstanding, and some bad patches of blacktop, this is a great motorcycling road. Lovely sweeping curves and fabulous scenery. The road is following the coast line, which is not long even beaches, but is broken with dozens of narrow inlets, which makes for some spectacular sights that even the mist is unable to hide from me.

I make a stop at Sheet Harbour, by now I’m reasonably hungry and need to make use of the facilities. I spot this ‘Information Centre’ and turn off. What a little treasure, old fashioned, but spotless toilet, a neat picnic area, the information center is manned by two youths (one male and one female, but I will still say ‘manned’), neatly dressed including fancy tartan ties - wish I had taken a picture – and they really know their stuff. There is also a museum of sorts with a higgledy-piggeldy collection which makes for a fascinating fifteen minutes. I eat my packed lunch, left overs from last night’s supper, and carry on. The mist starts to lift and I can pick up the pace a tad, it’s just such an awesome ride, I’d recommend to anyone to try this one. There are a few motorcycles out and quite by chance three of us end up riding as a group. It’s nice, we stick together for almost 30 Km then all stop at Sherbrooke for gas, where we get to meet and chat. Highway 7 leaves the coast at this point and goes inland, but there is an option to carry on with a road that follows the coast. The lassie at the information center told me that the coast road is quite bad, and the clouds seem to be threatening rain that way, so I take the inland route, I should get to the starting point of the Cabot Trail by 4.30 at the latest. As it turns out I decide to stop about 20 km shy of the starting point for the Cabot Trail.

Great little Information Center - Sheet Harbour 

Nova Scotia, New Scotland, sometimes even more Scots than the old one, especially here where I have stopped for the night in Cape Breton. I’m staying in a village with the unpronounceable name, for me anyway, of Whycocomagh, which seems to be part of a larger municipality of Inverness. I don’t think it gets more Scottish than that, I have seen signposts in English and Celtic, and the local supermarket has some signs in English and Celtic. Apparently this branch of Celtic is called Canadian Gaelic, and is spoken as a native tongue by 300 people and total speakers is about 2500, according to Wikipedia anyway, so it’s not about to become the lingua franca, and I don’t have to learn the three key words needed to get by, hullo, please and thank you. Nova Scotians have a distinctive accent, it’s sort of standard North American with added Scots. I have passed a sign that read, ‘If it’s not Scottish, it’s crap’. Not sure what that referred to, but it does illustrate the point. It’s a bit like the English speakers in the Natal Midlands in South Africa that used to refer to England as ‘home’ but some of them had never set foot there.

I can’t say it has been a tough ride today, pleasant and interesting. Looking forward to the Cabot Trail.

Bald Eagle I spotted in the tree, then it flew off