Day 30 – Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Hubbard, Nova Scotia to Grand Pre, Nova Scotia – 171 Miles

Today was a much better day than yesterday.  It dawned bright and clear, and after a good night’s sleep I put the downer day of yesterday behind me.  We decided to drive a little further down the coast this morning before cutting across the peninsula to the Bay of Fundy side because we wanted to visit the town on Lunenburg, another historic, bayside settlement located on the tip of the next bay south of Peggy’s Cove.  It was a beautiful drive over, following right along the shoreline most of the way.  Lunenburg turned out to be a delightful place, a much larger town than Peggy’s cove.  It is set on a sloping hillside with large trees and a small but vibrant downtown area, which stretches for several blocks along three main streets which parallel the harbor front.  The buildings are all from the Victorian era, brightly painted and embellished with lots of gingerbread trim.  We had coffee on the outdoor deck on the second level of an inn and restaurant overlooking the harbor, then spent a couple of hours exploring the shopping district, which had many real businesses, as well as art and crafts galleries in addition to the usual touristy T-shirt and knick-knack shops.  After a light lunch of crab sandwich and a slice of almond cranberry banana bread, we set out toward the Annapolis Valley, which is located just inland from and parallel to the Bay of Fundy on the western side of Nova Scotia’s southern peninsula.

We followed a winding road along a river and string of lakes until we reached the divide separating the Atlantic and Fundy watersheds, then another, smaller river down the other side.  Reaching the major southwest-northeast highway up the western side of the peninsula, we passed through a land of pastoral farms and meadows separated by dense mixed hardwood and pine woodlands.  It was only a few miles before we turned west, down to the towns of Wolfville and Grand Pre, the heart of Acadia, as this part of French Canada was called.  There were two places in particular that Jeanette wanted to see here – an herb and sculpture garden called the Tangled Garden, and the Museum of Acadia, a history center that is part of the Canadian National Parks system and the location of a famous statue of Evangeline, the ill-fated heroine of the story of the same name written by Robert Louis Stephenson.  I also wanted to see the amazing tides in this upper end of the Bay of Fundy, which are well-known as the highest tides anywhere on earth.

Our first order of business was to get checked into a campground so we wouldn’t be worried about that later in the evening.  We found a place called Evangeline Beach Family Campground, located right on the beach a couple of miles west of Grand Pre.  We then went to the gardens, which were bustling with early spring-blooming flowers.  It was a shady haven on a warm spring day. 

Next we went back into Wolfville, a short three or four miles south of Grand Pre, then over to Port William, where the tidal flow up the Cornwallis River averages 40 to 50 feet, depending on a number of factors such as the phase of the moon and what’s going on out in the Atlantic.  It was near low tide, approximately two hours past the actual minimum, when we got there, but I wanted to get a couple of pictures of the muddy river bottom and the tall pilings supporting the century-old wharf on the riverbank for comparison to when we come back tomorrow at high tide.  Being late afternoon, the sun was at the wrong angle to get a good photograph, but after I do a little Photoshop manipulation I think they will be useable.  But that means I won’t be posting the photos for a few days.

We stopped for dinner at a small café on Wolfville’s Main Street, and I had a delicious dinner of chicken primavera with red and green peppers, onions, and broccoli served over penne pasta, and Jeanette had pan-fried fresh haddock with a spinach salad.

Returning to the campground, we had time to take a shower and do a load of laundry before walking across the street to the bluff overlooking the beach to watch the evening high tide rising over the wide beach.  However, the peak wasn’t until after midnight and we were tired from a busy day, so our high tide experience will be tomorrow at noon when we go back to the Cornwallis River at Port William.

Day 29 – Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Hilden, Nova Scotia to Hubbards, Nova Scotia – 121 miles

It was a short day, at least as far as mileage goes.  But it was a tiring and somewhat stressful day, as this was our day to visit Halifax. That meant driving the motorhome into the heart of an unfamiliar city, on narrow streets and through what seemed like a dozen construction zones, then trying to find a place to park that is RV-friendly.  We finally succeeded, though, and found a public surface parking lot that was right where we wanted to be, down on the waterfront.  We spent a couple of hours strolling along the boardwalk that follows the harbor’s edge, right down in the midst of that vibrant city.  There was construction everywhere – not only the aforementioned road construction but a lot of building construction.  There were construction cranes everywhere we looked, with multiple high-rise buildings in various stages of completion.  The economy must be doing well here.

The boardwalk passes through the mooring area for some very large private yachts, both the sailing kind and the motorized kind.  There was one rather old schooner, and one brand new two-masted vessel that looked to be about 70 feet long.  There seemed to be a lot of activity on the latter, including a guy way up at the peak of the aft mast, installing some sort of rigging.  Everything looked brand new and spotless, which was confirmed when I asked one of the crew (or owners) about the boat.  She said they had just taken possession of it a few days before, having picked it up directly from the boat builder just up the harbor.  They were preparing it for its maiden voyage, and gear and supplies were lined up on the quay beside the boat, ready to be loaded.  In the next slip over was a large, modern cruising trawler, which I estimated to be about 60 feet long.  But the real gem was a bit up the way – an ultramodern, gleaming power yacht at least a hundred feet long.  It was flying the flag of a country I didn’t recognize on the stern, and the name of the boat was plastered in polished stainless steel letters on the side of the cabin, again in a language I didn’t recognize.  I can only guess at the cost of something like this, but it must be in the hundreds of millions of dollars.  Judging from the array of antennas on the mast, the cost of the electronics alone had to be in the 7-digit range.

Getting ready for the maiden voyage

Getting out of Halifax proved to be almost as much of a challenge as was getting into the city.  We were a little better prepared navigationally, but we hit a delay caused by road construction that must have lasted at least 15 or 20 minutes.  I guess the harsh winters in this part of the world are really hard on the roads, and the crews have to shoe-horn the entire year’s maintenance into the three months of summer.

Our destination as we left Halifax was Peggy’s Cove, a historic fishing village about a half-hour drive from the city along a winding county road, with, of course, more construction.  Peggy’s Cove was one of the “don’t miss” sites recommended by friends who have visited Nova Scotia.  It is a designated world heritage site, so we were really expecting it to be something special.  As often happens, though, when you have high expectations, the reality turns out to be something less.  It may have been because we were tired and frustrated from the stress of working our way through Halifax, but we were both rather disappointed when we drove into the village of Peggy’s Cove.  Yes, it is uniquely situated on a windswept, rocky peninsula; and yes, it does have a picturesque lighthouse; and yes, it does have the prototypical small harbor with a few fishing boats beside piers piled high with lobster traps, and yes it does have several weatherbeaten  shanties along and overlooking the harbor, as well as a few brightly-painted shops along the single road which dead-ends at the lighthouse; but somehow it just didn’t click with either of us. Personally, I was looking forward to finding a photographer’s delight with all the neat amenities I just described, but I guess the combination of my mental attitude at the time and the grey, leaden skies and equally grey and flat water out in the cove just put a damper on the whole experience for me.  To top it off, it began to rain as we drove away.  Here’s looking forward to better days ahead.

Peggy's Cove lighthouse

Peggy's Cove harbor

A patch of color on a grey day

Day 28 – Monday, June 9, 2014

South Harbor, Nova Scotia to Hilden, Nova Scotia – 302 miles

Technically, today we began our journey homeward.  Our campsite last night marked the farthest point from home that we’d be traveling, so beginning today, every mile we drive will be taking us back toward Colorado – although in a roundabout way.  I checked our accumulated total mileage so far, and the GPS tells me it’s 5315 miles.  Just for grins, I punched the “Go Home” button on the GPS to see what kind of route it would generate to get us back to our driveway, and after a surprisingly short crunching of numbers, it came up with a route that totaled 2797 miles.  Of course that’s the most direct way, traveling on Interstate Highways down through New England and New York, and picking up I-80 across the Midwest, then I-76 down to Denver.  I guess theoretically we do that in five days, maybe six at the most, if we really put the pedal to the metal – or less if we drove straight through without stopping to rest at night.  Not my way of traveling, but it could be done.  We’ll probably do it in three weeks minimum, and probably cover at least another four thousand to forty-five hundred miles.

The first part of the journey – 60 miles or so – was another beautiful drive down the coastline of the Cape Breton Highlands, only this time it was the Atlantic Ocean off to our left side.  It was a crystal clear morning with only a hint of a cloud here and there.  The eastern horizon, out in the Atlantic, was a sharp horizontal line, unobscured by the haze layer often seen over the ocean.  The water itself was deep blue and smooth, with hardly a trace of surf against the shore.  The local fishermen were taking advantage of the calm conditions, and there were dozens of lobster boats checking traps all across our field of view.   

The shoreline itself, while generally very rocky, was not as rugged as we saw yesterday on the western side of the island.  The land was not as high in elevation, and there were many small sandy beaches here and there, especially where they occurred at the mouths of rivers.  Where the beaches were adjacent to the rocky headlands, they consisted of fist-sized to softball-sized cobbles rather than sand.  The water everywhere was as clear as a bell, and quite cool when I dipped my finger into it at one point.

We eventually reached the end of the highlands, and the terrain became more benign.  Looking off to the east, we could see the eastern part of the island was much lower, and although there were a few low hills, it looked generally pretty flat.  Whatever titanic forces pushed the earth’s crust upward to form the highlands somehow bypassed that portion of the island.

It was a little after 1:00pm when we reached the Canso Causeway back to the mainland. Coming off the causeway, we turned to the east to follow what was identified on the map as a scenic drive.  It turned out to be not that scenic, at first skirting around an unsightly rock quarry, then an industrial area of docks and oil tanks along the shores of the Canso Strait.  The road finally turned south, paralleling the eastern shoreline, but too far inland to offer views of the water.  It was mainly just  a narrow winding road through thick willow or alder scrub which blocked any view to either side.  We could occasionally catch a glimpse of the ocean, but even then it was just the blue horizon off in the distance.  And the road itself was quite rough, rattling our poor motorhome like ball bearings in a tin can.  Perhaps the road and the scenery get better farther south if you stick with it, but after nearly an hour of this we found an escape route that cut back inland toward the central Trans-Canada Highway.  While we generally prefer the back roads, the scenery along this mostly multiple-lane super highway was much better than we had seen since arriving back on the mainland, plus we could get some miles under our belt and hopefully make up some of the time we had spent dilly-dallying around for the past few days.  We eventually turned southeast toward Halifax, and stopped for the night just past the town of Truro.  

All in all, the day was not a total loss, because of the spectacular ride this morning.  But nevertheless we’re looking forward to a better day tomorrow.

 

Typical Atlantic side shoreline, Cape Breton Highlands

Lighthouse at Neil's Harbor

Broader view of Atlantic shoreline

Day 27 – Sunday, June 8, 2014

Linwood, Nova Scotia to South Harbor, Nova Scotia – 160 Miles

We began the day with Mass at Our Lady of Grace Monastery, just a few miles up the road from the Hyclass Campground where we stayed last night.  Mass began at 9:00am, but because it was a traditional High Mass with candles, incense, and everything sung or chanted, it took almost an hour and a half.  We weren’t sure if they do a High Mass every week because it is a monastery or if it was only this week since it was Pentecost Sunday.  The monastery chapel was a beautiful, circa 1950s structure that easily would have seated perhaps 300 people, but there were only a dozen or so attendees in addition to the priest, two acolytes, and a handful of nuns who were seated in a small chapel off to the side.  It was obvious that we were not regulars – besides driving up in a motorhome with Colorado license plates, we were the only ones who were not recognized as neighbors by the regular attendees.  Everyone was very nice, however, and most made a point of coming over to us and greeting us or welcoming us to their community.  That has been something we’ve noticed ever since we first entered Canada back in Saskatchewan and then re-entered into Ontario.  Every single person we’ve met: store clerks, wait persons in restaurants, gas station attendants – everyone –has greeted us with a smile and made us feel very welcome.  Canada is a country of nice people.

After leaving Mass, we stopped for gas before getting back on the highway, then immediately set out for Cape Breton, the northernmost part of the Province of Nova Scotia.  Cape Breton is actually an island, or more precisely several islands separated from the mainland and from each other by a large inland “lake,” which is really a large bay connected to the surrounding ocean by several narrow straits and channels.  I’m not sure what the names of the different islands are, but as far as I know, they are collectively called Cape Breton Island.  I always assumed that the name comes from the cape at the northernmost tip of the island, which reaches out into the Cabot Strait, the wide body of water which forms the boundary between the Gulf of St Lawrence and the Atlantic Ocean.  It was therefore a bit of a surprise to me as I looked at the map and saw the actual name of the cape at the tip of the island is North Cape and not Cape Breton.  Oh well, you learn something new every day.

One reaches Cape Breton Island by driving across a short causeway, which is only about one kilometer long.  The narrow strait separating it from the mainland at that point is called the Canso Strait.  Once across the strait, we drove up the western coastal road toward the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, the one feature that most people seem to associate with this part of the province.  The early settlers of this area, after the French Acadians were driven out or assimilated into the “new” British culture, were Scottish – hence the name Nova Scotia.  The Scottish influence remains as seen in the names along the way: MacDonald, MacLeod, MacThis and MacThat.  As with many parts of Canada, the road signs are bilingual, only here they’re not bilingual English and French, they’re English and Gaelic.  A bit farther north, just as you approach the western entrance to the national park, the road passes through an Acadian region, and French once again becomes the other half of the bilingual equation.

For the most part, the road we followed passed through the rolling, wooded hills which we’ve come to expect for this area, with a higher, more mountain-like range to the east, toward the center of the island.  The farther north you go, however, the closer and closer the higher terrain inches over toward the shoreline until, just as you enter the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, there’s no shoreline left – the steep, cliff-like slopes come right down to the water’s edge.  Upon entering the park, the road immediately climbs the flank of these slopes and traces along their edges.  There are scenic viewpoints and turn-outs every few kilometers, giving spectacular views of the surf pounding against the rocky shoreline far below.  The road eventually tops out on a broad plateau some 1300 feet above sea level.  It then traverses a series of deep valleys with steep, winding grades that must reach 10 percent or more at times.  These  valleys empty out into small coves and bays on both the Gulf of St Lawrence side and the Atlantic side of the park, which stretches across the width of the island at this point.  Tonight we are camped alongside one of these coves, called Aspy Bay.  Our campsite is on a small bluff which looks down the bay and out into the Atlantic Ocean beyond.  Tomorrow we head south down the eastern side of the island, then back on the mainland and continue down to the Halifax area.

The road along the west side of Cape Breton Highlands

View from tonight's campsite, looking out into the Atlantic Ocean