Nova Scotia

We're super excited to see a bit of Nova Scotia!  The relentless drive to get to the ferry in North Sydney means that we'll miss most of the province as we skirt across the North and through Cape Breton.

On the ferry from PEI we meet a Halifaxian who asks about our travels. We tell him we'll be bee-lining it as fast as we can so we can make it in time for the Sydney ferry that will allow us to complete our epic in St. John's, Newfoundland. We've ridden roughly 7000 kilometres through eight provinces in less than two months.  We have 3 days to make it to the ferry and 311 kilometres to go.  We like our chances. 

This guy, with barely an acknowledgement, says "Wow you guys tour like Americans, you just blast from place to place as fast as you can without really seeing or experiencing any of it" 

As I held Sherrie back, to prevent her from choking him out, I said "Pardon Moi, but maybe you missed the part about how we rode to here, from Victoria, BC, ooooonnnnn.... BICYCLES!" "It's literally the LEAST American thing I can think of!"

No, we didn't say that, we just smiled and nodded and in our heads we additionally said "sir why don't you get a move on, you're probably late for your indoor golf session"  Pfft.   

Our egos fully functional, we arrive in Nova Scotia and proceed to the welcome sign for our 9th ceremonial provincial photograph.  Booyah!  

We've heard from Peter (Sophie's Dad) that she is doing well and they are trying to sort out whether she will need to stay in Moncton, or if she can travel home to Vancouver.  Either way she is looking at some major rehab time. The doctor feels there is a good chance for a full recovery, so we're feeling some small relief.  She's alive, she's funny, and she's super hungry all the time.  Phew.  

The highways are red. We're blasting along towards Antigonish trying to make sure not to daydream as we ride a huge day. 150 kilometres or so plus the ferry ride. Quite honestly tired of pavement in any colour by this point.  

A driver has stopped a little ways ahead and is waving at us with a little red something.  It's Jeremy Fisher if you can believe it!  He'd spotted the guitar as he passed us on the road and pulled off to get us a Tim Horton's gift card.  "Here! Have a hot breakfast on me!" He had crossed Canada by bicycle back in his 20s and boy he knows just how hard it is to do. Ok now we were in the mood for hugs!  What a sweet guy!  He's on his way to Sydney, to play a gig and if we can get there, he'll give us free tickets to the show.  

Oh man thanks, but no chance we're making another 250k today lol.      

We're feeling pretty lucky about how the daytime weather is treating us in late September.  Sunny, clear and perfect riding temperature near 20 degrees.  It's really cold at night though.  We set the tent up behind a church just outside of Antigonish after riding into town for burgers.  It's not just the ferry schedule we're racing, it's winter we're trying to beat. 0 degrees at night is beyond the limits of our camping gear.

After a break for early lunch we roll across to Cape Breton. Felix had insisted that we ride the Cabot Trail, but we just can't for lack of time. There's honestly a lack of will power now as well. We're ready to finish. Hopefully the highway up the middle offers some scenery and someday soon we'll be back to ride ALL of Nova Scotia more thoroughly. We've certainly got the physical stamina to ride it now, but mentally we're running on fumes.    

The consolation scenery anywhere on Cape Breton is plenty epic indeed. There's a slowing of the pace here after we leave the main highway and come over.     

The hills roll, as hills do, through farmland and rural homesteads. 

Cresting a high point we can make out the cliffs of the Cape Breton Highlands and as far as the Cabot Trail is concerned, that'll have to do for now. 

We're not quite late enough in the season to get the full colour change show from the trees, but it's started and there's time for a photo as we climb this steep hill.  

A merry and interesting lunch stop leads to humorous conversation with the owner of an antique shop who had the most Easternest accent we'd ever heard (so far). Between politics jokes, he says this country gets funnier the further East you go. We had to concentrate very hard to understand everything he was saying. I bet he lays it on extra thick for us tourists.  He knew we weren't buyin' anything from the shop, to carry on our bicycles, but offered up Gatorades and waters just the same.  Lovely chap.  

He laid out a whole list of suggestions for which route we should take from here to North Sydney. Had plenty of reasons for why and which etc. It all sounded pretty good and made sense, what he was suggesting, but something wasn't quite right.  

We remembered Sophie's quip:  "You know, unless you've ridden a bicycle across the entire country, your opinion on my itinerary is entirely inconsequential."  Ah Sophie.  That gave us a chuckle for sure.    

We elected to take the route that was opposite the advice from the antique shop keeper and head for Iona.   

What a great ride!  Quiet highway, with fabulous views, right along the lake. 

It's a close contest.  The argument for most beautiful place in Canada has many many contenders. 

The rain threatened a bit but had yet to follow through. We had a cool ride and stayed rain ready for most of the afternoon. We're targeting a provincial campground that says 'closed' on the website. Hopefully we'll get there before dark. 

Around every corner was another stunning vista as dusk came along behind us.  

The closed campsite at Iona was easy enough to climb into and make our way to a primo spot.  We have the place to ourselves and it's possibly the nicest campgrounds we've ever seen. Guillaume texted to see how we had fared, and get a suggested route from us for New Brunswick. We advised AGAINST the #2 of course. Bad ju. 

We bragged about our campsite.   

The real reward came in the morning as the sun came up and made fantasmical patterns in the sky.  We had front row seats while we brewed our am coffee dose and feebly attempted to dry out our tent fly. Even without rain we were battling very high humidity and condensation.  We'd have to make some gear changes if this was going to go on any longer.   

What a treat Iona had been. 

We were on the move early enough to avoid any traffic and had the narrow road to ourselves.  We'd left an easy 50 or so kilometres to get to North Sydney and with the ferry leaving at 5pm we'll hopefully have time to find a laundromat and use this Tim Horton's gift card that's burnin' a hole in the pannier.   

We took our time.  Even with a flat or more major repair, it was finally maybe feeling possibly sure that we would be taking a ferry to Newfoundland today. 

We savoured the last 20-30k. Long stop for lunch with our feet dangled off the short cliff to the water. 

We soaked up that view as long as was necessary to feel like we were doing tourism properly as declared by the RV drivers scolding us for touristing too fast.  

North Sydney was a fun day.  We had made it.   There was still a huge ride to do in Newfoundland, but the mad rush across the country was over.  We had made it.

We tootled about chatting with locals and found a laundromat so we could board the ferry with fresh changes. Popped over to Timmie's for a couple coffees and bagels to see if this gift card works.   

"Here's your order, and you have $88.40 remaining on your card"

Are you serious Jeremy Fisher?!  You gave two strangers on the highway a hundo in gift card?  Ok now I feel guilty for making up that silly song in my head about not being able to go to the show.  Dammit I bet the show was lovely and super wholesome!  

 

Standing in line to board the ferry to Argentia, tickets in hand. That behemoth is our boat ride to glory.  There's a delay, which we understand is common in ferry travel. Gotta kill another hour or two. 

We met a fellow on a motorcycle from Chapleau where we'd ridden through in North Ontario. He's running away from a mining job, and a lifestyle he describes as hell in a cold dark place. Those mining and logging jobs gobble up our young men and spit them out into something unrecognizable from humanity.  He's seen some unpretty things in his young years. And the money all goes to Toronto. "Yeah, just like the oil jobs out West I said."  

"I can't believe you guys rode these bicycles on the Sultan Industrial Road."  "You guys are the real crazy."

Every province so far has been worth seeing, and then some. But none have elicited the excitement that we feel to be going to Newfoundland.  Man I hope we can meet Mary Walsh!  

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