Tag Cape Breton Island

Walking Nova Scotia – Cape to Cape Journey’s End

Robert Bradt 2 Comments

Between May 18 and July 5 of 2023, I walked from The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, the southern tip of Nova Scotia, to its northern tip at Cape North on Cape Breton Island, a 1000+ km trek. This is the story of part of that journey.  See these posts to read about the whole journey:

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year.  The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this.  If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where am I now?

Home, in Lunenburg.  I’ve had a few days now to let things sink in – that I finished my journey;  that I made a plan and saw it through; that I have a life to fit back into, everyday things to do, friends to see, family to hug and hold.

Fun Facts

I walked a total of 1,027 km, which is about the same as:

  • walking from Toronto to Montreal and back again
  • walking from Paris to Berlin
  • walking a bit more than 24 marathons

It took me around 264 hours of walking to do it, so I averaged just under 3.9 kph, which sounds slow but in my defence that walking time includes rest breaks.  I probably rested around 10-12 minutes for every hour I walked.

I climbed just under 4500 flights of stairs, according to FitBit, and a flight of stairs in Fitbit-land is equal to roughly 3 meters, making it more than 13 km of vertical ascent (and descent, since I started and ended more or less at sea level).  That’s like:

  • climbing both Mount Everest and Mount Blanc
  • climbing the CN Tower in Toronto 31 times
  • descending the 1829 meter deep Grand Canyon more than 7 times

It took me about 1.4 million steps to do it.  Think about that the next time you’re walking on an exercise machine.

I crossed 32 rivers – here’s the list, see how many you recognize: Barrington, Clyde, Roseway, Jordan, Sable, Tidney, Broad, Mersey, Medway, Petite, Lahave, Mushamush, Martins, Gold, Middle, East (the one west of Halifax), Musquodoboit, West, East (the other East River next to Sheet Harbour), Salmon, Moser, Ecum Secum, Liscomb, Gaspereaux, St. Mary’s, Larry’s, Salmon (the other one near Guysborough), Southwest Mabou, Mabou, Margaree, Fishing Cove, and the North Aspy.  Not to mention dozens of brooks and streams.

I passed through several hundred cities, towns, and hamlets with names that include one of these words: Bay, Basin, Cove, Harbour, Lake, or Point.

I saw at least one moose, beaver, seal, deer, whale, bald eagle, osprey, otter, fox, snake, turtle, frog, toad, squirrel, and chipmunk.

I slept in my tent in provincial park campgrounds, National park campgrounds, private campgrounds, a couple of backyards, and on crown land.  I also spent the night in several inns, hotel, and motels, as well as in a couple of apartments, four houses or cottages, a glamping tent, a yurt, a fancy manor inn, an RV, and on the floor of a house under renovation. Somehow I missed sleeping in a barn.

I lost about 5 lbs in weight in total and about an inch off my waistline, and gained a few pounds of leg muscle.

I saw the following objects by the side of the road:

  • A spoon, a fork, a knife, in separate locations hundreds of km apart
  • A kids backyard play set
  • Enough furniture to fit out a living room including a sofa, an armchair, several coffee tables, and an ottoman
  • A ladies black patent leather pump, left foot, 3 inch heel, fortunately empty
  • A men’s black rubber boot, also empty
  • Several tires
  • Many banana peels
  • Hundreds of work gloves

With hand on heart, I can truthfully sing:

I’ve been to Ecum Secum and I’ve been to Chezzetcook.  

I’ve passed through East Port Medway and I’ve walked to Necum Teuch.  

I’ve crossed the River Mushamush and been to Mushaboom.  

I climbed up Cape North mountain and I’ve seen the lilacs bloom.

From Barrington to St Lawrence Bay I’ve hiked through many trials,

And from cape to cape along the way I’ve gotten a million smiles.

The Blooper Reel

When you take on any project, there will be mistakes made and lessons learned.  I am the first to admit that I got lucky on several occasions – the God of Fools was watching over me.  

First and foremost, had I started my journey just a few days later in May, I would have been stopped right away by the forest fires near Shelburne.  And despite central Nova Scotia getting flooded out with rain for days on end in June, I really only had a few bad-weather days to walk in the rain.  So luck played a big part in my ability to complete the journey with minimal fuss.

But the God of Fools also made sure that I was bitten on the arse by my own mistakes, just to make sure that I learned something:

  • Like when I tried to follow the maps I was using, stubbornly, when my own eyes told me that there wasn’t a road there to follow.
  • Like when I didn’t check my map and just assumed I was on the right road, which took me several km in the wrong direction near Voglers Cove.
  • Like when I made accommodation arrangements in advance, but forgot to change or cancel them when I changed my plans.  I ended up cancelling things last minute, too late to get a full refund, or even a partial refund in some cases.
  • Like when I refused to use bug spray but sat out anyway amidst swarms of black flies.  I was bitten so badly in Sheet Harbour that my ears and right arm were swollen and puffed out red, itchy blisters.
  • Like when I didn’t keep my water bottles full and ran low in high temps, near Judique, and nearly collapsed from heat exhaustion.

My Favourite Things

Lupins and daisies and ferns in green grasses,

Sunlight that dazzles the sea through my glasses.

Lichens on rocks and the ferns under forest,

Blue jays and robins and the crows in their chorus.

Tumbling water and waves on sands sings,

These Scotian delights are my favourite things.

Ahem.  Apologies for the parody.  But here are a few of my favourite things from the journey:

  • Favourite coffee – Uprooted Cafe in Musquodoboit Harbour
  • Favourite fish and chips – Seaside Seafoods in Hunts Point
  • Favourite sandwich – the breakfast wrap from LaHave Bakery in LaHave 
  • Favourite meal – tie between the lobster dinner hosted by Jude Avery in Larry’s River and the dinner of pasta with cured shad roe prepared by Eric Southey in East Port Medway.
  • Favourite campground – Graves Island Provincial Park
  • Favourite bit of trail to walk – the stretch of the Celtic Shores Coastal Trail near Judique
  • Favourite moment – sitting by the Clyde River just listening to the water 

Thoughts

If there was one question that came up again and again from people I met, from Barrington to Bay St. Lawrence, it was “why are you walking this journey?”

There isn’t a single answer to that. What I told people during my journey was part of the answer: that I did it because I wanted to see if I could; that I wanted to explore the province and see places that I’d never visited before; and that deep down, I had this nagging feeling that I’m getting older and if I don’t do these things now, I may not get the chance in future.

But when I was a child, a middle child who was always content to imagine his own adventures, I would make lists, devouring mail order catalogues searching for jack knives and hiking boots and tents and sleeping bags and ropes and axes and all the things that I’d need for the journeys I wanted to make; borrow every book in the town library that told tales of adventures and explorations; and lacking the ability to actually buy the things I thought I wanted or travel off to strange lands, I’d cobble together backpacks from scraps of wood and an old pair of jeans and fill them with cookies and sandwiches and my pretend camping gear, to set off through the nearby fields and bush lots to find my dreams.

And now I am, perhaps, a grown-up child, able to peruse online catalogues to purchase real packs and tents and gear, and buy it and take some food and few clothes, to set off on actual adventures, sleeping in the woods and meeting strange creatures and overcoming fierce adversity to accomplish my quest.  Are we not all kids at heart, at least some of the time?  Maybe deep down, this was my boy’s own adventure.  

I don’t know, to be honest.  I’m sure I walked this for many reasons, only some of which are transparent to me.  But I do know that I’m glad that I did it.

*****

What was the best part of the journey?  Hands down, I’d have to say it was meeting the many, many people who stopped to chat with me.  I had dozens of interesting conversations, with people in every community I passed through, always with smiles and often handshakes as well as a few hugs.  

The kindness shown, again and again, reaffirmed my belief that most people, in most places most of the time, are decent, warm, thoughtful, and caring, and to be able to share their thoughts as I passed through their community remains my enduring memory. 

*****

There were often times when I’d be explaining my journey to someone and they would ask, “are you doing this on your own?”  And I would say yes, I’m walking it solo.  

Maybe I was in a physical sense, but I was never alone.  Ann was always with me.  She was constantly in my thoughts, and we would touch base several times a day.  

But deeper than that, she was with me because she’s a part of me.  We’ve been through a lot together.  I could not have completed this kind of journey without her support.  Thank you, my love.

What next?

More walks, of course.  I have my bucket list of journeys, and I hope to cross off a few more.  Ann has relatives in Ireland who are getting older, we haven’t been there in a few years, and we know we need to get there soon.  Maybe a walk or 3 there could be next.

And of course, I’ve only scratched the surface of Nova Scotia and the Maritimes; parks I haven’t visited, places I haven’t seen.  I’d love to walk the shores of the Bay of Fundy, along both the New Brunswick and Nova Scotia coasts; do the circular hike round Kejimkujik National Park or the coastal path along Cape Chignecto Provincial Park; the rail trail along the Annapolis Valley; or more of Cape Breton Island, along the eastern shore.

But in the short term, I think it’s about consolidation.  Sorting out what I learned, what I liked, what I’m leery of repeating.  Saving up.  Planning and preparing.

And lastly, I think, there’s some writing to do.  I told myself on this walk that I should try to turn this into something publishable.  So let’s see. 

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Walking Nova Scotia – Cape to Cape Post #8

Robert Bradt

Between May 18 and July 5 of 2023, I walked from The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, the southern tip of Nova Scotia, to its northern tip at Cape North on Cape Breton Island, a 1000+ km trek. This is the story of part of that journey.  See these posts to read about the whole journey:

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year.  The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this.  If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where am I now?

In my hotel in Bay St. Lawrence, drinking Lunenburg Ironworks Bluenose Rum from a tea mug and eating a somewhat worse-for-wear bar of Peace By Chocolate that I’ve been carting around in my pack for two weeks since Antigonish, after completing my journey by reaching Cape North.  Done.

*****

How I got here from Cheticamp, the précis version: 

  • followed the Cabot Trail highway through Cape Breton Highlands National Park and on past it to the town of Cape North
  • turned north and followed the Bay St Lawrence road to that town, at the top of the island. 
  • from there, slogged up the Money Point Road to reach the lighthouse
  • slogged back the same way to return to the hotel where I’m staying

*****

There was a bit more to it than that of course.  When I left Cheticamp, I had a ride booked to take me to where I’d left off, at the parking lot for the Skyline Trail.  It was July 1, Canada Day, and I was expecting the road to be busy, but for the first hour I mostly had the road to myself.  Quiet enough, in fact, that I saw a moose about 30 meters into the bog and bush.  

Shortly afterwards, a Mountie passed me and waved.  And when I thought about the beaver I’d seen the day before, I reckoned that was as Canadian of a hat trick as you could want on Canada Day.  Eh.

I had climbed to the interior plateau the previous day, so it was relatively easy walking up and down modest dips and rises before beginning the descent to Pleasant Bay.  There were several viewing points along the way and I took advantage of those for rest stops in the muggy heat.  

Dropping from 400 meters to near sea level takes only about 4-5 km, so the road twists through S-bends, sometimes at about 8% grades. 

It was hard on my legs, tougher in fact than the climb the day before.

And I crossed out of the Park and entered Pleasant Bay.

With clouds building, I chugged on through, stopping only at the local restaurant to borrow their Wifi for a few minutes to send a text home, and at the general store to pick up dinner – ramen noodles! – pressing on to reach MacIntosh Brook campground before 3:00.

I was worried because there are only about 10 spots at that campground and I had visions of no room at the inn.  But when I arrived to see about 6 or 7 cars in the parking lot, I was surprised, in looking around, to see no tents or campers.  There’s a short hiking trail out of that campground and apparently everyone else was off on that.

I walked around and picked a good spot, set up my tent, and went into the well-equipped cooking shelter.  Empty.  I quickly unpacked my cooking gear and made myself a cup of tea.  I spread out my gear.  I took off my shoes.  I plugged in my phone to charge, and got out the iPad to read a book.  I made myself quite at home, really.

And then it started to rain.  It was still sunny off to the west, so I thought it would be brief, but two hours later it was still raining.  All the hikers had left and I had the place to myself.  I was starting to think about sleeping in the cooking shelter when a young single mom arrived with two kids.  

Her English was only moderately better than my horrible French, and we had one of those fractured conversations where the gist of the meaning gets across with gestures and the occasional word.

And then after a while three cyclists arrived, and set up.  And before I knew it we were having a very Canadian conversation, swapping thoughts on the virtues of different camping gear and where to get it, sharing travel stories, and comparing horror stories about the bane of outdoor life in Canada – mosquitoes, black flies, deer flies, and horse flies – “and then a big one flew right up my nose!”

A very fitting end to Canada Day.

*****

In the morning I was up early, finishing breakfast and packing up to make an early start – it promised to be hot and muggy, and I had another climb day to do.  It’s 15 km from MacIntosh Brook to the east edge of the Park where the Big Intervale campground is located.  To get there you have about 350 meters of vertical up and vertical down to do.  

The road rises gently at first, and when the hills start you’re quickly onto an 8%-9% grade – nearly a meter of height gain for every 10 meters forward.  

I took it slowly, sweat dripping in the muggy heat.  The road shoulder sometimes narrows to near nothing, so I was listening for oncoming traffic while walking the road.  A cyclist passed me, pushing himself steadily, weaving across the road sometimes, but never stopping. “Allez, allez, allez!”, I shouted, and he grinned through gritted teeth.

It took me more than an hour to crest the mountain and reach the plateau.  I took a break there sitting on the steps of an emergency shelter, and took off my soaked shirt to dry for a bit in the wind.

The downhill, like before, was harder on my legs than the up.  I could feel my Achilles tendons protesting as I gradually moved from viewing point to viewing point, until I finally reached the lower flat section.

The Big Intervale campground was a major disappointment.  I had known in advance that it was unserviced, but so was MacIntosh Brook.  I was dismayed to see that in this case “unserviced” meant no running water, no flush toilets, no cooking shelter, no food storage lockers or decent trees to hang a food bag, and only 3 lousy tent sites with minimal trees to screen and provide some shelter.  And it was forecast to rain that night.

I hemmed and hawed.  Stay?  Press on 12 km (and 145 meters more climb) to the town of Cape North, where there was a hostel?  Or try to hitch a lift back to MacIntosh Brook?

I didn’t have the energy to get to Cape North, and staying put seemed a last resort, so I ended up by the side of the road with my thumb out.  No takers for nearly an hour while I was being nipped by flies.  Granted, I did look sweaty and my prominent backpack was probably off-putting as well.  And then a young family of 5, and their dog, stopped and I piled into their van.  

We chatted away for the 10 minute ride – did you see any moose? Yes, one.  We saw 5!  Where are you going? Guess how much my pack weighs?  Was that your green tent at MacIntosh Brook yesterday? – we saw it when we came out of the trail there.

They were lovely, gracious, and didn’t overtly wrinkle their noses at my sweaty aroma, and I thanked them profusely when they dropped me off.  A Trail Angel family.

That night, once again it seemed like I’d be the only camper and I was actually preparing to just sleep in the cook shelter, when a family came in just as it was getting dark.  I didn’t want them coming in to find me sleeping on a bench, so I quickly set up my tent and crawled in, as swarms of mosquitoes buzzed against the mesh.  

*****

It rained fairly hard overnight, and during a lull in the drops at 6:30 in the morning I quickly packed up and moved everything into the cook shelter.  I spread the tent out to dry, made breakfast, and got myself organized for the day.  After the previous day’s experience, I was reckoning on another hour or more to hitch a lift back to Big Intervale.

And then a park employee came by to check on things, and we got chatting about my journey, which he must have found interesting enough that he become Trail Angel #2, breaking the rules to give me a lift back to where I’d left off.  

A 2-hour walk in off-and-on rain brought me to Cape North, where I had been looking forward to breakfast at the only restaurant in town.  It was closed when I got there, however, opening in about 30 minutes, so I wandered down to the local general store to pick up some groceries.  Turns out dinner and lunch and breakfast for the next two days were about to be tortilla wraps with cheese and sardines, fruit cups, and some yogurt drinks for the vitamins.

After catching up on email while I had lunch at the restaurant (after 2 days of no cell data or voice service in the park), I finished my day reaching a little place that offered very basic hiker cabins for the night.  

But the outdoor shower I took in the rain was refreshing, steaming under hot water while cold drops fell from the sky.  And while the hut was just a roof and walls and a simple bed, it was worth it when the heavens poured a deluge overnight, hammering on the tin overhead at 4 a.m. 

*****

And then the next day, it was off to Bay St Lawrence, after stopping for an hour to have coffee with Gerard, the owner of the rustic cabins.  A very personable and friendly native of the area, he gave me some great tips about the Cape North trail.

The road was surprisingly busy with traffic, but it didn’t take long to climb up into the hills and over a low pass to come down into St Margaret’s Village

and then on to Bay St Lawrence.  

I headed straight for the local seafood takeaway, and arrived to find it closed.  Since I was by the water anyway, I made sure to take a selfie standing at the very end of the road, the northernmost bit you can drive to on the Island, and took a pic looking back south.

I went up to the motel where I was staying and wimped out on camping on their grounds, instead opting to stay in an RV they keep for overflow guests.  I didn’t think I’d sleep that night, but eventually did, after walking back down to buy fish and chips from the seafood shack which had in fact opened for the evening.

*****

And then this morning, it was up with the birds, eating quickly, and putting only day essentials into the pack.  I took a selfie and sent it to Ann, who said I looked way too serious.

But the thought of climbing over the mountain that you can see over my shoulder, and then back again, was weighing me down.  That, and the realization that I was a few hours away from the finish.

The climb up, and then down the other side, was every bit as tough as I had thought it would be.

The old road that the lighthouse keepers used to use is now essentially just a very rough rocky trail, rising in spots at about a 20%-25% grade – a meter of rise every 4 or 5 forward.

It took me more than 2 hours to cover the 5 or 6 km distance to the other side, with a few close shaves where fallen trees nearly blocked the trail completely.  

Stumbling down the last few meters brought me to a rough path along open grassy meadows at the foot of the cliff, the last bit of northward trek to do.

I swore out loud when, just a few meters from reaching the point, coastal erosion almost stopped me – there was a narrow, looks-dodgy-but-what-choice-do-I-have, more-or-less way past, 

and then I was through and standing at the base of the light.

I took the selfies that I had told myself I would, and tried to smile or at least look like I was happy to be there.

But I couldn’t sit down.  I wandered around for a bit, exploring and finding some photo worthy sights,

and then set off to see if I could get water at a brook that was on my map.  I found the stream

and filled the bag of my water filter kit, clambering up from the stream to walk back to where I’d left my pack, and then had to retrace my steps to pick up the filter hose that I’d dropped.

By the time I sat down to eat something, it had started to mizzle a light mist, the kind that gets you wet without seeming to rain hard.

I asked myself what I was thinking.  I hoped for something profound, but maybe that will come in hindsight.  All roads come to an end, and if you’re lucky it’s where you wanted to go.

And then, just like that, I packed up, and turned to go – walking south for the first time in 7 weeks.

Sleeps and Eats

This was a feed-myself stretch – oatmeal, dried fruit, cheese, tortilla wraps, ramen, and granola bars.  There’s a grocery store in Cheticamp, but after that just a couple of modest general stores in Pleasant Bay and Cape North.

I did have a takeaway fisherman’s platter from the Seaside Shack in Bay St Lawrence.  Meh.  But I was hungry.

Oh, and I had a decent fish lunch at Morrisons in Cape North – that was ok, the staff were friendly, and they let me park my soppy, wet-clothed butt for almost 2 hours while I poached their wifi.

As for stays, there were two camping nights in the Park at the MacIntosh Brook campground.  I liked it – the only thing missing was a hot shower, but with essentially no one there, I made do with a standup washcloth bath and that was refreshing enough.

Gerard’s place, which he calls Asbaigh-a-Tuath (the Gaelic for Aspy Bay), is deliberately quite simple.  It’s basically the same price as a campsite in a private campground, without the RVs and with a roof instead of a tent.  It suited me fine, and meeting Gerard was a bonus.

Finally, I am currently at Burton’s Sunset Oasis motel in Bay St Lawrence. It’s a small 5-room place that books up in summer, as it’s the only motel in town.  It’s simple, very clean and tidy, has kitchenette facilities in each room, and a great view back to the west over the town.

Stories

I was sitting at a scenic lookout, about an hour’s walk outside of  Pleasant Bay.  There had been a little gaggle of cars and gawkers there when I arrived, but in the way of the Cabotistas they took their selfies and quickly motored on. Once they left it was peaceful, and I sat in the sun enjoying the quiet.

A car pulled in with Ontario plates and two couples got out, a bit older than me I thought. They saw my pack and came over.  We got chatting about my walk, and then one of the ladies asked “so where are you from?”

“Lunenburg.”

“Oh, were you born there?”

“No, I was born in the most southerly place in Canada.”

“Leamington! You were born in Leamington?  We’re from Leamington too!”

And then a cascade of “Do you know so and so?” followed.

After a bit of further chat, one of the guys just shook his head and chuckled- “ what are the odds?”, he said.

*****

At another scenic stop, I walked in to see a car parked and a mom and dad taking pics of their kids with the view in the background.  I slumped off the backpack and sat on the guardrail to catch my breath.

The dad noticed and came over, and we started chatting.  He asked where I was walking to, and I explained about the tip to tip thing.  He was from Michigan, so I tried to convert kilometres to miles for him.  “Wow, that’s impressive.” He turned to his teenage daughter and drew her in – “did you hear that, he’s walking the whole of Nova Scotia”.  Then asked if he could pick up my pack.  “Holy cow, you’re carrying that!?!”.  “Yep”.  

Why does everyone want to know how much my pack weighs?

*****

I had finished the journey, reached the Cape, and now I was on my way back.  It had been tiring already, and I was halfway up the mountain on the return when I thought I heard voices.  Huh?

I looked up to see two people coming down, soon joined by two more.  The pair of couples were from Britain, and they asked what I had thought of the Cape.  “It was pretty special, especially for me since it’s the end of a long journey – I’ve walked a 1000 kilometres the length of Nova Scotia to get here”.

“Well, then we’re glad that we didn’t get there too soon and disturb you.”

“Yes, thank you for that.”

“Where next?”

“Well, actually I’ve always wanted to walk Lands End to John o’Groats”.

“Oh you should.”

Yes, I thought, I should.  But not now.

Where next?

Home.  Well, Baddeck first, and then Mabou.  But I can’t wait to get home.

Route

Here’s the original plan.  I have more or less followed it as written, though had some changes due to the fires around Halifax.  But I’m done.  Time for step 33.

  1. Start at The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, and follow coastal roads to reach Barrington Passage.  
  2. Pick up the Shelburne County Rail trail and follow it to Clyde River
  3. Then walk along the tedious Highway 103 to Shelburne
  4. Where you’ll get back onto the rail trail to walk to Lockeport
  5. And then from Lockport, continue following the rail trail through and past the Tidney River Wilderness area to reach Highway 3 at Summerville.
  6. Where you continue on the highway for a bit and then get back onto the rail trail to reach Liverpool
  7. And then continue on the rail trail up to around Port Medway, before exiting onto Route 331, the Lighthouse Route coastal road, to walk all the way to LeHave.
  8. From LeHave, take the ferry over the river and walk to Lunenburg on the local back roads, and then 
  9. From Lunenburg, take the Rum Runners Trail through Mahone Bay, past Chester, and on past Hubbards to Upper Tantallon, and then
  10. Detour south onto the Joshua Slocum Trail to reach old dirt roads through Five Bridges Wilderness Area to reach Glen Margaret, where you
  11. Pick up Route 333, the Peggy’s Cove Road, to walk down to the lighthouse, and then bear east towards Prospect to connect with 
  12. The Old Halifax road which takes you north back to Glen Margaret
  13. Where you connect onto the old St. Margaret’s Bay Road to walk east to Halifax
  14. And then walk through the city to the ferry terminal.
  15. There you catch the ferry over to Woodside in Dartmouth
  16. To reach the Shearwater Flyer rail trail, which takes you northeast to Lawrencetown
  17. Where you follow back roads to Porters Lake and then onto Highway 7 to reach Chezzetcook,
  18. And then keep following Highway 7, past Musquodoboit, Jeddore, Ship Harbour, Spry Bay, Sheet Harbour, Moosehead, Ecum Secum, and Liscombe, all the way to Sherbrooke.
  19. Where you turn onto Route 211 and follow the coast road northeast to Isaacs Harbour, and then 
  20. Branch onto Route 316 and follow that to Larry’s River.
  21. At Larry’s River, you follow (natch), Larry’s River Road north to reach Highway 16 outside Guysborough,
  22. And Highway 16 takes you to Boylston where you get onto Route 344, which
  23. Bears northeast and then north and then west, around the coast to Aulds Cove, where the TransCanada Highway Canso Causeway clambers across to Cape Breton Island.
  24. You feet fall onto the Celtic Shore Coastal Trail, and follow that all the way to Inverness.
  25. From Inverness, follow Highway 19 to Dunvegan and then branch onto Route 219 along the coast to Margaree Harbour.
  26. Pick up Highway 30 and follow that to Cheticamp, and Grand Etang where you’ll enter Cape Breton Highlands National Park.
  27. Follow hiking trails, including the Skyline Trail, northwards before rejoining Highway 30 again.
  28. Continue along that north until you reach Fishing Cove, and detour there down hiking trails to the water.
  29. Retrace your steps back to Highway 30 (the Cabot Trail) and follow it north to Pleasant Bay
  30. Turn the corner and follow the Cabot Trail east, up across the island past Big Intervale and Sunrise to reach the hamlet of Cape North (not the actual Cape North, just yet).
  31. Turn onto the Bay Saint Lawrence Road and follow that to Bay Saint Lawrence.
  32. Follow the Money Point Road to reach your goal, the lighthouse at Cape North!
  33. Walk back to Bay Saint Lawrence and meet your darling wife who will drive you to Baddeck for a well-earned rest

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Walking Nova Scotia – Cape to Cape Post #7

Robert Bradt

Between May 18 and July 5 of 2023, I walked from The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, the southern tip of Nova Scotia, to its northern tip at Cape North on Cape Breton Island, a 1000+ km trek. This is the story of part of that journey.  See these posts to read about the whole journey:

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year.  The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this.  If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where am I now?

Cheticamp.  I arrived yesterday (June 29) and am spending two nights here.

To get here, I left Inverness and followed Highway 19 for a bit before turning off onto a Shore road, the Broad Cove Marsh Road, a decision that was rewarded with some amazing views down the coast and over the water.

This took me to Dunvegan, where I joined Route 219 for a tedious, humid, misty/rainy, sweltering slog to Whale Cove, (though I did get a nice sunset there),

and then on to Margaree Harbour.  I picked up the Cabot Trail here,

after a short detour (let’s not call it a navigation mistake) through the town past the harbour and a lovely white wooden church

and back to the highway.  The road crosses the Margaree River and the wind that day was blowing from the right direction to cause the steel bridge structure to hum like a wind chime, holding a note which brought to mind the long E-major piano chord at the end of the Beatles’ A Day In The Life.

After that, it was road-walking along the Cabot Trail all the way past St Joseph du Moine, Grand Étang, 

and finally into Cheticamp.  It was a gusty, windy day, and with my pack acting like a sail I was blown off balance several times.  And the wind played more music, as it set the overhead wires singing and the long grasses swaying.

And then today (June 30) I walked out from the town, about 6 kilometres to reach Cape Breton Highlands National Park.

Almost immediately, I was rewarded by the sight of a young beaver swimming in a small pond next to the road,

a sight that makes me feel extra Canadian on the eve of Canada Day.

Soon after that little shot of Canuckness, I turned off the road and followed a couple of the hiking trails – the Chemin du Buttereau 

and the Vieux Chemin de Cap-Rouge, both of which trace the old roads used by the Acadian settlers who lived in the area prior to the creation of the park in 1936.  

They were similar in terms of scenery, I.e. you didn’t see much other than the forest that’s regrown over the land 

since the Acadians’ land was expropriated for the park, but that’s a reminder of the reason today’s Nova Scotia Acadian population still holds deep feelings about the many ways they were shoved about since 1748 as pawns of first the colonial and later the provincial powers.

Together these two trails took me to about Cap-Rouge, and from there I slowly climbed the Cabot Trail highway 

past the veterans monument that always brings a tear to my eye – there is one of these placed in a national park in every province.  I took my hat off and stood quietly for a moment.

And after that moment was ended by a family of three driving up and taking pics of each of other with the coastline in the background, I trudged onwards, relentlessly up and up and up.

Rounding a corner, I could see small windswept little trees hugging the top of the next mountain, and then realized the trees were moving – I was looking at other hikers exposed above me as they did the Skyline Trail.  

I ended the day when I reached the parking lot for that trail, and cursed a bit that I wasn’t able to hike it – I would have liked to have done but since it’s a loop that takes 3-4 hours to do, it doesn’t get me closer to my finish.  Another time.

Here are the stats so far:

  • Total kilometres walked – 956
  • Total # of days spent walking – 40
  • Total # of steps walked – 1,297,000+
  • Total # of hours spent walking – about 243
  • Total # of stairs climbed according to FitBit –  4148


Sleeps and Eats

Hmm, less to tell here.  The AirBnB in Cheticamp is quite nice and centrally located in town near the grocery store.  As a result I am enjoying two nights of my own cooking, along with some nice Nova Scotia wine.

That’s with the knowledge that the remainder of this trip will be backpacking food – ramen, couscous, oatmeal, dried fruit, pumpkin seeds, and turkey jerky.  Yum!

The stay at Whale Cove is best left alone on the theory that if you can’t say something nice then don’t say anything at all.

And beyond that, I’ve only stopped at one place for lunch, the Belle View restaurant in Belle Cote just outside Margaree Harbour.  They make a perfectly respectable breakfast, which kept me going for a few hours.

Stories

As I was taking a water break at a little photo op spot on the Cabot Trail outside Belle Cote, a cyclist came in for a quick water break as well.  I walked over to her.  “Where did you start this morning?”.  “Dingwall”, she said.  Holy crap, I thought, that’s at least 90 km from here, and she’s not even sweating, as I looked down at my soaked T-shirt.

“Good ride?  At least it’s downhill for you from that direction”.

“Yes, but this headwind (she was going south) is annoying. It was so strong it pulled my helmet back and strained my neck.”

“Well, on the bright side”, I said in a voice that would have had my son rolling his eyes at my Dad tone, “at least it keeps the bugs down.”

“Thanks for that positive spin”, she said, and sped off nonchalantly towards Baddeck, another 50+ km in front of her, and she still wasn’t sweating!  Lord, to be young.

And then 5 minutes later a guy on a cycle passed me, whom I assumed to be her partner.  He was grunting uphill into the wind as we met, and I shouted out “you eat headwinds for breakfast!”  If he was her partner, I pictured them comparing notes at the end of day and joking about the old guy they’d seen backpacking.

*****

When I got to the Park, I went into the visitor center to see if there was anything they could tell me about walking through.  I explained what I was doing to the young guy behind the desk.  He got up and had a quick chat with his colleague.  “This guy is walking through the park.  What pass does he need?”, I overheard.  “Why?”, she asked.  More huddled conversation.  He came back, and after some fiddling decided that I needed a three-day visitor’s pass, but since the next day was Canada Day which was free, and the next day was Sunday which think he said was also free, charged me $8.50 for a one-day pass.  I guess they don’t get a lot of foot traffic.

*****

Because I was staying in Cheticamp again after walking partway through the Park, I had arranged for a ride service to pick me up at the end of the day’s walk and bring me back to town.  The driver pulled up and I put my stuff in and climbed into the front seat.  We got chatting.

“So where did you start from?”

“This morning from Cheticamp, and overall from Cape Sable Island.  I’m walking the length of Nova Scotia.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned 60 this year”.

Glances, gives me a once-over.  “Crap”, he thinks to himself so loudly I can hear it, “he’s in better shape than I am and I’m younger than he is”.  

We natter for a bit about training and exercise and then I said that really this trip was about the journey, exploring the province.  I explained that I’d resolved to find at least one moment every day when things are peaceful and calm, to remind myself that there’s always a good moment if you stop to notice it when it happens.

He looked at me and nodded, then shared a very personal story of loss, and I could only say how sorry I was.  He shook his head –  “Thank you for telling me that, about finding that moment every day.  That helps.”

We got to my place and I tried to give him a tip along with the fee.  “Keep it.  Just don’t charge me for the therapy you just provided”.

We shook hands as I got out, and I was reminded again that the people I meet on this journey are the best reason for doing it.

Where next?

Looking at my plan, I have less than a 100 km to go, though there is more than 4000m of climb and descent in that.  Ann texted to remind me that I am now 5 sleeps from my goal.  It’s hitting me now, I’m close.  

From tomorrow it’s two more days to finish walking through the Park, then on to Cape North the town and turn left towards Aspy Bay for a night, then keep going up to Bay St Lawrence to sleep if I can on the last night, and then it’s up over the mountain to the Cape North lighthouse for a selfie before a return climb over the mountain to Bay St Lawrence.  Et Finis.

Route

Here’s the original plan.  I have more or less followed it as written until part way through Step 9, where I had to move off the trail, skip steps 10-13, and just followed the road from East Chester and through Halifax (step 14).  

This latest bit has seen me complete Steps 25-27, though I have to skip Step as I can’t go to Fishing Cove so from here it’s onto Step 29.  After that, it’s still more or less the plan as described.  

  1. Start at The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, and follow coastal roads to reach Barrington Passage.  
  2. Pick up the Shelburne County Rail trail and follow it to Clyde River
  3. Then walk along the tedious Highway 103 to Shelburne
  4. Where you’ll get back onto the rail trail to walk to Lockeport
  5. And then from Lockport, continue following the rail trail through and past the Tidney River Wilderness area to reach Highway 3 at Summerville.
  6. Where you continue on the highway for a bit and then get back onto the rail trail to reach Liverpool
  7. And then continue on the rail trail up to around Port Medway, before exiting onto Route 331, the Lighthouse Route coastal road, to walk all the way to LeHave.
  8. From LeHave, take the ferry over the river and walk to Lunenburg on the local back roads, and then 
  9. From Lunenburg, take the Rum Runners Trail through Mahone Bay, past Chester, and on past Hubbards to Upper Tantallon, and then
  10. Detour south onto the Joshua Slocum Trail to reach old dirt roads through Five Bridges Wilderness Area to reach Glen Margaret, where you
  11. Pick up Route 333, the Peggy’s Cove Road, to walk down to the lighthouse, and then bear east towards Prospect to connect with 
  12. The Old Halifax road which takes you north back to Glen Margaret
  13. Where you connect onto the old St. Margaret’s Bay Road to walk east to Halifax
  14. And then walk through the city to the ferry terminal.
  15. There you catch the ferry over to Woodside in Dartmouth
  16. To reach the Shearwater Flyer rail trail, which takes you northeast to Lawrencetown
  17. Where you follow back roads to Porters Lake and then onto Highway 7 to reach Chezzetcook,
  18. And then keep following Highway 7, past Musquodoboit, Jeddore, Ship Harbour, Spry Bay, Sheet Harbour, Moosehead, Ecum Secum, and Liscombe, all the way to Sherbrooke.
  19. Where you turn onto Route 211 and follow the coast road northeast to Isaacs Harbour, and then 
  20. Branch onto Route 316 and follow that to Larry’s River.
  21. At Larry’s River, you follow (natch), Larry’s River Road north to reach Highway 16 outside Guysborough,
  22. And Highway 16 takes you to Boylston where you get onto Route 344, which
  23. Bears northeast and then north and then west, around the coast to Aulds Cove, where the TransCanada Highway Canso Causeway clambers across to Cape Breton Island.
  24. You feet fall onto the Celtic Shore Coastal Trail, and follow that all the way to Inverness.
  25. From Inverness, follow Highway 19 to Dunvegan and then branch onto Route 219 along the coast to Margaree Harbour.
  26. Pick up Highway 30 and follow that to Cheticamp, and Grand Etang where you’ll enter Cape Breton Highlands National Park.
  27. Follow hiking trails, including the Skyline Trail, northwards before rejoining Highway 30 again.
  28. Continue along that north until you reach Fishing Cove, and detour there down hiking trails to the water.
  29. Retrace your steps back to Highway 30 (the Cabot Trail) and follow it north to Pleasant Bay
  30. Turn the corner and follow the Cabot Trail east, up across the island past Big Intervale and Sunrise to reach the hamlet of Cape North (not the actual Cape North, just yet).
  31. Turn onto the Bay Saint Lawrence Road and follow that to Bay Saint Lawrence.
  32. Follow the Money Point Road to reach your goal, the lighthouse at Cape North!
  33. Walk back to Bay Saint Lawrence and meet your darling wife who will drive you to Baddeck for a well-earned rest

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Walking Nova Scotia – Cape to Cape Post #5

Robert Bradt

Between May 18 and July 5 of 2023, I walked from The Hawk on Cape Sable Island, the southern tip of Nova Scotia, to its northern tip at Cape North on Cape Breton Island, a 1000+ km trek. This is the story of part of that journey.  See these posts to read about the whole journey:

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year.  The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this.  If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where am I now?

Cape Breton Island! 

I scrambled across the causeway 

to reach Port Hastings this afternoon, and then took a taxi to Port Hawkesbury where there’s more choice for places to stay and shops.

To get here since I last posted from Port Bickerton on Sunday, June 18, I’ve walked through Country Harbour, Isaac’s Harbour, Goldboro, Drum Head, Larry’s River, Guysborough, Boylston, Monastery, Linwood, Havre Boucher, and Aulds Cove.

The weather was rainy and cold at the start of this stretch, but by the time I got here summer was well and truly in force – blue skies,  blazing sunshine, and sweltering temps.  

And, by the way, the little corner of the province tucked along the Northumberland Strait by Cape Jack is gorgeous – green rolling fields with a background of blue seas and the mountains of Cape Breton.  My morning walk today was wonderful, meandering the backroads to Havre Boucher.  

Oh, and I can’t forget to mention the lovely rolling hills around Guysborough and Milford Haven.  

Or the rugged countryside between Goldsboro and Seal Cove.  

Or the Acadian charm of Larry’s River.  

This past week has taken me though parts of the province which were not only new to me, they also surprised me with their history and the strength of their communities.  This was the best part of my trip so far, and that’s saying something on a journey that’s been full of great experiences.

Here are some stats about the walk so far:

  • Total kilometres walked – 765
  • Total # of days spent walking – 33
  • Total # of steps walked – 1,037,000+
  • Total # of hours spent walking – about 194
  • Total # of flights of stairs climbed according to FitBit –  3062

Looking ahead, I have just under 260 km still to go, give or take a few.  I have 11 more walking days planned – still unsure whether I need to add one.  

Sleeps and Eats

This stretch has not only surprised me with the scenery and history, the stays and meals have been full of unexpected charms.

In Drum Head, I stopped at the Market store and met Martin, the owner.  We had corresponded previously and I’d asked him about places where I might camp.  When I arrived, wet after a misty/foggy/chilly day, I wasn’t really looking forward to setting up my still wet tent but gamely approached him for advice.  After looking at the map, and not seeing anything that appealed, he offered to let me sleep around the back of a house he owned that was being renovated.

We walked over to see what would work, and he mentioned that the plumbing was partly done so there was cold water plus a working toilet.  We went into the house to check that, and I looked around to see that the floors were down and the windows in, while outside fog swirled and sopping wet grasses sagged mournfully – “can I camp out in here?”, I asked.  Sure he said, so that’s what I did; spread out my sleeping gear under a dry roof and kipped down quite comfortably.

And, since he owned a general store full of foods, I picked out a frozen pizza which he baked for me for dinner, then in the morning he made me a breakfast burrito and a cheese wrap for my lunch.  Simple but tasty and very much appreciated.

The next night in Larry’s River was even more interesting.  I stayed at a lovely B&B called Murphy‘s Inn, which was very comfortable and would have been a great evening all by itself.  But on top of that, Bob, the owner, had become interested in my journey when I explained what I was doing, and he arranged with a local author, historian, and raconteur named Jude Avery to have me invited to a lobster dinner party that Jude arranges on occasion.

What an evening!  Huge, perfectly cooked lobsters were the featured course, along with salads, wines, cakes, and cookies – I was properly stuffed at the end.  

And even better than the food was the conversation, on subjects ranging from my journey, to the youthful antics of some of the dinner guests, to the history of the Acadian deportations in the 1750’s.  I had a wonderful time, and I can’t say thank you enough to everyone who made me feel so welcome, especially Jude, the host.

After that, my stay in Guysborough seems a bit anticlimactic, but of course it wasn’t because Ann joined me for a couple of nights.  We stayed at the Desbarres Manor Inn, a bit of luxury compared to my camping nights.  Since I had planned for a rest day while she was there, we drove over to Antigonish for an afternoon of browsing the shops and enjoying a lingering lunch before returning to the Inn for a drink on the deck.

Leaving Guysborough, I walked to Linwood and camped for the night at the Linwood Harbour Campground, which was quite pleasant, though the bugs forced me into my tent before 8 pm.  We won’t talk about my Mac ‘n cheese meal.

Stories

Reaching Cape Breton Island is a major milestone for me.  But getting here over the causeway was more of a challenge than I thought.  I wasn’t sure if I could even walk across, because when I looked in detail at satellite pictures I couldn’t see a pedestrian pathway.  

And as I got closer to the on-ramp, the shoulder of the road faded to near nothingness.  I looked for signs saying No Pedestrian Access or some such thing but didn’t see anything.  I passed a truck weigh station with a security vehicle parked outside but no one shouted out to stop me.  

So I kept going, and found myself picking my way over a shattered jumble of rocks, which I assume are pushed up when winter ice jams against the structure, along with stray garbage and vehicle parts and other flotsam, tangled with straggly tall grasses and weeds.

It’s about 1.2 km across and it took me the best part of 20 minutes to do it.  And while perhaps I shouldn’t have walked it, I would have felt that I had cheated had I been forced to hitch a ride for this short but crucial piece.

*****

Trail Angels, part 2

  • Martin, owner of the Drum Head Market, who made me dinner, breakfast, and lunch, plus tea and coffee; let me camp in his under-renovation property; and kept me entertained with stories and conversation about the local area, wind and solar power generation, software development, and military history, amongst other things. 
  • Gary, owner of Gary’s Groceries in Havre Boucher, who let me sit in the shade on the deck of his house to cool off on a blazing morning.
  • The owner of the campground in Linwood who watched me squelch sweatily into the office to register, took a look at my soaked hat, shirt, and hair, and silently reached into the fridge to get a cold bottle of water, pushing it across the counter and letting me gulp down half before he asked me who I was
  • The woman in Port Hawkesbury (whom I swear was Mary Walsh or her twin sister), who called out from her pickup “I hope you’ve had a wonderful day” with a big smile, to end my day on a high note.

Where next?

This last leg of my journey will end when I reach the Cape North Lighthouse.  To get there, the immediate next step is to follow the Ceilidh Trail from Port Hastings to Inverness, staying in the Judique area, Port Hood, and Mabou along the way.

This is the heart of Gaelic Cape Breton, and a highlight for me will be visiting the Red Shoe pub in Mabou, where there’s always live music to enjoy.  

And between here and there, I have two days of rain in the forecast.  Time to get the wet gear out again.

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