Threat of Rain, No Idle Threat

Tuesday saw us pack up from Port Hood under lightly cloudy skies. (before we leave there, would like to mention the couple we met from Mass, US. They were in the campground in a classic re-done Airstream trailer. The exteriors aluminum was polished and the blue striped awning matched their blue gingham tablecloth. It was a beautiful rig. In conversation we learned that after "Ray" retired from the post office, he spotted an old "Bambi, Airstream" out behind a barn, bought it and spent the next four years re-doing it with hardwood floors etc. They enjoy making the rounds of the Airstream tours telling us there are even ones just for old classic Airstreams pulled by antique trucks. The Bambi is for sale... $15,000 US. Oh, to be rich! Also became intrigued with the small island off our shore called Hood Island. Jill just finished reading "The Guernsey Literary and Potatoe Peel Pie Society" set on Guernsey in the Channel Islands off England during the period just after WW2. Loved the book and the island characters so Hood Island duplicated what I envisioned Guernsey to be like. Through binoculars we could make out a group of about 14 well kept houses, three or four barns & two churches visible. We learned that there is only one die-hard full time resident. Everyone else had moved back to town, but kept ownership of the property and made regular trips over to maintain them. During the winter the harbour actually freezes and in the old day that was how supplies were transported.)

We headed up Hwy. 19 to the west side of the Cabot Trail. This is a beautiful road for motorcycles, especially without a tent trailer on behind. It winds up along the gorgeous coast of Cape Breton Island overlooking some magnificent shorelines lined with pink granite rock faces. There are numerous lookouts for sightseeing and photos. We took advantage of several of them but regrettably I missed the one where Jill caught a glimpse of a whale breeching. She tried horn beeping and yelling swear words for several kilometers until we reached our next stop, then told me, in machine gun like bursts, that I was paying too much attention to my radio and waving at other bikers. Perhaps I was because I did miss them. (Felt badly about my tirade after considering that Grant had the responsibility of leading the ride, setting the pace etc. , whilst I just merrily followed along) It was good though that I was picking up some weather forecasts. We encountered two long stretches of gravel construction zones. They seemed to go on forever.

Highland National Park is a true gem and as Bill had said, "It will be noticeable where Fed money is being put into the roads. The good surface starts exactly at the park boundary."

A lot of people were driving this road taking in the splendor. Many motorcycles and a lot of cyclist too. You really have to give the pedallers a lot of credit for being out there in the elements climbing those hills. We made a stop on the east side and used the binoculars to watch a couple of small boats out on the water with what appeared to be porpoises splashing around them.

The skies were still overcast but didn't look to bad, but I chose discretion over valor when we arrived at Ingonish Beach. I saw the Skyline Cabins sign and pulled off. The forecast still called for rain overnight and tomorrow. We checked into a nice little cabin and met Kramer their five year old golden lab who walked like he was fifteen. Maybe the extra weight he carried and the slope of the property contributed to this.

Here is where we made a decision that may surprise you. The facts are that the weather on Newfoundland has been very cool and the prospect is for rain in the long term. So with much disappointment we chose not to do the time, miles and expense of going over. (Jill, with some regret, takes the responsibility of this decision. We'd run into some bikers who lived in Newfoundland. They had left two days prior and the day time temp was a balmy 10 degrees. The weather is calling for several weather fronts to hit for the next few days. It was the end of the day. Felt tired and the sight of Donalda's Puffin Tours, departures daily, no longer held any interest. The fare to Newfoundland is $200 each way and the driving would amount to 1700 additional km. This decision is something I may come to regret, but Vancouver Island is a long way away and Jill is old.)

We settled in and decided to walk down to the foot of the steep driveway to the Main Street Restaurant across the highway. We had been warned that the food was good but the service was slow. We were not disappointed on either count. Our Steak Oscar was superb. Lots of scallops, crab and lobster in an asparagus cream sauce on top of a very nice cut of meat set in a pool of gravy and mushrooms. Baked potato and veggies to go along made for a very good meal. They also had a terrific selection of fresh baked goods to offer. We picked up a sample to take back to the cabin.

The rain still had not developed and the internet was spotty at best. So we relaxed into an old routine of watching Law & Order. The rich food disagreed with Jill's tummy so it was a restless night. The rain hit with full force justifying the extra cost of the cabin.

It was very hard to find the motivation to get out of bed the next morning with the sound of pelting rain outside, a box of Tums bedside & a flat screen TV overhead. But riding in the rain is the reality of motorcycle touring so donned the layers and set out for the last leg of the Cabot Trail, the descent of Old Smokie. We'd been warned it was pretty torturous and it was. Very poor road surface and a twisty turny descent. In the heavy rain we were riding in 2nd and 3rd gear and it was a tense ride which is tiring. Poor Grant took the brunt of it. The width of the trailer left him at the mercy of the road. The water sitting on the road surface filled any potholes. Jill riding behind took advantage of Grant's misfortune. When his wheel created a big splash warning a pothole lay underneath. The trees on either side of the road offered some protection from the wind, but once we hit open terrain the force of the wind off the Atlantic drove the rain up inside of our visors.

We took a short 10 minute ferry ride chatting briefly with a family motorcycle touring. They were from Ontario and their son rode behind the dad on his bike. This also gave us the opportunity to thank the driver of the car that had been stuck behind us during our Old Smokie descent. He was a local fella who had been most patient of our slow speeds and considerately kept way back.

The road from now on was smooth which was a blessing as the rainfall increased to the point that the tail lights and box of the semi ahead of us disappeared in a grey mist of water. Visibility was extremely poor. Grant was bravely in the lead. Jill laughed out loud at the lunacy of it, but there was no point in stopping as there were no villages or even gas stations for a 100k.

When we finally stopped at Port Hawkesbury, we looked at one another and burst out laughing. We plan to get some of the Arcteryx rain pants as our Marks Wearhouse ones were lacking abit, but for the most part we could travel swaddled with gear within our mini moving environments in relative comfort.Stopped with several other groups of "drowned rat" bikers at the A&W for a hot coffee and a brake.

The rain let up and we drove through New Glasgow on the semi-dry smooth highway thinking about our parting with Bill and Eunice at the Timmy's there. They have become our "face" of Nova Scotia and represent the kind and friendly Maritimers.

Great ride through to Pictou, just shy of Prince Edward Island. Grant, listening to the weather on the radio, pulled into the first motel, hoping for WiFi, but no rooms left. Lucky because we are not in a charming little cabin out behind the motel. It's fifty years old, cosy & freshly painted. As I write, I can hear the rain is back in full force. The motel and cabins are now full and two sorry looking riders were just turned away and the sky was dropping an ocean of water. Still we're warm and dry and will wait out the deluge then slip over for some supper.