In trying to juggle the weather, schedule and ferry, I decided it might be best to get over to Newfoundland sooner than later and decided to head for Sydney and vicinity in case I could catch the next ferry outbound.
As I loaded the bike in the parking lot, an old couple came by and began talking to me. The woman came over to the bike and began inspecting my cases, saying how much she loved them. She then asked if she could pray a blessing on the bike to which I replied "absolutely!" She said a short prayer and then said to me "Don't take that lightly." I told her I didn't and thanked her. They were local from Dieppe and had been without power for three days, finally deciding to get a hotel room.
I rolled onto the highway and began the mental process of settling in for the long haul. It wasn't too long after, when I got a sudden flash and flutter of pieces of paper blowing past my face shield and I glanced down to see my jacket pocket unzipped and my wallet in the process of falling out. I slapped my hand on it and made the roadside to stop, to discover all my Canadian cash had been sucked out by a wind gust and I'd almost lost my wallet. The cash was separate from the wallet, and I was pissed to know I'd littered the highway in the high winds with all my cash. I was happy that I'd not lost my wallet thankfully. In the midst of my gearing up process, I'd been distracted by the couple and hadn't zipped up the pocket. Grrrrr.
So if you need some cash and have a huge amount of time to waste, peruse the roadside along Trans Canada Highway 2 between Moncton and Sackville.
After bitching and moaning a while, I settled into the monotony of highway travel and entertained myself by trying to pronounce the French names of places on the highway signs, using a cheesy, cartoon-like version of a French accent, that is until I crossed into Nova Scotia where I had to switch to a cheesy, cartoon-like version of a Scottish accent. Trust me, it's harder than you think.
Though my goal had been Sydney, when I saw the signs for the proximity of Halifax, combined with the warm and spectacular sunny day, I caved and decided to head for the coast of Nova Scotia south of Halifax. It's one of the blessings and curses of traveling a bit free, as you CAN do whatever you like, but also can get yourself stuck. Due to past experiences, I've been afraid to bypass Nova Scotia and the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton, thinking I'll catch them on the return because life happens and often I've regretted bypassing a place and then not being able to return.
With that in mind I set my sights on Oak Island south of Halifax. Yes, the Oak Island of the TV show "Curse of Oak Island". I foolishly got sucked into watching it a few years ago and now have invested so much time in watching them discover so little, that I can't afford to stop watching "just in case". Actually it is an intriguing show, despite feeling like I'm watching grass grow. I have a couple of Facebook friends who've begged me to go by and see it for them, so that's another excuse.
I made the little one lane blacktop road that leads to the island - and frankly I'm now amazed at how they got some of the monster equipment down that road to the island. In short order I was pulling up to the little roadway across the inlet and wondering if it was open, since there was a guy in a safety vest and some safety cones on the road. There had been some places along the route still without power and I had no idea if the site had hurricane damage or electricity, but I rolled on across.
When I rolled up, a production assistant waved me away from the buildings, then later apologized for doing so, but said they were filming in the building nearby and he was afraid the motorcycle sound might get picked up. We talked a bit and I asked him how big the production crew was, his response being about 50 on the film end and an additional 20 or so doing research. I wandered into the museum/gift shop and checked out the items on display, then bought a sticker for the cases. The production assistant suggested waiting a bit in case the filming stopped and I might get to say hi to the guys, but it was getting later and I decided to move on. I'm a fan of the show, but not that much of one. It was fun setting foot on some place I never expected to.
I headed further south, passing through the nearby picturesque town of Mahone Bay where they film some, then rolled further south to Lunenburg, a really cool old town with colorful buildings on the water. I stopped and had a great meal of grilled haddock overlooking the waterfront.
I grabbed a motel just a little out of the downtown section to avoid the premium prices, and was accosted in the parking lot by a man from Sweden. He was admiring the GSA and told me the police in Sweden rode GS's. His name was Rolf and he introduced me to another friend "KG". They laughed when I told them I'd raced a Husqvarna 250 between the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods, when men were men and motos ran on melted dinosaurs rather than ethanol. We chatted a while before I drug the gear inside and flopped on the bed.
I was anxious to get back out to the town and looked forward to getting some good photos, however heavy clouds rolled in and killed the light. Disappointed, I headed back to the room and drowned my sorrows in conversation with other guests sitting on the chairs outside the rooms, to the occasional whiff of cigarette smoke from down the way.
The next morning I decided to head for the Cabot Trail, the weather forecast indicating rain. I raced northward and detoured briefly through Halifax, circling the high citadel and downtown area before continuing on. It was in the low 50's and brisk, heavily overcast, but I managed to avoid the worst rains most of the way, squirting between showers and only suffering a few moments of sprinkles on the wet highways. That is… until about an hour out of Baddeck where the rains came in earnest.
I made Baddeck about dusk, piling off the bike for a cup of coffee at a downtown bakery to warm up and find a hotel, creating a puddle around the table with all my wet gear. Outside the downtown area, I found a room at a large motel. Several motorcycles were there, no doubt to ride the Cabot Trail the next day, as was my plan.
Bras d’Or Lake in Baddeck, an inland sea of mixed salt and fresh water
I confirmed my booking on the ferry to Argentia, Newfoundland from North Sydney for the 15th, a Sunday, which gave me a couple of days for Cape Breton. Even though the loop can technically be ridden in a long day, I wanted to be able to enjoy the area and not feel pushed.