I took my time packing the motorcycle, since the ride south along the western coast of Cape Breton wasn't very long. I've also been enjoying making myself slow down and smell the roses. The previous night it had gotten pretty cold and it was still crispy in the morning even though the sun was out.
The winding road climbed up into the mountains and it was cold enough at higher elevation that my eyes were watering despite the face shield. Though the mountains weren't dramatically high, they were fairly steep and very pretty, especially as you drop through a narrow valley back down to the ocean.
I don't remember if I mentioned it before, but I’d chosen to ride the loop counterclockwise which placed me on the outer edge of the road along the water for the loop. Not that it would make that much difference, but I did enjoy being able to look off the edge the cliffs pretty easily.
I passed through the little town of Cheticamp, then Margaree Harbor and stopped at Inverness for a short break. A member of advrider.com had messaged me and suggested stopping at the Glenora Distillery and then grabbing a meal in Mabou at The Red Shoe cafe. I was zipping along and blew past the entrance to the distillery, making a sharp u-turn and pulling back into their beautiful driveway.
I had a couple of parking lot conversations before going inside and signing up for the tour. The distillery also has a fine restaurant and destination inn. The grounds were especially beautiful in the sunlight, with a babbling brook running through the center. I was to find out that this brook was the reason for the distillery’s location.
The tour was interesting, both for the history of the facility as well as the background of Scotch whiskey production, some of the lawsuits from Scottish Scotch makers and the relatively short period of time they're able to produce their whiskey each year. It was a stop worth making and I learned a little about the production of whiskey.
A couple in their 30’s approached me and asked about the motorcycle, having seen the stickers from South America. They’d spent a month exploring Newfoundland in their van and shared how much they loved it. The beautiful location and warm sunshine made me want to laze around, but the clock is always ticking…
From the distillery it was just a few minutes until I rolled into the coastal town of Mabou and spotted the Red Shoe cafe, several motorcycles parked in front. The group of riders sitting at the table inside didn't acknowledge my wave, but after their meal came over to chat. They were heading north and doing the loop clockwise from where I’d just come. I asked the waitress what she recommended, and got a big bowl of seafood chowder. It was delicious. The café/bar is definitely a great place to stop when you're there.
The Red Shoe, a great little cafe in Mabou, NS
I continued farther south down the coast to Port Hood, where I thought I might spend the night, but I wasn't in the mood to stop and continued on through Port Hawkesbury to the Isle Madame, which had looked like it might be interesting on the map. The island was quiet and slow-paced, and though not necessarily beautiful or dramatic, it was a little off the beaten path. I spotted a nice-looking hotel/motel in the little town of Arichat and pulled in. The owner, Shauna, was very nice and told me they had a motorcyclist's special rate. She and her husband rode Harleys, and we had a long talk about travels and motorcycling. She printed out a map of the island and highlighted some little local roads that she said were pretty nice considering the size of the place. They had purchased and renovated the hotel recently, and the room was the nicest I've stayed in on this trip, rivaling some expensive hotels. Shauna said she had grown tired of living in big cities and now was really enjoying living on "island time". If you happen to find yourself in the vicinity, the name of the hotel is "The Clairstone Inn."
The next morning, knowing I was only an hour and a half or so from North Sydney where I was to catch the ferry the next day, I took my time loading the bike and rolled out of the parking lot about 10. It was another crisp morning with sunshine, Shauna lamenting the fact that she wouldn't be able to ride on such a beautiful day. Though most of her time was taken up with the hotel, she said that was how she preferred it and said she wanted to be “hands on” in every aspect of it. She wished me well on my travels and I headed off to ride the local roads she had mapped out for me.
The first small road turned out to be twisty, following along the water's edge. It was a very nice ride. At one point I passed a huge bald eagle perched on a stump right at the edge of the road, his head turning to follow my approach and slightly lifting his wings in case he needed to fly. I had no idea there were bald eagles in this area and it was a nice surprise.
The blacktop came to an end and turned into a little two track gravel road which I followed, spotting a small light house in the distance. A few hundred yards before reaching the lighthouse, the roadway had washed out, where I left the bike and continued on foot. Googling it later, the small lighthouse sits on "Cap Auget".
Cape Auget Lighthouse
Reversing out, I followed the other small roads Shauna had suggested and looped around the island before heading north.
At the little community of St. Peters, the town was festooned with pirate flags and in the small downtown section people were dressed in pirate costumes and readying for a parade. It was a good excuse to stop and grab a coffee and find out what was happening. One of the locals told me that years before, the town had celebrated a small event, and it had now grown into a festival, complete with parades, music and fireworks.
As I sipped coffee and searched Google maps for places to stop on my leisurely day north, I punched in a hotel search on the Booking app for North Sydney. The app would not take the current day’s date, saying that North Sydney lay in a different date zone entirely. I panicked at the possibility that in fact that might be true, in which case my ferry would be leaving in just a few hours rather than tomorrow. I doubted this was the case, but since I was on the bike and only an hour away, I decided to go ahead and ride directly to North Sydney and skip my leisurely exploration plans.
I rolled into North Sydney, looking for an ATM to get some more Canadian cash to replace what I’d lost. So far the trip had been done entirely on plastic, but having cash covers you just in case and I had no idea what the ferry situation would require. As to the ferry and getting to Newfoundland, there are two choices. The first is an 8 hour trip from North Sydney to Port Aux Basques, Newfoundland, the closest point on the island, or a longer trip that heads for the eastern coast of Newfoundland, landing at the old naval port of Argentia and depositing you about an hour from the capitol of St. John’s.
Initially my plan had been to land at Port Aux Basques, being the cheaper option, and then going all the way north along the western coast, then crossing the island to the east coast to see St. John’s. This would then require reversing back across the island and add a few days of travel. The more I’d thought about it and the realities of how long the trip distances were taking, along with my fears that winter would be arriving soon on the island, it made more sense to take the 17 hour ferry to the eastern side of the island. It would be much more expensive, however it would save me a few days and hotels. I’d also decided to get a cabin for the overnight trip so that I could be rested when the ferry landed at 9:30 in the morning. In my past travels, I’d always been budget conscious and either slept on the floor or in chairs for overnight ferry travels, and this time I decided to do it the proper way to avoid a dead-tired day on arrival.
North Sydney was small, and I found a Scotia Bank downtown for their ATM, then ran across the street to a small sporting goods store in the downtown section. I went in to see if I could find a pair of waterproof gloves since I’d forgotten my winter gloves back in Dallas. All they had were wet suit gloves, all far too small for my hands. I have had zero luck finding waterproof gloves in my multiple searches of various stores in Canada of all places.
I got back on the bike and rode to the ferry terminal entrance area, parking the bike before entering the secure zone and a female attendant walked out to meet me. I asked her if North Sydney was indeed in a different time and date zone, and she hesitated, checking her phone for the date. She verified that the ferry for Argentia would leave the next day and told me a little about the process and to be there two hours before departure time. I told her about the reason I’d come early, and having crossed multiple time zones I hadn’t been sure about the date.
I circled back to the little downtown section and stopped for a slice of pizza. Through the window, I watched a man come down the street and stop to inspect the bike before continuing on with his walking cane. Later, as I was preparing to put my helmet on in leaving, the same man returned and came over to the motorcycle. He had difficulty in speaking, having to put his finger at the base of his throat in order to make a sound. I could see the big scars on his neck from surgery as he spoke to me in his gravelly voice. When he heard that I was headed for Newfoundland, he warned me extensively to be careful about the moose and whatever I did not to ride at night. He was the second man in the same number of days to warn me about the moose there and to make sure I did not ride after dark.
For some reason I suddenly got very tired and sleepy, and mentioned to the man that I needed to find a hotel for the night. He pointed with his cane to a hotel on top of the hill and wandered away. A few minutes later, I passed him on the motorcycle and tapped my horn, seeing his wave in my rear view mirror. From the hotel, I had a good view of the harbor where a large Marine Atlantic ferry sat with its nose open. Back in the room, I fell asleep for a short period of time and upon my return to the restaurant window, there was now a different ferry docked and disgorging semi trucks and trailers. From the looks of it, it did not appear to be the “Atlantic Vision” which was my ferry for the next day.
