Day 9: Sunday June 24
Copyright(c) 2007, Jim Beachy
Well, posting yesterday’s report has been quite an adventure. First of all, it has the wrong title, “Day 7”. It’s actually “Day 8.” But who’s counting? Secondly, I discovered something about the 800-number dial-up service offered by my high-speed Internet provider: It does not support out-of-USA 800 calls. I’ve been using it in the USA when high-speed service is not available at a hotel or motel, which was the case last night at the Shipwright Inn. So this morning after breakfast I got Stephanie to help hook up my laptop to the phone line she uses for her laptop, and I could not complete the call. So yesterday’s report didn’t get posted until today from Port Hawkesbury on Cape Breton Island, where high-speed Internet is available.
After today, I have no idea if, in the next four days of travel, I’ll be able to post any reports. Some of you are probably hoping I can’t find Internet service.
The price for the night’s lodging at the Shipwright Inn includes a full breakfast from the menu, so we enjoy a leisurely breakfast of scrambled eggs and homemade wheat toast along with some fruit and yogurt. I still find it strange that I am so fixated on breakfast, because for all my adult life until about 18 months ago, I hardly ever ate breakfast. But then Kitty and I embarked on an attempt to live a healthier lifestyle, and since then I’ve lost 40 pounds and she’s lost 50. Hence our attempt to maintain almost-daily walks or some kind of exercise regimen. I miss the weight-lifting that I normally do three times a week but most of the places where we’ve stayed have no exercise rooms. Eating a complete breakfast has been an important part of that lifestyle change.
At breakfast, Kitty notices a sign in the dining room that haunts me throughout the day: “Together is the best place to be.” I think of our trip, and how we are together literally 24 hours a day for nearly three weeks. One of Kitty’s co-workers commented that she couldn’t stand being with her husband that long. Well, I don’t know how Kitty can stand it, but for me, it’s the highlight of my year. I feel like a MasterCard commercial: Motorcycle, $20,000. Trailer, $3,500. Rain gear for two, $300. A night in Nova Scotia, $129. Being together, sharing these sights and these moments, making memories that will sustain us while our minds are intact — Priceless! Nothing could be better than these days and these times together!
As we leave the Shipwright Inn, the owner, Doris, bids us farewell and I give Stephanie a hug. This has been a unique and special experience for us, one that we will treasure. “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Kitty said last night as we were shown to our unique under-the-eaves room.
When the temperature is reported as 12 degrees Celsius, I really don’t understand that. But when I walk outside I realize that 12 C is pretty chilly! Rain has moved through during the night but this morning we have a mix of sun and clouds with small patches of blue sky appearing amidst the layer of gray.
The first order of business is to refuel. The next fuel along our scheduled itinerary is about an hour, they tell us, so I decide to backtrack 8 km and fuel up at an Irving station along the road we traveled yesterday. Having accomplished this, we set off for our half-day ride along the Bay of Fundy, or more specifically, the Minas Basin, and then on to the Canso Causeway area, the gateway to Cape Breton Island.
The Minas Basin at Burncoat Head features the highest tides ever recorded in the world, at 53.6 feet. We have only a half-day to explore the area, but we remember from previous trips that a harbor at high tide looks completely normal, and six hours or so later, at low tide, ocean-going vessels are sitting on the ocean floor, 40 or 50 feet lower than high tide. “Next trip,” I tell Kitty in the headset, “We’ll make a point to re-explore the Evangeline Trail and the Bay of Fundy.”
The road surface along Rt. 215 at times leaves quite a bit to be desired, but I put myself in slow-down mode and navigate gently through the turns until we reach Burntcoat Park, the actual site of the world’s highest tides. We turn off onto the gravel road and gingerly navigate our way to the graveled parking lot. I’d come close to promising Kitty I wouldn’t traverse any gravel roads, but this one is Ok and following the night’s rains isn’t kicking up any dust.
After visiting the minimalist visitor center, we embark on a little journey to do something we’ve never done before: Leave our footprints on the ocean floor. The tide today is only about 35 feet and now it’s halfway to slack tide, having crested about three hours earlier this morning. Still, there are large expanses of exposed ocean floor to navigate, and so we put our boot prints together in the coppery-red sand, take a picture, and walk away. “A permanent record of our being here,” I say. Permanent, that is, for the next three hours. Interesting, isn’t it, that what we see in life as permanent is frequently so fleeting? The tyranny of the urgent so often keeps us from doing the important things and tricks us into leaving marks we think are permanent, only to be swept away by the tide of the Important. Before we can blink, the three-year old kid we didn’t spend enough time with is 30 years old and has a kid of his own. What have we done with the Important things during that time? These thoughts occupy my mind as we catch the Trans-Canada Highway, Rt. 104, near Truro and head toward the Canso Causeway area, about 170 km or 108 miles east. It occurs to me that, except for 10 minutes when we were checking information on Acadia National Park in Maine, we haven’t used our radio or played tapes or CDs for this entire trip. About 20 minutes into the trip after leaving Dad’s gazebo party a week ago, I had asked Kitty if she wanted some music. “No,” she responded. “I’m not ready for that yet.” I figure she’ll let me know when she’s ready. She hasn’t said she’s ready, for over a week. It’s odd how this “together” thing works. We have headsets and we can talk for hours if we choose, and sometimes we do, but other times we travel long distances without saying a word, just sharing the time and the sights together. “Together is the best place to be” has never been truer than for Kitty and me.
Running east into Port Hastings, we hit the first rain of the day, the trailing edge of a huge dark storm that we’ve been chasing for several hours. We don’t need rain gear and I tuck my digital camera, which I’ve been carrying around my neck for the day, inside my leather jacket to keep it dry. We stop at the Canso Causeway visitor center, pick up a few brochures, check out potential opportunities to catch a ceilidh (hey — use your Google powers!), and have the tourist service make reservations for a hotel in Port Hawkesbury. High-speed Internet is a requirement, as I’ve now learned that I can’t use my “emergency” dial-up service from outside the USA. A downpour starts in earnest just as we pull into the hotel parking lot, so we hastily cover the bike’s cloth seat with the form-fitted seat cover, leaving the bike and trailer sitting in the pounding rain, and wait to unload until the squall passes. Later, Kitty says she’s going to look for the exercise room and when I haven’t seen her for 20 minutes I investigate, to find her working away on a treadmill! During an interlude in the rain, we manage to get in a 40-minute power walk along the Hawkesbury waterfront. Before the next downpour I clean and cover the bike and trailer while Kitty showers, then I follow suite and head to the hotel’s restaurant for dinner.
“Together is the best place to be.” Words to treasure and to help build a life. Words to guide this trip for Kitty and me. Together. Together in Nova Scotia, at the gateway to Cape Breton Island. What could be better?
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