Anchors Away

Our Kitchen

Day 33&34

I'm combining these two days because Day 33 was a blur of readying our rig, what with it having been strewn about for the last 2 weeks. We washed all of our clothes and dried them in the sun, washed all of our dishes in hot soapy water, sorted all of our trash, and on and on.

Pirate's dressing table

A note about the trash sorting here on PEI. It is a well thought out and complex system that, at first, is a pain in the ass, but makes a lot of sense. First, there is island-wide composting. If they catch you throwing eggshells or coffee grounds in the regular trash, you're in trouble. In fact, all trash, recycling and compost has to be in clear bags, so they can see if you're cheating. So, first you separate the compost, or “humide” as we prefer. Then you do the recycling, which are also separated: plastics, refillable glass bottles, other glass, metal cans, cardboard. Then, the actual “trash”, the stuff no one can do anything with. There are giant bins everywhere with all of these sections. Even in a fast food joint there is “humide”, recycling, and trash.

Our last dinner on PEI is fire roasted corn on the cob, fresh sliced tomatoes with lots of salt and pepper, and sirloin cooked right in the coals. We burn all of our wood, drink all of our booze, and eat all of our food from the community fridge. We also boil eggs for the journey, and get the “kitchen”, which gets packed into deep storage, separated from the “food bag” which travels in my saddle bag.

We're both worn out and overwhelmed with a reluctance to leave this fair isle. Something tells me we'll be back.

The morning of Day 34 is brilliant, warm and sunny, a fitting PEI send off. We say farewell to our new friends Maggie and Roy, exchanging email addresses and promising to rendezvous in Jamaica in January. At the office we are warmly sent off by Cindy, Trent and some of the folks around the fire the other night. We also exchange contact info with hopes to see each other again soon. Around 11:30, we hit the road.

Banker line one, Lawyer line two

Our ride takes us back through Chalottetown and then a little farther south east. Away from the water, the countryside looks very much like Ohio with rolling fields and farms. We are in Wood Islands in no time. The ferries here run every 1.5 hours, so we do not have a reservation. We pull up to buy our ticket ($40 gets the Pirate, the Mermaid and R. Girl to Nova Scotia), and learn that the next ferry leaves in 15 minutes. Good timing. We are instructed to head to the front of the line, as motorcycles are the first on and the first off the ferry.

To prepare for the 75 minute ride, the ferry provides straps to secure all the motorcycles. Once the Girl is all strapped in and secure, we head up top to eat our brought lunch and see the sights. There is a little cafeteria where you can get hot dogs and fries and pops, tourist kiosks for both PEI and Nova Scotia with maps and guides, chairs to sit in whilst the Olympics are watched, a dairy bar with soft serve ice cream, and a lovely sundeck where, on a warm day like this, you can bask with the wind blowing through your hair and listen to the fiddle player.

Strapping down the Girl

The ferry ride is over too soon. We exit to find ourselves transported back to reality: wide, fast highways with speeding semi's, billboards and Walmarts. We grin and bear it, hoping that once we get to Cape Breton Island, the charm of the Canadian Maritimes will be once again upon us. We ride for an hour or so before we cross the bridge onto Cape Breton Island. The scenery has been reminiscent of home, minus the ocean, of course. We ride along side the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, our companion, in one form or another, since the 1000 islands. The mountains are green and rolling, the ocean is blue-white and sparkling.

We have decided to traverse this hunk of land via the Cabot Trail, a widely celebrated road that is apparently the most beautiful road there has ever been. We're doing it clockwise, which brings us up the western shoreline. Before we catch the Cabot, we ride along the Ceildah (KAY-lee) trail, which is all about Celtic music and local famous musicians. It's lovely, but not a thrill. And, there are not many gas stations. If you're coming up 19 N, you're only hope is in Judique.

We reach a campsite well after 6 pm. We're both worn out and a little cranky from the long day. The campground, Ocean Village, is on the ocean, and has a beautiful, wide view of it. The setting is lovely, the actual campground isn't. It's expensive at $36 per night. Also, there is trash everywhere including in our fire pit. Bags of trash lay around while seagulls rip at them. The campground is full and loud with, ironically, mostly bikers.

The beach makes up for it all. You walk down a steep path to a wide beach with soft sand and water so still and clear you would think you were in a lake. There are families gathered, couples walking hand in hand, kids rough housing-the usual. The beach has no shells, but is full of beach glass- green, amber and clear- like our beach on Lake Erie used to be. Since we are pointed directly west, we are treated to a lovely sunset right in front of us, the moonrise right behind.

On our way back to the site, our Newfie neighbors invite us to join them for beers around their picnic table. Two brothers and one of their wives are traveling through the Cabot Trail and then over to PEI on their motorcycles. They tell us that you need at least three months to see Newfoundland properly, and that the ferry is indeed long and expensive. They give us some great tips and tell some great stories.