Life's a Beach

Day 37

The weather has lifted, and the cobalt blue skies and shimmering seas are back. It's a good thing, because we have a big day planned. Yesterday, we decided to stay an extra day so we could enjoy this lovely weather (we're smart). We're heading up to Meat Cove today, the settlement at the northern most tip of Cape Breton Island, and thus Nova Scotia.

First, we head down the dirt road that our campground is on in search of a beach we heard tell of. The road narrows, then goes down to just the ruts for wheels, then there is tiny parking area with about 4 cars. From all of my experiences of awesome beaches, there is no way that this scenario points to one. There is no pavement, no public restroom, nowhere to buy a last minute bikini, or sunglasses, or book a kite surfing trip. There aren't throngs of people with armloads of beach-stuff, there are no screaming kids. I would bet a lung that there is no beach here, and if there is one, it sucks.

I am so wrong. The Girl decides not to pull off with the other cars, and instead ride all the way down through the woods dirt bike style. The woods open up, and before us is the most spectacular beach I've ever seen. It is in a cove, not a sandbar like the one on PEI. Tall, green mountains dip down on either side of the beach, as if in an embrace. The sand is white and beautiful. There are 10 people at most out here. The water is turquoise and perfectly clear. The beach is wide and long. We did what any Pirate and Mermaid would do, we parked the bike, dug our swim gear from the saddlebags, and hit the beach for a couple of hours.

We pulled ourselves away, just barely, only because we were getting sunburned. I could have stayed there all day, basking in that northern sun, swimming in that clear, cold water. I will be back one day, I promise myself.

Next, we head north to Meat Cove. It is a glorious drive, a must if you're doing the Cabot Trail. Do it as a day trip though, you'll want to take your time. About half way up to Meat Cove, the road becomes dirt, and very steep and curvy. There are wide views of the sea from high cliffs, it feels like we can see forever. We ride through marinas with these beautiful boats in turquoise and red, a common color combination up here that, in the words of Sam Cooke, sends me. At the end of the road is a campground and a Chowder House, which does not happen to serve chowder. With a million dollar view, we munch on some kraut covered sausage dogs and shoot the shit with an old hippie from Toronto.

Since we haven't had quite enough adventure for one day, on our way back we head out to Dingwall, to see a lighthouse. The lighthouse turns out to be one that was moved (piece by piece) from St. Paul's Island, a hunk of rock a few miles off the coast where 2,000 bodies are buried, and several hundreds of ships met their end. A Dingwall local, probably 17 years old, gave us a tour of the light house and the small museum beside it. She told tales of this island that could fill a book; a cable car suspended over a 190 foot drop that broke and killed the lighthouse keeper, a new father, on his way to meet his new baby; a crew that wrecked and survived 10 weeks over a winter before starving to death; babies born with no doctors, pre-mies kept warm bundled in a shoe box and tucked into the oven.

After all of this, we needed dinner. We stopped in at a little place that does pizza and baked stuff. A nice older lady runs it and does all the cooking. She knows her food is good, particularly the coconut cream pie, which we scarfed. During our feast, a couple came in looking for ice cream. Their accent gave them away as Quebecoise, and pretty soon they were inviting us to come out to their boat docked just over in the harbor.

They went on ahead, and once we were done with dinner, we rode down to the harbor and yoo-hooed at the boat. Louis came and fetched us in the motorized raft, and ferried us to La Mariner V, his home for the next 5 years. His wife, Carmen, greeted us with fingers covered in freshly picked crab meat. Over the next hour, we toured the boat and exchanged some details about one another despite our language barriers. We had a lovely modern technology moment, where we pulled up our hometowns on Google Earth and showed one another where our journeys began. After awhile, Louis loaded us back into the raft and ferried us across the still waters to the Girl just as the sun was setting behind the ridge.

We're back to camp just before dark. We're worn slap out after such a wonderful day. There is some firewood left, so we have a nice little campfire, enjoying the smoke for its mosquito repellent, and each others' laps for pillows. We are so far along in this adventure that we are able to reminisce about this very trip. It's a lovely last night at this sweet campground.