Nosey Scotia

Day 35

We awoke to much different weather this morning. Last night, by the light of the full moon, a damp weather pattern moved in. Gone are the shimmering waters and bright blue skies. Clouds now obscure the highest parts of the cliffs and blur the horizon. It feels cozy, and authentic.

Breakfast is meager as we are anxious to get out of this campground. We've decided to back track about 7 miles to visit the Glenora Distillery. It's a big fancy place all done up in black and white with hints of red. Whiskey barrels filled with colorful annuals line the drive in, and the pond out front. Tourists are meandering here and there, but at this early morning hour, not many people have the stomach for the whiskey. We, obviously, do.

In the pub you can have a flight of whiskey for $35. We decide to share one. First, we sample the juice right out of the still, before it's aged. Then there is the faintly hued 10 year, which is the one they sell in the Liquor Store. Then there is a 15 year, a 16 year that is finished up in ice wine barrels, and finally a deep amber, super fragrant 17 year. As we sip and nose these beauties, we share a lovely bowl of chowder with big hunks of tender seafood: scallop, haddock, clam. After this we go for the whiskey braised ribs with mashed potatoes. It's good, but it might have been better with the PEI butter. We complete the feast with one of the very best desserts I've had in my life: moist spiced date cake with whiskey toffee sauce and whipped cream. I asked our server if she could sell me 750 ml of that instead of the whiskey. Seriously, if you're on 19 N, and you're driving past this distillery, stop in for the Toffee Pudding, even you're full, even if you just ate Thanksgiving dinner, even if you don't eat gluten, or sugar or dairy.

We're having a hard time navigating the particular brand of friendliness in Nova Scotia. As we were enjoying our whiskeys, an older gentleman came up, stood just a wee bit too close, and asked us the following questions in rapid fire: are we the ones from N.C.? Was it a long trip? Is that all of our stuff there on the bike? Do we know that the bike is leaking some gas? Do we always just leave the key in the ignition? Do we trust Canadians that much? After all these questions, I had only one for him: Did you rub your balls on it? Jeez. Just because you have questions doesn't give you the right to ask them. It was at this point that our delicious plate of ribs was set before us, and instead of bidding us a nice meal and walking away, he asked: if they were good (we had obviously not tried them), if we always shared a plate of food, and if we thought that one plate would be enough for us both.

This manner of “visiting” has been on par while in Nova Scotia. As we blogged last night, a young man practically sat in our laps and asked all about us. As we were drifting off to sleep, some campers stood not 10 feet away, shining their flashlight all over our campsite and tent, commenting on the smell of gas and “where is N.C.?”. They're lucky a nekkid Pirate didn't come out and kick their asses all the way to N.C. so they could see for themselves.

But really, I'd rather have friendliness than snobbery. It's just a funny cultural difference, made extra enjoyable through the lens of hormones that this little mermaid is currently enduring.

But I've digressed, I haven't presented The Cabot Trail. Just north of the Acadien settlement of Cheticamp begins the Cape Breton Provincial park. This is apparently the most scenic, mountainous and dramatic bit of this trail. Even as seen on a cloudy, gray day, it's very beautiful. Tall rounded cliffs make their way down to the water, rock outcroppings jut into the air, making for great views. The roads are sort of steep and curvy. It is very much like Highway 1 in California, with tamer curves. It's also like the Blue Ridge Parkway, with an ocean added. Having had the privilege of riding a lot on both the Parkway and The 1, the Cabot Trail didn't quite knock our socks off.

Tonight we are in the northern most segment of Cape Breton island, on the east coast. We're at the Hideaway Campground and Oyster Market, a lush green forest over looking the Aspy Bay. It's stunning. There are birches and conifers, lush ferns, and wildflowers whom I do not yet know. The facilities are very clean, and there are even private potties ( a luxury after weeks of stalls). In the camp office, while you're checking in, or getting online, you may slurp raw oysters which have come from the bay out front. You may also snack on a freshly cooked and cooled lobster for $9.50 a piece.

We'll be here for two nights. Tomorrow we'll day trip up to Meat Camp up in the northern most tip of the island, do some grocery shopping, and some general soaking-it-in. Plus, we should fix this gas leak before we worry these Nosey Scotians to death.