Nova Scotia – Cabot Trail

No idea is an absurd idea
Just over a year ago, I stumbled upon a simple double-page spread about a road trip around the Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia.

I started informing friends and family that I would be embarking on an adventure around Cape Breton Island. After nodding, smiles and ‘wow, I’m so jealous’, I realised that not many people had even heard of it, and to be honest, neither had I until that article. It started to feel a bit like a dream that wasn’t possible, so naturally, I was determined to make it happen. But first I had a number of issues to deal with:

1. I had never driven on the opposite side of the road
2. I had never hired a car
3. It would be uber expensive to do this as a solo budget traveller

I got in touch with my friend, Jeff, in Toronto. Within moments of mentioning my intentions, we’d mapped out a sixteen day tour in his little white MANUAL (British victory fist pump) Mazda 2, complete with camping equipment and an Enrique Iglesias playlist. We would drive across New England, bask in the nature of the Cabot Trail, and stop by Québec City and Montreal on the way back to Toronto. A five thousand kilometre jaunt around two nations.

We began on the East side of the island. At the entrance of the trail, you cross the border into a Cape Breton Highlands National Park. It costs $7.80 per adult per day. We received a map of the park and a ticket to display on the car’s dashboard.

Due to our time constraints and other on-the-road plans, we estimated that two days to wind our way around the coastal road would be ample, but then we opened the map. In the top left corner there are detailed descriptions about all the trails and treks we would find around the island. The explorer in me wanted to do all of them. Each one sounded unique and invited you to a different view of the park; deep forested valleys, lakes that promised moose sightings, cliffs, beaches, ocean, rivers, waterfalls. We had some choices to make.

Starting small, we parked the car and followed the Jigging Cove trail through some dense forest that surrounded a lake; gaps in the foliage teased us with views of the reflecting water. It was a hot day above the trees, and the rocky path looked reasonably undisturbed. Consciously making the effort, we trod carefully so as not to disturb basking snakes or other wildlife. Occasionally, you’d hear the leafy rustle of a fleeing critter, but other than that, the hike was quiet.

Jigging Cove

Before continuing the loop of the lake, we followed a path that opened out onto a coastal pebble beach. The sun was high and the stones lit up like pearls, clean and polished. There was no salty wind, no screeching seagulls, no muddy water, just the blue waves in front and the edge of the forest behind. We were the only people around. I stretched out on a smooth rock and closed my eyes. This was one of those, ‘I’m really doing it’, moments. I was exploring a wilderness that once seemed like an untouchable glossy picture in a magazine.

My travel buddy, Morgan Bear, was with us too

It probably won’t surprise you that my goal was to spot a moose. This meant heading to the Benjie’s Lake trail on the West side of the park, for the description was simply, Moose, boreal forest, birds. They generally appear around dawn and dusk in boggy areas, so we arrived at the trail at five o’clock in the evening. As we carefully inched our way along the path, Jeff spotted tracks. Huge fresh imprints of elongated lily pads in the soft earth. This was it. Our best chance.

My silent excitement was disturbed when we reached the outskirts of the lake and heard a tapping noise in the canopy above. Clinging to the side of a tree and using the sharp of it’s beak, was a woodpecker, chipping away at the trunk, spitting shards of bark all over us. Mesmerised by the rhythm, I watched as it jerked it’s head back and forth, determined to extract the best grub from the depths of the wood.

Woody Woodpecker

At the lake, we sat down and commenced moose-watch. We waited, occasionally whispering to each other and pointing, sharing the odd moment. The tranquility and warmth of the atmosphere drugged my eyelids. As the sun dipped below the forest and the sky dimmed, I let myself drift into what I thought was a light doze; ‘just resting my eyes’. An hour or so later, the temperature dropped and I woke up shivering. We quickly scanned Benjie’s lake. We gave up.

Mooseless, but still smiling at Benjie’s Lake

As far as the Cabot Trail is concerned, the Skyline trail is probably the one that’s on most bucket lists, and I can assure you that it does not disappoint. When the map boasts ‘dramatic headland overlooking the rugged Gulf coast’, you definitely need to add this to your itinerary.

As per usual, we decided to be different and take the path anti-clockwise, which was also the longer route. It seemed that the trail was split up into sections. At some points we were winding our way through woodland, although a lot sparser than I was expecting. Other areas were vast grasslands with bare trees. I pictured a herd charging through the habitat, or a forest fire munching its way through the foliage. But the bark was not scorched and the and the trees remained rooted. Our confusion was answered when we walked through a gated area of land. An information board explained that the wall had been built to keep the destructive moose out. Further along the trail, outside the wall, we passed a bunch of abandoned carrots on a boulder. I doubt they were there for long.

If you take the longer route, the journey to the summit is peaceful, but the paths eventually rejoin and it is quiet no more. I picked up the pace and moved towards the wooden platforms built into the side of the mountain. We had not chosen to tackle this on a clear day, and for this I was grateful. I’m sure the sight would have been just as spectacular if the sun was shining, but we were greeted by low cloud and mild winds.

Skyline summit

I walked off the safety of the platform and scrambled to the edge of a rock to watch the wispy mist as it was sucked into the valley. I stood, rigid, camera poised, waiting for that perfect image of cloud brushing against the land as it seeped back towards the sea. I turned around to find that the platforms, and stairs connecting them, had disappeared behind the fluffy veil. When the valley eventually cleared, I could see cars snaking around the mountain’s edge, the same road we had travelled a couple of hours ago. Birds emerged from their nests, looping and diving, spreading their wings and riding the breeze. The treetops reminded me of a vast green latch-hook rug that you’d want to squish your toes into on a wintery day.

Skyline

Jeff and I snapped our memories and took one last look at the natural paradise. As we walked back, we discussed what we’d seen, what we planned to research and what we loved about the Cabot Trail; all failed moose sightings were temporarily forgotten. Once we were back on the road, our spirits were high, we sang badly at the top of our voices and we returned to our highly unsuccessful moose-watch.

I love the ease and freedom of travelling on my own, but there are just some experiences that are better shared with company.

This post was written to the sound of Take That’s album III.