Canada 2025, Part VI: Over the Hills and Far Away

 Because it was late in the year and the boats would be closing down soon for the season, Daisy had brought up the subject of wanting to go on another whale-watching tour from Pleasant Bay -- the same place we did it last year. Different times of the year have different whales, as they all have different migratory schedules. I told her that, of course, I would love to do that with her again -- especially as last year we saw like, half a whale. The boat trip itself was really fun, though, and way worth our time and money. So, on Sunday, she'd booked the trip for Tuesday at noon (it can all be done online, and she did it from her phone). We asked if her aunt and uncle wanted to join us, but they declined.

However, it is a very long drive up to Pleasant Bay from our hotel and family homestead -- it's a long drive straight up the western side of Cape Breton Island up to Cheticamp, which is the entry point of the Cape Breton Highlands National Park™ and the Cabot Trail. To get to Pleasant Bay, you take in (essentially) a third or so of the Cabot Trail as part of your drive, maybe just short of half. Because of this, we calculated that we'd need to leave around 8:30 or 9 at the latest, given the time it would take to drive up there. It is a very long drive up the island:

Mind you, that's the shortest route too. We take the seaside route up the west coast that takes us through Mabou and Inverness before getting on that main coastside drive allll the way up there. 

Well, we got our requisite morning Tim's and got a late start -- a late start that wasn't helped by getting stuck behind multiple super-slow drivers sightseeing in the Cape Breton Highlands and then, needing to stop and furiously pee in the rest stop at Cheticamp, where the entrance of the park was. We ended up getting to the 

I wrote about our trip through the national park and the Cabot Trail last year -- it is simply the most beautiful place I've ever been on the planet. I cannot accurately describe its beauty in words.

However. 

Last year we did it in June. This year we made the drive in October, at the height of fall foliage season.

Holy fuck.

I have visited a lot of beautiful places over the years. I have seen a lot of beautiful fall foliage in various places I've lived and traveled to or through over the course of my life. Never have I seen such beauty and gorgeous fall foliage combined until we drove through the Cape Breton Highlands in October. These pictures really don't do it justice. Daisy probably took 3-4x as many pictures as I did, too. 

So, anyway.

We sped into the parking lot of the Pleasant Bay Whale Watching place at like, 11:53 when our tour was scheduled to start at 12. Daisy ran up to use the bathroom again while I went to the box office to check in for the trip. I thought it was very odd that we were the only ones there, because as I was pulling in, there were several cars and an RV leaving. 

"Well, I have some bad news for ya," the head sailor said to me as both of us were dodging wasps that did not like us having a conversation within the little boathouse. "The winds are too strong to take the tours out, and are only going to get worse as the day moves into the evening, so we've canceled all the tours for the day. Next tour would probably not be until at least Saturday."

It was Tuesday. Saturday was the wedding that we'd come to Canada for -- currently approximately six hours away on the far end of the province from where we were at the present time. 

I had a pleasant conversation with the sailor guy; like I said, we were the only two there. He was a good seafaring man with a thick Nova Scotia accent, with what I also detected was a hint of Irish. When you're up there long enough, you tend to pick up on the regional accents a bit more than you would if you were there for, say, a day. I'm there for a couple of weeks every year, so I've become quite adept at the accent identification. If I'm up there for too long, I begin to pick it up myself subconsciously. 

Anyway, he processed the refund for us and said it would go right back into our account (I assume Daisy put it on the AAdvantage card, I never checked or asked) by end of day and would take a few business days to clear. If it didn't hit the account by like...well, now I'm guessing, as I am writing this on October 19, to let them know and they'd make it right. 

So, there we were -- at the top of Cape Breton Island, having nothing to do but go back home the way we came, back down the island and back to the family homestead. Maybe get another poutine for dinner. Etc. 

"Why don't we just...drive the rest of the trail?" Daisy asked.

Now, this was also a very long drive; her sister, our brother-in-law, and our five nieces and nephews had done that last year after we'd done the whale boat trip, and it took them until well into the late evening hours to get home. The Cabot Trail is a huge loop that takes up the vast majority of the northern half of Cape Breton Island, and it excises some of the towns in the area from it (as in, for example, the trail curves around Pleasant Bay -- to enter the town of Pleasant Bay proper, you exit the park/trail and when you leave town in the opposite direction, you re-enter it). Anyway, it circles the top half of the island and gives you various exit points in a few places, like Ingonish (which I believe is the eastern end of the trail). From there you can either drive the scenic route along the east and southeast coast of the island or you can take a more inner route and see more forest, the Bras d'Or Lake, etc. 

I was apprehensive about driving the rest of the trail, but I was also pretty tired and somewhat burnt out -- I'd barely slept or had any real downtime on the trip to this point, the bed in the hotel was hard as a stone, and I was living off Tim Hortons and Monsters -- which are legally regulated in Canada to only have half the caffeine they have in the states because of health concerns -- so I would have to double-fist them to get the same effect. I also didn't want us to get lost in an area where we'd have zero cell signal for the GPS, because it is very sparse up there, and there are zero gas stations or landmarks -- or even any real communities on most of the northern part of the island -- it is wilderness. Wilderness and coves, and rocky beaches. 

We decided to make the drive anyway, to do the entire trail and then figure out which route to take to get back home, but not before stopping at the quaint biker-oriented gift shop in Pleasant Bay where we stopped last year with the whole family. 

I should note that on this trip, we really didn't get much of anything in the way of souvenir stuff. Daisy wanted specifically to get a second black Canadiana hoodie from Walmart, I wanted the mottled heather gray one, and Mama asked us if we'd pick up a red one for her. We got all of those, which took up a significant amount of suitcase space, but...we hadn't really gotten anything else and hadn't stopped at any other souvenir shops while traveling. Normally by the time we've hit up Walmart, Giant Tiger, and Dollarama, I have a suitcase full of new Canada t-shirts and coffee mugs, keychains, stickers, patches, etc.

But, I've collected a lot of that stuff already over past trips. This time I just wanted the gray hoodie so that I would have the entire set, one in every color the Canadiana company made (black, red, yellow, and gray). I have enough Canada-centric clothing and decor to last a lifetime; I really don't need any more at this juncture.

But that is also a nice little gift shop up there in Pleasant Bay, and we did get a few little things -- Daisy got a "Sounds of Nova Scotia" CD, and we both got a few patches and pins for our clothing and backpacks. I'm one of those guys who is going to start collecting iron-on patches and just covering my travel backpack and military jacket with them, I think. It's fun. It's kitschy. 

By the way, the music on these Canadian radio stations...oh my, y'all. Radio is alive and well in Canada. Good radio, radio that plays songs you actually want to hear. 

These guys cover Chuck Berry's "C'est la vie" in French and do a hell of a job of it -- to the point where I came home and immediately looked it up to listen to it again.

I have also learned that Canada has a rather strange obsession with R.E.M. and Queen -- neither band I would think would have a strong following in Canada, but Canadian radio loves them both. I heard no fewer than five different R.E.M. songs on the radio up there over multiple stations, over multiple days of driving around in the Bronco. The same goes for Queen too; we heard multiple Queen songs. Could it be coincidence? Sure, I guess, but it seemed pretty odd to me at the time. 

And, of course, because we were in Canada...

This is how I truly know I'm in Canada when I'm there -- they play The Hip on the radio. And not just their big hits, either. "Fifty-Mission Cap" isn't necessarily a deep cut, but it is off a 30+ year old record (Fully Completely) and I wouldn't necessarily call it one of their top five, even top ten, big hits for them. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong, maybe it was wildly popular in Canada and I'm just unaware because I'm a stupid American. 

Still, hearing The Hip on the radio is amazing, it is a surreal experience for me. I'm sure I'm one of a very small group of people who appreciates that in the way that I do; to Canadians I'm sure hearing The Hip on the radio is a pretty normal thing. To an American who knew nothing of them aside from their name for years, then rapidly became a fan after hearing some of their stuff a few months ago...it's akin to a religious experience. 

Anyway. There's more coming about The Hip later as I continue my story, so let's move on. 

After we hit the souvenir shop in Pleasant Bay, we took our time traveling the rest of the Cabot Trail through the forest, up and down mountains, through every bit of foliage possible -- interspersed with clear open views of the open ocean and rocky cliffs, little seaside towns with fishing/lobster boats and private yachts side by side. We stopped at multiple overlooks and took many pictures. We even stopped at a little beach tucked into the highlands with a short path through the woods leading down to it:

I don't know if I've ever seen more idyllic nature in my life. 

We circled the vast majority of the very large island, before cutting inland and driving along the Bras d'Or lake shore after we exited the trail. The entire drive took almost a full tank of gas and was something like, oh, 300km total, and by the time we were back "home," our original plans of getting me more poutine for dinner fizzled out since we were both tired. Instead we went to the family homestead to see Daisy's grandmother.

"Would you like us to do a Thanksgiving dinner with you?" Daisy asked her.

Now, for those of you who don't know -- and I wouldn't expect you to if you're not Canadian -- Thanksgiving in Canada is not when we do it here in the states. Thanksgiving in Canada is always the second Monday in October. In the states, this is Columbus Day / Indigenous Peoples' Day. I mentioned before that Thanksgiving in Canada doesn't seem to be a huge deal like it is down here in the states, but it's still a significant holiday for them. Canadian tradition is, generally, to do their Thanksgiving dinner on the weekend prior to the actual holiday and focus on downtime and family afterwards. I mean, I guess -- that is the sense I got from most of the Canadian friends and family we spoke to while up there.

However, we were leaving town on Friday to head to Halifax, the wedding was Saturday, and we were flying out on Sunday -- meaning, we would completely miss Canadian Thanksgiving. It couldn't be avoided, it's just how the travel schedules fell. We travel for maximized time with minimized cost, and our in-and-out dates were what worked.

Daisy's grandmother agreed to a Thanksgiving dinner, and I went downstairs and pulled out a frozen turkey roast for her out of the freezer. Daisy's aunt and uncle enthusiastically said they'd join us too, so there would be a dinner for five -- me, Daisy, her grandmother, and the aunt and uncle. Daisy made it clear that either grandma herself or the aunt and uncle would need to deal with the turkey (Daisy, the lifelong vegan, will not touch or handle meat, and I don't blame her), but everything else she/we would go pick up and make/cook.

So, early the next morning, we had a new mission....