Headin' Up Country: 8/9/15 I can't believe where we are

It just keeps getting better and better! Days without internet cut into my blog, but the thrills keep on coming. Cruising the net ain't got nothing on cruising the Maritimes.

8/8/15

Our Digby stay continued to entertain us in the morning as we woke up to the Scallop 5/10K starting right outside our room. About 50 runners shot out of the gate and as they returned, Jules cheered them on while cleaning Rascal. A last ride by the wharf gave us another glimpse into life here with a scallop shucking contest. Always wondering just exactly what a scallop was, we finally figured it out as we saw huge shells knifed open to reveal an edible pearl. These shuckers were so good that they were cleaning over a dozen a minute. Scallop boats sat idle for the day in the bay, taking a break for the festival.

Our plan to do the loop-de-loop of Nova Scotia was trampled as a Nor'easter bore down on the south east. Staying to the north, we cut across to Truro and then into New Glasgow. On the way, we stopped for gas and we met the Murphy brothers. Octogenarians, sporting pure white pony tails, the two were just returning from a family get-together where they "danced the reel" all night long with their siblings. A family of 11 boys and 5 girls, only fourteen remaining, none had ever married. Just another road story, but also our first peek into the Celtic influence here. Gaelic replaced French on road and business signs while it became increasingly apparent that this province was a first stop and a long stay for many immigrants.

In for the night in New Glasgow, we are inundated by everything Scottish ( Nova Scotia - New Scotland). We have escaped the storm for today, but are anxiously watching the radar, hoping the rain will turn south.

Jules cheers on the runners

Big time fishing

Shucking faster than a speeding bullet!

See the scallop?

Bringing more in

This is what a scallop looks like, shucked!

Scallop boats taking a rest for the festival

Back on the road

8/9/15

Every day for the last week our increasingly spectacular rides have prompted us to say "This is why we came." But today our quest reached new heights and now we are sure that we are in the right place. Cape Breton and the Cabot Trail will live in our riding history as one of the finests roads we have ever leaned. A twisty ride up through the forest was only a tease for what was to come when we entered the Highlands and the National Park.

Alone on a road that dipped to the edge of the wild Atlantic, we curved coves and then were drastically elevated along high cliffs leaning over the sea below. Curling up before us, the highway spun a tale of fantasy into the mist. Mystical as any Celtic island, it became obvious why Scots and Irish felt at home here. The wind from the storm and a gentle rain made this ride ethereal.

Then the lovely gentle rain began to sting and it was apparent we weren't riding out of this storm on the bike, so it would better to ride it out inside. Any port in a storm was our call as we pulled down a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, into the Cabot Shores Wilderness Resort. It was dry. We just felt lucky that we got a room here and didn't have to stay in their yurt because the sky dumped all night long.

As I tried to block out the slashing rain on our windows and the thoughts of a 6 hour ferry ride tomorrow, rolling across the storm tossed ocean, my only solace was a drifting dream back into the thrill of the Cabot Trail and it's heartbreaking beauty. Whatever comes tomorrow will be another adventure that will surely open new chapters in our ride through life.