Nova Scotia, PEI and the Maritimes Holiday

Getting the show on the road: Montreal to Nova Scotia

Fundy National Park proved to be an interesting experience. Initially I was quite disappointed to find that it was yet to reopen for the season but - despite the visitor centre being closed and no park literature available (I presume this is a seasonal thing?) - I soon realised that it was far from being a problem. In fact it turned out to be a very big bonus indeed as I had pretty much had the place to myself and it was wonderful to be able to explore a number of trails without the usual hoards of loud Americans . I enjoyed my visit enormously and, as I left to head to the Hopewell Rocks, I could feel that I was starting to relax at last.

I probably shouldn't have been surprised to turn in to the Hopewell Rocks site to be greeted by the now familiar ‘Ferme' sign. However I wasn't going to let that out me off so I climbed over the barrier and made my way down on to the beach regardless. Apparently there have been numerous occurrences of people getting caught out by the huge tides here and getting swept out to sea so I kept a close eye on the rising water as I wandered around the rocks but I've got to believe you have to be pretty stupid to get caught out as it really doesn't come in that quickly.

I was tempted to stay at the hotel next to the rocks for the night but I really wanted to reach Moncton so that I could witness the tidal bore and I pressed on once again. Moncton itself surprised me a little, I have to say, for it was a really lively little place; something that I'd not been expecting. I saw the tidal bore this morning and, although I was a little underwhelmed, it's kinda cool to have seen it, I guess.

In fact, if closed had been the story of the past couple of days, underwhelming really must have been the word of the day today for the whole day was taken up with a decidedly average drive down into Nova Scotia. There was nothing actually wrong, you understand, I'd just hoped for rugged rocky coastline and exciting landscapes. What I got was endless views of muddy rivers and numerous opportunities to stop and hear stories about the tides.

Earlier in the day I had been planning on heading to Kejmkujik National Park and finding a place to camp there but, worn down a little by the constant pushing on, I decided to call it a day and followed a sign from the main road to a motel. I seem to have lucked out with a fantastic little motel in the town of Annapolis Royal - in fact I seem to be its only resident tonight! It seems that there's quite a lot of things to do in the immediate area so I'm gonna go have a look for myself tomorrow morning. One of the attractions is a tour of North America's only tidal (yeah, yeah, I know!) power generating station which could be worth a visit. If it's open, of course!

Previous: Ready for the off... kinda!
Next: Finding my feet in Nova Scotia

I hope you can shake off your funk and enjoy yourself. I can definitely relate to the sadness of leaving a buddy back home. Even when we're just gone for a few days, I miss my dog. We're probably going to be gone for about 3 weeks in June/early July and the only thing marring my excitement is worrying about her while I'm gone. They are like our children, aren't they?

Remember, there are no boring roads, even if its muddy tidal basins instead of rocky, rugged coastlines. ;)

Enjoy yourself!!!!!!

I am wondering if the way I was feeling yesterday was down to some weird form of reverse jetlag and too long in the car on my own? So far I've done something like 1400 miles but today I only did something like 150 or so and they were all on backroads.

I've found a lovely little B&B for this evening and will try and post another update later this evening whilst I have use of a 'proper' PC. My frustration with my little travel laptop yesterday almost bought an end to it. All I can say is thank god the window of my room wasn't open as it may have made a rather swift exit from the room!

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Originally Posted by UKCraig

My frustration with my little travel laptop yesterday almost bought an end to it

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Ever since she first read about your new gizmo, she has wanted one -- So inquiring minds want to know -- what makes it tough to use?

Mark

I just have fat fingers and a lack of patience! I tried the eee pc first but didnt get along with Linux so traded it and bought a Vye instead. That's a Windows machine with a 120gb hard drive and touch screen... all kinda cool but the screen is pretty poor so its a strain on the eyes and the keys are too small so its a strain on the fingers.

I can't fault the idea but I'd suggest going for something just that little bit bigger. I saw a lovely Sony Vaio at the airport but it was 3 times the price of this so it's about compromise.

Finally. Day five of my trip and finally I think I'm there. Not there - I have been there since Thursday evening - but there. At this time yesterday I was felling a little stressed, worked up and worried that I had bitten off more than I could chew with this trip but, as I sit here in the rather lovely Bayview Pines Country Inn in Mahone Bay Nova Scotia, I finally feel at home. I'm not sure if it was some sort of jetlag, being in the car on my own for so long - constantly driving - or if it really was the scenery not living up to my expectations but - whatever - I'm a happier boy this evening.

One thing that I've noticed as I've travelled down through Quebec and New Brunswick has been the absense of a certain - I will choose my words carefully here - amount of enthusiasm from the people who I've spoken to. Prior to this trip I have mainly travelled in the Southern United States where the people who you bump into are falling over themselves to treat you as if you were their best friends. It's charming up to a point but sometimes it can be a little too much so, initally, I was pleased to discover that Canadians are a little more reserved. However, after a couple of days, I started to long for the openess of the South so it was with great delight that I met the good people of Nova Scotia.

The day started with a walk through the rather charming watefront town of Annapolis Royal before I hopped back in the car and headed south along the Kejimkujik Scenic Drive to the national park of the same name. Whilst the Scenic Drive wasn't all that scenic the welcome I received from the park rangers - particularly Trina who sold me my parks pass and who couldn't have been any friendlier - and I left the visitor centre with a big smile on my face even before I had stepped foot on any of the parks trails.

I have got to say that I like Kejimkujik. It is a small park and tricky to get to but maybe that's part of its attraction. It was fully open - something, that I am discovering, is quite rare at this time of year - but I had the place almost to myself (with the exception of the swarms of black fly which Trina had warned me about). As someone 'bought up' on the parks south of the border I have grown used to huge RVs roaring through the parks and huge fat people sweating their way up the trails so I am feeling somewhat spoiled with this latest development.

From there I headed south to a town called Liverpool - well, I just had to, didn't I? - which I liked enormously. From Liverpool I followed the 'Lighthouse Route' along the coast toward my next destination - Lunenburg. I have to say that this leg of the journey was exactly what I had expected from Nova Scotia; rocky coastline, rain, fog and the smell of salt. It was absolutely fantastic and I enjoyed every minute of the drive, stopping regularly for photos. I took the ferry across the LaHave River and, before I knew it, I was in Lunenburg.

I spent several hours walking around Lunenburg and the welcome - like everywhere else I'd stopped today - was very, erm, welcoming. I have to say that I liked Lunenburg a lot. As the literature will tell you it is like stepping back in time and I found the mix of historic old building, the fascinating story of the place and the working docks a fantastic mix. I will quite often stop by a war memorial when I see one - I think they tell a fascinating story - but I was particularly moved that Lunenburg had a memorial to all the men lost whilst working in the local fishing industry over the years. Some of the stories it told were quite tragic; there was one family whose name that cropped up numerous times - over the course of over 80 years - and then there was the story of one night in 1927 when over 80 men perished in a storm.

I had planned to stop in Lunenburg overnight, expecting numerous old bars with roaring open fires and old sailors telling stories of the sea to anyone who'd listen, but was surprised to discover it was actually quite a quiet little place. Maybe it was shut for winter?

After pondering the idea of stopping on a local campground, whilst sitting on the dockside eating pizza in the rain, I decided I'd really rather spend the evening in a warm dry bed and so decided to head onwards towards Halifax. I was quite taken with the town of Mahone Bay a short distance down the road and, spotting a sign for a local inn from the main road, I decided that this would be a most agreeable place to spend the evening. I like it here a lot and feel quite at home: maybe it's because my hosts are fellow Brits who are treating me exceptionally well or maybe I just got over whatever it was I was feeling yesterday. I could see myself staying here for a couple of days...

Previous: Getting the show on the road - Montreal to Nova Scotia
Next: Halifax and Peggy's Cove

Glad you're in the groove now.

My dad used to go to Halifax and other places in the Nova Scotia/Newfoundland areas on business and loved it there. He said the scenery and the people were wonderful. Glad you've found 'em! :)

I'm not sure where it's at over there but I think the dig of the Viking settlement would be interesting to see.

I anxiously await further installments from the new, old Craig.

That's such a cool photo of the two churches right across the street from each other. I rarely see that.

glad to hear your settling into the trip now.:)
must of been wierd going to liverpool without a lot of curly haired scousers running around shouting "calm down! calm down!" haa!haa! [or was there?]

They come in all shapes and sizes, scousers! One of my mates from the BTCC days (Paul O'Neill) is the biggest scouser ever... very very funny :) Thankfully none here tho... don't think I could stand it lol

Let us Yanks in on this strange English term, ok? ;)

The scouser is a persson from the Liverpool area of the UK> They have an almost unintelligable accent and the stereotype suggests that they are all unemployed and will stab you if you make eye contact with them or steal the wheels from your car if you are foolish enough to park in their area. Check out this comedy clip

I think it would be fair to describe the start of the day as up and down. And then up again. After waking just in time to watch the sun rise over Mahone Bay I went back to sleep for an hour before freshening up and then going downstairs in the knowledge there was a cooked breakfast with my name on it... which is always a pretty good way to start the day, in my book.

Having said my goodbyes to my hosts I hopped in the car and headed off in the direction of Halifax but, little more than two miles down the road, I had stopped again. There was no traffic jam nor was there any car trouble. No, the problem was there was a man stood in the middle of the road and he positively refused to let me drive round him, despite my best efforts. To be fair he was wearing a uniform with the letters RCMP on it and he was stood beside a car with lights flashing on its roof. Thankfully he was a decent sort and, upon hearing I was from London, he waved me on as, "it's too much paperwork to book you and you Brits can drive so much better than the locals anyway!"

After that reassurance I made exceptionally good time - and, as my confidence grew in the car, I had an exceptionally good time! - and was soon turning in to the parking lot for the memorial to Swiss Air flight 111. I sat there for some time looking out to the site where the plane crashed in 1998 and couldn't help but feel, as someone who does their fair share of air travel, a connection with the people who were on that plane. It seems incongruous that they should have suffered such violent deaths in such a tranquil and beautiful setting. It was a shame that a bus load of tourists had to roar up and ruin the moment as its passengers descended on the site, laughing loudly, talking on their mobiles phones and posing for photos around the memorial. I was about to say something to them when I realised they were all speaking German so I decided to leave them to it and made my way to the nearby town of Peggys Cove.

It has to be said that Peggys Cove is a really cool little (and certainly it is little!) old fishing village which has, unfortunately, been ruined by tourists such as myself wandering around photographing everything in sight. It's said that Peggys Cove is one of the most photographed places in the whole of Canada which, when you figure that list will include destinations such as Toronto's CN Tower, the Expo and Olympics sites in Montreal, and Chateau Frontenac in Quebec you get an idea of the scale of the problem. That's not to say I didn't like Peggys Cove - far from it - and I spent several hours wandering round it and photographing it from every angle. It's fair to say that I liked it a lot.

The road from Peggys Cove to Halifax is quite surreal - almost like something you'd find in Utah or Arizona - only colder. The road winds its way between huge boulders deposited on the land by glacier movement creating not only a unique landscape but a really challenging drive. I was really enjoying myself and I was somewhat disappointed to reach the end of the road.

My disappointment subsided when I got out of the car and checked out the city. I wandered first through the Citadel, then past the Old Town Clock down towards the waterfront. I've always felt cities - particularly those in North America - to be such impersonal places but somehow Halifax felt different.

For the past few days I'd been hearing that the USA and Canada were facing each other on the ice in Halifax but it came as a surprise to discover, as I passed the Metro Centre, that it was in fact a fully fledged World Championship. With fans from all over the world on the streets it really added to the vibe about the place. I was offered tickets for the big game but $250 was too steep.

Down on the waterfront there was something of a carnival atmosphere; I watched people ignoring warning signs and trying to clamber up on top of a huge concrete ‘wave' (guess you have to see it for yourself), people were socialising in bars and restaurants and there was even a colossal sailing boat which had sailed across from the Isle Of Man - I was told it was being used as a base for a movie star attending a movie premiere nearby. And then there was the ice hockey. Fans from Finland, Germany, Latvia - in fact most countries in Europe seemed to be represented with the exception of the UK - were milling around dressed in their country's colours and heckling their opposition and lapping up the sunshine as official team cars with registration plates from all over Europe cruised on by.

It was a great atmosphere but, much as I wanted to stick around and savour it for the evening, the hotel rates were insane so I decided to get some miles behind me and headed off in the direction of Cape Breton Island. I had thought about camping and followed the signs off the highway to a likely looking campground but I was afraid for my safety when I saw the people running it so I took off again! In the end I made it here to the Cove Motel which is just a mile or so from the causeway which leads on to Cape Breton. It's the usual motel fayre - undecorated (and very probably uncleaned) since the seventies - with the notable exception of the ridiculous price. I did consider turning around and heading back to the campground but I was starting to get frustrated and worried that I might have another encounter with the local police so I decided to hand over the cash and retire to my rather tired looking room for the night.

Previous: Finding my feet in Nova Scotia
Next: Cape Breton Island & The Cabot Trail

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To be fair he was wearing a uniform with the letters RCMP on it and he was stood beside a car with lights flashing on its roof.* Thankfully he was a decent sort and, upon hearing I was from London, he waved me on as, “it’s too much paperwork to book you and you Brits can drive so much better than the locals anyway!”

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I must be missing something -- what was the road hazard that he was supposed to be stopping you from?

Beautiful photos -- thanks for the update!

Mark

I was going just a little too speedily for him...

You are a charmed man...

Mark

I woke early and left early. The Cove Motel was that grim. First stop was the tourist information centre - something that they seem to do very well indeed in Canada - and I was furnish with more information than you could possibly imagine, or indeed digest, the most important piece being that all the trails in Cape Breton Highlands National Park were likely to be snowbound and closed. Seeing as I was heading straight on up there I was somewhat disheartened to hear this but decided to head on up anyway; if only to experience the fabled Cabot Trail - the road which runs around the northern part of the island and which is regarded as one of the most scenic drives in the world.

With my plans to spend a couple of days up in the national park in tatters I decided to slow down and enjoy the rest of the island instead. Once I had passed the initial 10 or 15km - which looked much the same as anywhere else - the scenery started to change and I started to fall in love with the place. I was going to enjoy my enforced slowdown; stopping to chat with locals, exploring side roads and tiny harbours. One particular road was just the ticket and gave me chance to turn off the traction control and practice being Colin McRae for mile after mile of rough dirt track. Let me say now - and please god don't let the rental company be reading this - the Dodge Charger is one under-rated car. For a big car it handles like an absolute dream off road and I had the time of my life driving it. The only downside was that, being an automatic, it suffered from not doing exactly what I wanted it to do and I almost dropped it into a large ditch at one point... if ever you decide to buy one go for the manual option!

Cape Breton Highlands National Park, when I finished playing off road, was very much open much to my delight. As ever the rangers in the visitor centre were friendly and helpful and seemed genuinely pleased that I'd taken time out to visit their park. I found that charming. After receiving some advice about the wildlife - I should admit here that I have a bit of an issue with the idea of being eaten by a bear - I headed off into the park and towards trail number 7 - the Skyline Trail. It was a moderate 5-mile trail through a relatively level wooded area which I had entirely to myself with the exception of a curious moose (which scared the crap out of me until I realised it wasn't a bear - something which took a couple of seconds to digest!) My reward at the end was a spectacular coastal landscape - utterly awesome - but my hope of sitting there and enjoying the view in peace were dashed when I discovered that three people were already sat at the end of the trail enjoying the view in anything but peace so I made my way back along the - somewhat tougher - return trail.

This slowing down business gave me more time to ‘smell the flowers' as someone had put but it was pretty damn time-consuming and my mind now turned to where I was going to spend the night. I pulled out my park map and spotted a small community named Meat Cove which was located at the very north of the island and accessible only along a 10km long unpaved road. On a whim I decided to head out there and what an inspired choice that proved to be. That Charger was put through its paces once again - without incident this time - and I arrived at the very end of the road to discover... a campground. I was told that it had yet to open for the season (surprise, surprise!) but they took pity on my apparent look of disappointment and told me that I was welcome to pitch tent wherever I liked and then refused my grateful offer of payment.

I chose the most amazing spot on a tiny headland overlooking the ocean and excitedly set up camp. My tent has been all over the place with me and is so well-used that it is reaching the end of its useful life but there is one thing that I am sure of - not once have shared an evening in such a spectacular location. I was totally moved by the experience and spent two or three hours sat right out on the rocks watching the sun set and then staring at the stars. I went to bed around 1am and I did have a little smile to myself that, if I'd have been back in the UK, I'd have been getting up for work around that time. I have to say I rather prefer this new way of life!

The next morning I woke in time to watch the sun rise whilst I sat in my sleeping bag and then sat there for another hour or two just watching the waves crashing against the rocks and the birds hunting for food. I had been told that there were whales off the coast but I never did see any. Eventually I decided that I best head off along that rather marvellous dirt track once more as I had an important mission; last night I had dropped and broken my camera and I needed to buy a new one.

I had been kicking myself for not bringing my old one as a spare as the scenery was - as ever - simply stunning but everything happens for a reason and I was able to enjoy the ride rather than swinging off the road every five minutes to take photos. I stopped to do another longish hike - somewhat more strenuous this time - and then left the park in the direction of Sydney where I hoped to find somewhere to pick up a camera.

The last time that I had to buy a new camera I was in Alabama and popped in to the local Walmart and was amazed to receive a high level of help so, when that was the first store that I found in Sydney, I decided that I couldn't go far wrong in repeating the exercise. And it was a repeat; the guy (who, it transpired, was from the UK) couldn't have been any more help and I soon left with exactly what I needed. It's not as good as my old camera but it was cheap and does everything I needed it to do. I know I should have been angry at myself for breaking my old one but I was still so high on the last couple of days that I couldn't care less.

I had liked the national park so much - definitely up there with Death Valley and Zion in my top three parks - that I decided to heed the advice of the ranger I met in the park and head on down to the reconstructed Louisbourg Fortress. Unfortunately, having driven an hour out of my way, I arrived to find that it was... yes, you've guessed it, closed for the season. I was unimpressed to say the least - especially having visited on the advice of someone who should probably have known this - and sat there for a bit not sure what to do or where to go next.

My next destination was Caribou to catch the ferry to Prince Edward Island but, according to the satnav, this was five and a half hours drive away which would have seen me roll into town some time after 11pm. With the last ferry leaving at 9pm and having had little sleep the previous evening this wasn't too attractive an option but I decided to head in that general direction and find somewhere to spend the night part way. I couldn't understand how it could possibly take that long to cover a little under 200 miles but ten minutes sat at a stop sign waiting to go through some road works (I'm not kidding) and the unbelievably slow driving of the locals soon made me realise. Eventually I had the good fortune to hook up behind a white van (they're the same the world over, it seems) whose driver was apparently on a mission and I followed in his slipstream for the next four hours - I will not mention the speeds that we were doing at times in case it is used as evidence against me - until I was just ten miles from the ferry terminal where I turned in to the Tara Motel in New Glasgow. After going for 36 hours without a shower or a shave it felt so good to finally be able to freshen up and get a proper nights sleep.

Nova Scotia - and Cape Breton Island in particular - have been an absolute blast. I've gone from indifference to the trip to excitement and I felt sad to leave it behind.

Previous: Halifax and Peggy's Cove
Next: Prince Edward Island

Craig,

A "curious" moose would be more terrifying to me than a crankie old bear.... I don't have any stats handy, but I bet Moose kill more people each year than just about ever kind of bear out there...

Mark

Here are some moose safety tips. I'm continue to enjoy your updates, Craig! Glad you found a friendly moose!

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I chose the most amazing spot on a tiny headland overlooking the ocean and excitedly set up camp.

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Wow, that really looks like an amazing place to camp -- how were the winds? Did you ever find out why it is called "meat cove"?

Mark

Back home in the UK people have issues with Prince Edward; they say he's camp, limp-wristed and good for nothing. I've actually had the benefit of meeting him and I, largely, disagree. I like to think of him as a little bit odd but otherwise reasonably normal - I guess he just struggles a little living in the shadows of his big brothers a little. It is fitting then that my opinion of the island bearing the same name was pretty much the same. I guess when you have Cape Breton Island and Nova Scotia ‘proper' across the water you're never gonna come out on top.

I made full use of the ferry crossing (it's free to cross to PEI - you pay coming off the island) by heading up to the passenger deck, plugging my laptop into the wall and typing some emails to friends (no wi-fi on the boat, sadly, though there had been whilst waiting on the dockside which was a nice thought.) I was amazed how quickly the 75 minute crossing went and I was pleased to note the lack of bus loads of screaming school kids and smelly East European lorry drivers which we all associate with ferries in Europe.

I stopped at the traveller information office as I drove off the ferry but, as I should have expected, it was closed. Whilst the whole ‘sorry - closed for the season - see you next year' situation had been a frustration in Nova Scotia it was not something that had presented a massive problem. On PEI however it would; the whole island - every last red muddy part of it - was closed. I kid you not.

I greeted a couple of fellow visitors who were disappointed to learn that the traveller information office was closed and I suggested that they try the adjacent liquor store which was actually open. One of them looked at me impassively and pronounced, "son, you need liquor to cope round here at the best of times" and, much to the displeasure of his wife, headed off in the direction of the store. I guess I should have known at that point that I wasn't gonna fall in love with the place.

I started making my way around the coastal route towards Prince Edward Island National Park but, after an hour or so of muddy red scenery (seriously, why is everything red?) I got bored and decided to cut out the faff and head straight to the park. Looking back there is one thing that they do very well on PEI and that is build roads. Away from the scenic routes they just ploughed roads in dead straight lines across the island - the Romans would have been very proud - and I soon arrived at the Greenwich area of the park. I was greeted by a huge visitor centre (or interpretative centre as they call them in Canada) - which was locked down - and very little else. There was a car outside with Parks Canada painted on its side so I made my way round the perimeter of the building until I found an unlocked door and, sticking my head round the door, I called out to try and attract some attention. As there was no reply I made my way down the corridor towards a distant voice, calling out as I went, until I reached an office with a guy inside who was talking on the phone. Seemingly deaf, he'd not heard me calling out and, judging by the look on his face when he saw me, I might as well have been a hungry bear making my way in to tear him apart. Thankfully he never pulled a gun from his drawer and, once he'd gotten over his shock, he happily handed me the park brochure that I‘d come in search of.

I made my way down onto the beach area - climbing over railings and signs pronouncing its closure - but wondered why the hell I'd bothered when I made it out there. It was bitterly cold and the driving wind was whipping up the surf and driving the rain right into my face. I was wondering quite why I'd come this far when I could have gone to any beach in the UK and got just as cold and just as wet. Disheartened I made my way back to the car and headed for another trailhead. All the signs had been removed for the winter - why they do this I do not know; maybe they are expecting an invasion by the Germans and they're hoping to slow them down? - so it was a case of pot luck. I semi lucked out as, after three or four kilometres, I made my way across a huge pontoon crossing a lake and arrived at the biggest sand dunes you will ever have seen. Very impressive. Though making my way through the dunes and on to the beach was a mistake again - I really should learn - and I hurriedly made my way back to the car where I pumped the heating up onto maximum and headed for the main area of the park.

Guess what? Despite the sign at the park entrance telling me otherwise, all the campgrounds were closed. I went to the ranger station to register a complaint in the most forceful way possible. After remonstrating with the poor guy on duty for some time - actually that's a lie, but I was by now most frustrated so I was planning on doing so... until I spotted his gun - I headed off in search of accommodation for the night. I had presumed that I would need to head to a reasonably major town - and for that I'd need to cross the Confederation Bridge to New Brunswick - but I lucked out when I stumbled across the Pines Motel near Rustico beach. I was their very first guest of the year and was made to feel most welcome and given a nice dry and warm room for a very favourable price. I guess everything happens for a reason and, having settled in for the night, I soon realised why I wasn't supposed to be camping tonight. It had started snowing.

Next morning I had two things that I wanted to do: 1) check out Cavendish, which I'd been told I really had to see, and 2) get the hell off the island. It proved to be a struggle to get out of bed - the previous day having been such a trial - but, when I finally dragged myself out, I headed first for Cavendish. En route I was intrigued enough by a sign pronouncing ‘Ann of Green Gables House' to turn in - big mistake; it was extremely tedious - but my spirits were raised when I turned in to the parking lot at Cavendish and discovered some old friends. Back at Fundy National Park I had met an elderly couple from Germany who had shipped their motor home across and had spent the past year travelling around North America and I was pleased to bump into them again. It turned out that this was their second such trip; ten years ago they'd spent three years travelling through North America, Australia, New Zealand and some other places and had enjoyed themselves so much that they wanted to do a repeat trip before they passed on. I thought that was lovely and the fact that they'd shipped their own motorhome (and their dog) across was fantastic. I'd love to think that will be me one day! We chatted for a while and exchanged tips - I was very pleased to suggest that they should stop off at the campground at Meat Cove - and then went our separate ways. I hope they make it back to Halifax safely and enjoy many more years of motorhome travel in the future.

Having endured a long and bone-chilling (literally) hike through the dunes and along the beach, I headed back to the car and fired up the satnav. I wasn't sure where to head next - I thought about hitting the ‘home' button briefly but decided to head across Confederation Bridge (it cost $41.50 to cross but, to me, it was a price worth paying to get back to the mainland) and I turned right up the coast to Kouchibouguac National Park. I won't even begin to describe what a waste of time this was to me and I spent less than an hour there before deciding to call it a day. I'd realised by now that I was getting frustrated of being in the car and was in need of an early finish. I headed to the town of Miramichi for no other reason than I liked the name and checked in to the first motel that I came across. It wasn't particularly salubrious - okay, it was downright crappy - but it had TSN so I could watch the Nascar and it had a Laundromat along the street so I could do my laundry. It couldn't have been any better if it had been the Hilton; I was just delighted to get away from the trip and be me - head down to the Laundromat to do the chores and to just sit, chill out and do sod all for a bit. Perfect.

Previous: Cape Breton Island & The Cabot Trail
Next: Around the Gaspe Peninsular

Wow, I love all the photos. I'd never really thought about driving around Nova Scotia, but now I really want to go!