The Great Escape from Grand Manan

Julie and I woke the next morning at a very chilly, ungodly hour. We bundled into as many layers as we could, and emerged from the van, pleased to find that the gas smell had dissipated. We rushed over to a dock that looked rather busy, and found our whale watching tour. The boat was somewhat small, but fit about 15 passengers all eager to see some whales in their natural habitat. I was extremely excited myself. There have been very few things on this trip that I have insisted on doing, but whale watching was certainly one of them!

The captain of the boat did a mini safety demonstration before informing us that if we didn’t see any whales today, he wouldn’t charge us for the trip out. “Oh and there’s a free first coffee, tea, or hot chocolate for anyone who wants one. Seconds are a dollar each,” he added before assuming his spot and setting out for the open ocean. Content with the trip so far, Julie and I took the time to get comfortable, grab a hot chocolate, and relax as the Atlantic slipped by.

About an hour in, the captain’s first mate announced that we were in prime whale watching territory. Suddenly, a great spout of frothy water launched into the air. It came from quite a ways away, but all the passengers, myself included, leapt to the railing of the boat to catch a better glimpse of the elusive whale. We saw a few more spouts off in the distance, and the captain directed his boat in chase, hoping to get us even closer.

Example of a Finback whale. We saw a lot of these guys.

We whale watched for a good three hours and saw several different members from a pod of finback whales, as well as a handful, at the very end of the trip, of humpbacks, my favourite kind of whale. It was a wonderful trip, and while I didn’t take any photos, I will remember the awe I felt just watching such large, powerful creatures slipping in and out of the waves.

Example of what we saw of the humpback whales.

Back on shore, Julie and I returned to the van feeling quite hungry. We decided to drive down to a little provincial park we’d seen the night before and have ourselves a picnic. We set ourselves up at a picnic table right by the ocean. This time it glittered with the warmth of the sun instead of the cold of the moon’s silvery light. Everything in Grand Manan looked so much more cheery and safe in the daylight than it did the night before!

We ate salad for lunch and when we were finished, Julie suggested we stay and relax for a little while. So we unpacked our camping chairs, pulled out our books and our sunscreen, and read for the next three hours. At some point, I decided to get up and do the dishes, and I packed them all away in the van. Then I asked Julie, “What time did that man who followed us last night say the ferry left?” “Three o’clock.” “What time is it now…” “Twenty to three.” We looked at each other. A silent decision to hastily pack up and race for the ferry crossed between us, and then we were both bolting into the van, buckling our belts, starting up the beast, and powering down the dirt road to the highway as quickly as the speed limit would allow. Once on the highway, we were rolling at 80km/hour, but the fast-stretch didn’t last for long, falling into 50km/hour zones frequently. Julie and I both knew it was only 1/2 hour from one end of the island to the other, but we were not sure whether we would catch the ferry or not, and we were not willing to get a speeding ticket in order to do so.

Eventually I could see the ferry. It was docked, but I was sure it was preparing to pull away. We arrived at the gate, our adrenalin causing us to be a bit out of breath and fidgety. The lady at the gate was very pleasant with us. “Hi there, how can I help you?” “We’d like to get a ticket for the ferry please,” Julie answered. “Which ferry?” asked the woman. “Uhhh, preferably the 3pm ferry.” The woman looked at us, almost in disbelief. She glanced quickly at her watch and radioed the ferrymen. “Hi boys, do you have the doors shut yet, over?” she asked. “Not yet, over,” came the response. The woman shot us a sly smile. “Do you have room for one more vehicle, over?” “Yeah sure, send it in, over.” Julie and I glanced at each other. I fist pumped a little. I know, but it was just such an exhilarating moment.

“You girls are so lucky,” commented the woman as she rang through our ferry toll. “They usually have the doors closed already and are off at precisely 3:30pm.” “What time did we get here?” We asked her. “Three twenty nine exactly.” It was fate.

Elated by our successful dash for the ferry, Julie and I rewarded ourselves with some tea and a cup full of coffee-flavoured ice cream. Then we started reading our books when who should come and sit down with us, but the man from the truck the night before!

As I said earlier, the daylight changes everything, and it was the same case for this gentleman, whom we learned was nicknamed Beaver, after the character on the old show Leave it to Beaver. While I’d been terrified the night before that he’d possibly been a crazy psycho killer out to kidnap and murder us, my opinion 180’ed and I found that Beaver was actually a really kind, friendly, and interesting person. The three of us had a very nice chat about the whale watching among other things, and then he was off to attend to his duties since he worked on the ferry. I told Julie almost immediately what a nice guy I thought he was. I was a little ashamed I’d even thought he could be a serial killer. But I couldn’t help it the night before. I’m a bit of a freak of nature that way; I always think that I’m going to encounter an evil murderer and meet my doom.

Before the end of the ferry ride, Beaver joined us again, and we had another lovely chat. Julie and I both left the ferry, and Grand Manan Island, very pleased with the entire day, and most especially with the friendly and generous people we’d met.

-Nicole

Introduction to Grand Manan

Has anyone else ever heard of Grand Manan? Before this trip of ours, I personally hadn’t heard of it. But it is an island located off the Southish coast of New Brunswick, and it’s totally part of New Brunswick. Julie and I took the last ferry across that night, the 9pm ferry. The ride was an hour and a half, and by the time we got to Grand Manan, it was very dark out.

Allow me to set the scene for you: The island is dark, with very few street lights illuminating the roads. No houses or shops have their lights on. It feels like a ghost town. A large silver globe hangs in the starless sky, illuminating the icy waters that surround the dark, deserted island, reminding the residents and visitors of their inability to escape. The two young women in the light blue hippy van take their first right off the ferry, lacking a map or proper directions to lead them where they need to go: Seal Cove. The road leads to a very desolate part of town, one where the houses are vacant, with rags of old blankets hanging in the dark windows, lit only by the reflection of the moon on the dirty panes of glass. They women hastily turn around, lest there be any ghosts haunting the premises (a deep fear of Julie’s). They continue on one of the sole highways on the island, almost the only vehicle in the streets, almost.

The vague directions provided to them by the lady that owns the whale watching tours out of Grand Manan the young women follow as best they can. They look for a hill, as mentioned by the lady, a hill at the bottom of which will reveal a road that will lead to a free parking lot where the young women can park for the night. They drive slowly, and angry drivers pass by on their left. One vehicle doesn’t pass, so out of consideration, the young women pull over with their hazards on. To their dismay, because they are grumpy and a little nervous, the car slows as well, and pulls up cautiously beside them. In the car is a pleasant mother of two children who sit sleepily in the back seat. She asks if the young women need help. They answer, and she points them to the road they seek, then drives off into the night.

The young women turn left onto the road. They drive slowly, as the road is lit only by their headlights, but features many hills over which they cannot see. The road continues straight towards the coast for fifteen minutes, and opens to a very dark and empty parking lot. The lot is right by the ocean. The women can hear the waves lapping against the beach, but they cannot see them as the lot is surrounded by a thick covering of tall reeds. In fact, the reeds surround the entire, empty lot; a lot that exists so that hikers may park their vehicles to walk the trails along the beach; a lot that is nowhere near a house or shop, or any ear that may come to the rescue if necessary. The women decide the lot is probably a good place to get kidnapped and murdered by some freaky serial killer who waits for unsuspecting women to emerge from the late-night ferry, and so they turn back.

They drive on, into the night, passing Dark Harbour, Little Dark Harbour, Deep Cove Beach. Finally, a dimly lit harbour comes into view, and then they see it: a sign that reads Seal Cove. Relieved, they pull slowly into a parking lot situated right beside the harbour. They pull as tight as they can to the grass edging the gravel lot. They park the car, but do not turn off the ignition, discussing whether or not they might be towed from the area if they remain there, when they see a large black truck pulling around and then right up beside them. A man sits in the truck. He leans out the window, so the women open the driver’s side window to speak to the man. He asks if they are lost or in any sort of trouble. The women assure him they are fine. The conversation continues, and he reveals that he followed them from the ferry. The one woman is worried about this revelation since her friend has recently divulged that they are travelling alone. The conversation ends eventually, with confirmation from the man that the young women will most likely not be towed and a “good evening” from each side.

The women roll up their window and lock their doors. They snuggle the van in even closer to the grass hill beside the lot and then drop all the blinds. Upon entering the back of the van, they prepare for bed but they can’t help but notice a faint smell of gas. The smell strengthens when they climb into their soft, warm bed, and they panic a little about getting carbon monoxide poisoning, or getting sick from the gas fumes. One woman (Nicole) worries about the possibility of some freaky serial killer dumping gas on the van, planning to blow the women to pieces for mere pleasure. They decide to emerge from the van to check if there is a leak in their gas tank. This has the one woman worrying about being kidnapped or attacked once outside, but she goes out anyway, her companion following. They kneel beside the van but see no gas leak. The gas smell seems to come solely from inside the vehicle. They climb back in. Paranoid, they make a quick phone call asking about the gas smell and are reassured that it probably just comes from idling too long. They open all the windows, even though the outside is very cold, and they huddle under their sheets until sleep mercifully takes them away from their worries.

-Nicole

New Brunswick: Land of the Majestic Moose

I have to admit, we did not give New Brunswick a very good chance to impress us, but although we weren’t there long, our experience certainly turned out to be quite memorable! We drove into New Brunswick from Nova Scotia. We knew we’d crossed the border when the first thing we saw was a GIANT “Caution Moose” sign, complete with flashing lights. The thousands of pine trees helped too.

We drove to Moncton as our first New Brunswick stop. We got there fairly late, but we had a little raw veggies, cheese and crackers picnic in our van (in the VIA parking lot…we’d been hoping to steal free wifi), and we had a restful sleep. In the morning, we visited Magnetic Hill. I’ve been there before, but I don’t remember it being so touristy! They have a waterpark and everything now! Cloud 9 didn’t make it all the way up the hill, mostly because I stepped on the brakes on the way up because I couldn’t keep Cloud 9 straight while we were being “pulled” uphill. Lame, I know, but still an awesome experience. And to let you all know, the car after us, a TINY, easy-to-maneuver Echo or whatever, had to do the hill TWICE because he didn’t get up even close to half-way the first time. So I’d say I did a pretty decent job.

ANYWAY, right after Magnetic Hill (about 15 minutes all said and done) we high-tailed it out of Moncton and headed straight for the Hopewell Cape. We were there to walk the ocean floor, but we arrived in time for high tide instead. It was really neat watching the tide come in. It’s so quick! The tide rose 46 feet that day. Hopewell Cape boasts some of the highest tides in the world!

It was super cold while we were at the Hopewell Rocks. We cooked chicken noodle soup for lunch since we were waiting for the tide to go out, and we had a dessert of these crazy-intricate gummie animals on a stick. Mmmm…

Once 4pm rolled around, we went back into the park and down to the ocean floor. It’s a pretty awe-filling feeling to walk on the ocean floor. I was at the Hopewell Rocks once before when my friend Denise Cruickshank invited me to go on her family vacation to New Brunswick, but it wasn’t the same. I didn’t have the same appreciation for nature’s amazing ability to create such beautiful rock-sculptures…or her ability to work towards their complete destruction. The seaweed fascinated me too. It looked so much like plastic seaweed for a fish tank! I couldn’t get over it. I kept squishing the little air packs, to see what was in them. I’m weird, I know.

After we satisfied our curiosity on the ocean floor, Julie and I peeled out of the Hopewell Cape, destination: Grand Manan.

-Nicole

The Best the Island Has to Offer

As if PEI wasn’t cool enough, Nicole and I decided to improve the experience with a little alcoholic taste testing. This, at the request of a complete stranger.  Don’t tell the kiddies – but talking to strangers can result in some great things. For us, it was trying delicious beer. For you, it is this blog post.

You see, when searching for a place for a nice casual drink the stranger suggested that we try Gahan House, a brew pub famous for its seven unique beers. He also suggested we try the Tester Rail – a line of small glasses that provide a taste of each of the seven brews (as well as a bonus beer).

Below is a description and our verdict for each beer:

Sydney St Stout
Description: Dark, creamy and similar to a Guiness
Verdict: “Blegh”
Supporting Evidence: Too bitter, bad after-taste

The 1772 IPA
Description: Similar to your standard IPA, with a higher alcohol content
Verdict: “Hmm, tastes familiar”
Supporting Evidence: Fruity with a bit of bitterness, but it’s not overwhelming

Iron Horse Brown
Description: Brown Ale with a hint of chocolate
Verdict: “Meh”
Supporting Evidence: Unremarkable, but with a sweet caramelized after-taste/

Island Red (Julie’s Favourite)
Description: Standard Ale
Verdict: “Mmm!” and “Nice red flavour”
Supporting Evidence: Sweet at first, but mellows as the finish

Oyster White (Nicole’s Favourite)
Description: A white beer
Verdict: “Oh yeah!”
Supporting Evidence: Nice and smooth, like a better version of Ricard’s White

Harvest Gold
Description: Pale Ale
Verdict: “It’s beer…”
Supporting Evidence: Smooth but nothing special

Sir John A’s Honey Wheat Ale
Description: A honey ale
Verdict: “Uh…”
Supporting Evidence: No flavour. Tastes like water.

Bonus—Mixture of Sir John A and Horse Brown
Description: See name of mixture
Verdict: “Umm…”
Supporting Evidence: It’s alright, but by this point all beers blended together.

If ever you find yourself at Gahan House in Charlottetown, PEI, I hope you can use these meticulously detailed beer descriptions and comprehensible ratings to make the right choice for you!

-- Julie

Green Gables and Red Dirt

Warning: This post has not been edited. I apologize in advance for grammar and spelling mistakes.

If you haven’t guessed the location of this blog post, you fail. But just so no one falls behind, I will explicitly state that this is about our adventures in PEI. And bear with me, this is a LONG story.

Our PEI adventures begin in Nova Scotia – much like another famous story about a girl (brownie points for those of you who understand this). From Pictou, N.S. we boarded a ferry that took us to the island. The trip across was pretty relaxed as Nicole and I wrote our postcards and drank tea that had an odd lobster-y taste.

Once we landed on the island we decided that our first stop should be Lord Selkirk Provincial Park. We chose this destination because it was close and we could make our lunch there – baked beans and pea soup, yumm! Well, we intended to just make lunch, but we ended up doing much more. You see, they had a laundry facility, showers and very accommodating park attendees. So what started as a quick hour-long rest became an afternoon of cleaning up. I had never felt so clean…

As we waited for the laundry, we decided to explore the small park. This is where I discovered that PEI dirt is red, FOR REAL. I know, everyone knows that the dirt is red but I underestimated how red it would actually be. I was expecting regular brown dirt, with maybe a reddish tint. Nope. I was impressed.

RED DIRT!

Moving on…

Heading on toward Charlottetown, I tried to contact a friend that was working there at the university over the summer. Unfortunately, she never responded. Believing that I had the wrong number, Nicole and I just decided to stop at UPEI anyway for the free overnight parking. It was at this point that I realised God loves me.

Laura LOVED Cloud 9.

Not wanting to give up completely, we decided to walk to the residence to see if maybe she would be on some kind of registry. We didn’t get that far… because we ran into her on the way! It was such a flukey incident that I still can’t believe it happened. But I guess being a small island helped a bit… but the luck of it all gets better.  Laura’s job only gives her one day off a week, and we had showed up the day before her day off! So we were able to go drinking that night, and then go out to breakfast together. So lucky…

After breakfast with Laura, we headed off to make dreams come true by visit Green Gables. Now, you have to understand I have been stoked to see Green Gables since the early planning stages of this trip. Knowing how much I hyped the place in my mind, Nicole was worried that I would be a bit disappointed by what we were to see. But she didn’t need to worry…

It was awesome! Sure, the house wasn’t too exciting – looking very much like the heritage home I worked at in Ridgetown. But it was cool to see the rooms made up to look like they belonged to the various characters of the Anne of Green Gables story. And the grounds around the house were what really interested Nicole and I. On the land surrounding the house, they recreated famous paths like Lover’s Lane and the Haunted Woods. Those were a lot of fun.

And, to make it an authentic touristy place they had a gift shop with lots of kitschy goodness. Among the paraphernalia was Raspberry Cordial (again, brownie points if you get this). Of course, we had to try some.  So we bought a bottle and split it. It tastes like melted freezie. Kinda gross actually…

With Green Gables done, we  stopped at a place on the beach to pick up postcards and experience some of the famous PEI beaches. But it was a cold, grey day so we didn’t stay long. So we headed out to the town of Cavendish to cross one last “must do” on the list…

Cow’s ice cream. Apparently it’s the best in the world. Our verdict: it’s ice cream. But I must admit, they have awesome branding and some of their flavours are interesting, with pretty creative names. Unfortunately, none of them come to mind right now…

After ice cream, we headed for Confederation Bridge. But before I write about that, I have to tell you how gorgeous the province is. At this point, the sun began to peak out and the skies were blue. The island is very green, with all kinds of fields and trees. It’s very picturesque. And the rolling hills are a pain to drive on, but they add something to the beauty of the place.

The drive through the country was a great way to end our time on the island. It really left an impression on me. But all too soon we were at the bridge. (For anyone travelling to PEI, everything is close on the island.) I was actually pretty sad to be leaving the island. We’d barely been there 24 hours, and there was still so much that could have been explored and seen. Sure, it’s a tiny island, but I think it has a lot to offer. I’ll definitely be coming back…

Confederation Bridge

 The bridge was an experience on it’s own. Confederation Bridge, I believe, is the longest in the world. And it’s a bit unsettling to think that you are driving ON the Atlantic. But it was pretty cool. At the end of the bridge we drove onto New Brunswick where we had a whole new set of adventures awaiting us.

-Julie

Cape Breton: A Tale of Two Trails

Being about a week and a bit into the trip, Julie and I were certainly due up for some alone time and our Cape Breton experiences served to encourage this separation. The first night was great, although it was so cold that we could see our breath. I’m not sure how cold it has to be in order to see your own breath. Obviously above freezing, but that didn’t stop Julie and me from sleeping with our sweaters on that night.

We’d decided to splurge and stay at a campsite since we weren’t able to make it all the way to Cape Breton Highlands National Park. So the next morning, we made use of the camp facilities, taking turns to have a shower (only a day after our bath in the river!), and cooking ourselves a fantastic breakfast complete with pancakes, oranges, spam (yes father, I like spam! Jan Reid would be so proud of me! Hahahah), and tea. We were both in a pleasant enough mood, but then something happened (about which I am not able to speak, so don’t ask). Needless to say, we were both fuming afterwards—inwardly of course…outwardly we were short and passive-aggressive with each other, that is, if we spoke at all. We pretty much drove in silence the whole way to the park.

At our first campsite...

Once at the park, we started to test out the idea of separation with Julie going into the information building to figure out things, and me going to the bathroom. When she came back, I could tell she wasn’t in a great mood still. Neither was I, so it was okay. We grumbled with each other while we figured out our plans. We decided we would stay for the night and walk one or two trails before we’d settle in for supper. Once that was decided, I went with the parks person to fill up our water jug while Julie called her mother to wish her a happy birthday. Once back in the van, we drove to the campsite, and then further discussed things.

Initially, we’d both planned on doing the Skyline trail because, by the description on the map, it sounded really picturesque, with on opportunity to see moose, seals, and even whales. But when we got to the campsite, Julie took a look at the map and said, “I think you’re underestimating the distance between here and the Skyline, trail Nicole.” Having already set my mind to hiking the Skyline, I was a bit perturbed that Julie didn’t want to go anymore. The stubborn ass in me crept out at that moment, and I told Julie (nicely) that she didn’t have to come with me, but that I still wanted to do the trail. Since we’d already discussed potentially having some time off from each other earlier, we decided walking two different trails would probably be good for us. So we agreed to meet back up at 7:30pm and off I went.

Well, of course, Julie was right. The Skyline trail was WAAAAAY farther from our campsite than it looked on the map. And not only that, but it was at the top of a freaking mountain! This realization only fueled my ascent though, and I marched right up that mountain, all 455 meters of it, without even taking a break. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t too difficult a hike, but I suppose it helps when adrenaline and angry thoughts are acting as energy. Don’t get me wrong, not all these thoughts were about anything, or anyone, in particular…but you know how it is sometimes. Once you’re in a mood, it can be hard to direct your thoughts to pleasanter things. I did try though. I thought of the walk as burning off my negativity, and I couldn’t help but be amazed at the beauty around me. Cape Breton is certainly something to see for all those in love with nature.

View from the road to get to the Skyline

I also made some friends on the way up the mountain too: a small group of bikers. They chatted with me as they slowly (and I mean slowly…I was almost walking as fast as they were biking) pedaled up. I discovered that they were biking from Sydney (NS), all the way around Cape Breton, and back to Sydney. None were biking for anything but pleasure, but they were obviously fit. I only saw one of them walk his bike a little ways up the hill while he caught his breath.

The walk up didn’t seem very long, though when I looked at my cell phone, I was shocked to discover that it had taken me about an hour and fifteen minutes, but finally, there it was, the sign for the Skyline. And, as Julie had also told me, I still had another half an hour or so to go to get to the actual start of the trail. I’d only made it up the main road to where you could get out of your car to hike the Skyline. I walked this “pre-trail” bit in about 15. At this point, I was feeling worn out. I’d packed myself an apple because I knew I would need the sugar, so I ate that and drank lots of water. I never stopped walking though.

I was disappointed, but relieved at the same time, to find the trail pretty busy with people. The parks people at the information booth, as well as multiple signs throughout the park and trail, warned of the presence of coyotes, which could have only meant that they were more aggressive than your average Wile E. Coyote (Super Genius). So it was a relief to have so many people around, but at the same time, I really just wanted to have time alone to think. When I got to the trail, I didn’t see any boardwalk. I hiked for a little bit, and finally found it: a raised walkway that lead out to an area on the side of the mountain where the ocean and the mountains of Cape Breton stretch out onto the horizon forever. The sight was absolutely breath-taking. I walked down the path until I was on a perch that was right on the edge. Looking down was pretty much a sheer drop. I can’t even describe how beautiful it was. The ocean glittered as the sun danced along its surface, the mountains sloped up gracefully, covered in a dress of deep green, and the clouds dappled the blue sky like cotton balls accidentally strewn across the floor.

View from the boardwalk

I asked someone to take a picture of me. She was with a guy who was obviously terrified of heights. He kept having to sit down to pretend he wasn’t up so high. I felt bad for him. “You don’t like heights huh?” He couldn’t even bring himself to talk, just shook his head. His girlfriend/fiancé/wife/whatever just smiled and said, “Nope, he really hates heights.” He started muttering that he couldn’t go any further down the platforms. She looked a little annoyed by his fear. I smiled at him and said, “Well you should be really proud of yourself for making it this far!” He looked up briefly and smiled at me. It felt good to help cheer someone up.

Checking my cell phone, I realized that I had to turn back in order to make it to the campsite by our proposed deadline, so I said goodbye and headed back down the way I’d come. The way back always seems to be harder than the way to someplace, and this time was no exception. My legs, having gotten a moment’s rest while on the platform, decided they were going to start hurting. My ankles protested, and then I made the mistake of shifting my toes in my shoes. That’s when I realized I’d formed blisters on every one of my little toes. Now that I had discovered these blisters, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. When I’d finally made it to the road again, I was secretly wishing that someone would offer me a ride down.

I had no such luck procuring a lift, but when I was about 10 minutes from the campsite, what did I see but a big blue van pulling out of the drive. I felt a mix of emotions at that instant. A little part of me was annoyed. I wasn’t late, and here was Julie, coming after me like a worried mom. But the majority of my thoughts were filled with “wow, how nice of her, it’s so thoughtful that she would come and pick me up.” So in the end, it managed to help my mood, although I have to admit, I still wasn’t completely cured of my grumpiness. When we got back to the camp, Julie offered to cook dinner so that I could explore the beach a little bit. I took her up on her offer and walked down to the beach. My feet were stinging at that point. I figured a dip in the ocean would do them some good, so I perched on a bit of a sand bank, just out of reach of the water, and I pressed my feet into the freezing cold water. It felt really good.

The beautiful beach

I sat there and relaxed as I watched the sun moving slowly towards the horizon. The beach was made of little and big stones, no sand, so each time the waves pulled back from the beach, the little stones would shift, making a bit of a soft crackling sound as the water receded. It was very soothing to listen to. I was joined in my relaxing by several sand shrimp too. They were slightly creepy looking, but it was interesting to watch them leap towards my legs over and over again.

Eventually I stood up and walked along the beach, exploring the rocks. I thought to myself that this beach would be a horror to behold by any parent with a stone-collecting child like I used to be.

More at ease after being at the beach, I made my way up to camp for supper. We had spaghetti again, always an excellent meal, and while we ate, Julie told me about how amazing her day ended up being. I envied her ability to just find joy and pleasure in anything, since my walk hadn’t exactly completely relieved me of my unrest. I thought to myself, this is a skill I really need to learn. But it was nice to know that she had enjoyed herself and was no longer really upset about the morning’s events. For me, it took a good long sleep. But when I awoke in the morning, I was in an extremely chipper mood. I didn’t have sore muscles, my blisters seemed to have disappeared (although I’m sure they were still there), and I felt fully refreshed. On top of all that, I was extremely proud of myself for having walked up a mountain and back down again. So despite my awful mood the day before, I’m really glad for it too. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep bragging to Julie that I climbed a mountain!

-Nicole

The Hike

On Monday we arrived at Cape Breton Highlands National Park. After reviewing our options at the front desk, Nicole and I decided to spend the night in the park at the Corney Brook Campsite – especially since we wanted to experience a night right next to the ocean. And that’s exactly what we got.

Corney Brook, it turns out, is pretty much a grassy lot on a plateau. Below this, accessible by stairs, was the Atlantic Ocean. To get the full experience, we decided to back into a lot right on the edge – in front of a fence marked “Danger: Land Erosion.”

Random scenery from the trail I am writing about.

Once we were parked Nicole and I decided to go our separate ways. You see, as much as we are good friends, alone time is a necessity for our sanity. This, on top of the fact that I was in a very grumpy mood that day.

I must admit, I was a little worried about separating from Nicole. I mean, anything could happen and the numerous signs warning of coyotes were no comfort. But I spoke with some of the park employees and they said that the trail she had chosen was very popular and always busy – that was very comforting. So as Nicole walked up the road to the Skyline Trail, I crossed the street to the Corney Brook Trail.

Just at the beginning of the trail, I ran into a woman who was just emerging from it. I asked her how the trail was because she seemed like an avid hiker, all geared up and such. Her response was kind of unsettling. She said that it was excellent and very secluded. She was the first and last person I saw on the entire trail…

Before leaving, she highly recommended that I grab a walking stick – just in case of coyotes. With those words, she left. The bells on her backpack jingling as she went. BELLS! I can only assume they were to keep the coyotes away…

The mysterious walking stick.

Inching closer to the mouth of the trail, I definitely had second thoughts. But just a few feet in, there was the perfect walking stick … just sitting there waiting for me. Obviously this was a sign that I had to keep going. So I picked it up and continued on my adventure.

Aside from coyotes, fear of less tangible things kept me on my toes. This "tree-mummy" face greeted me along the path. Creepy.

Continuing along, I began to feel more at ease. Until I came across a large pile of droppings*. I don’t know what coyote poop looks like, but I can only assume it would be similar to a dog’s.  This pile did not look like it was left by a canine, so I figured I was still safe and continued on.

Another thing the hiker told me about the trail was that there was a small waterfall at the end. That was the only marker of distance on the whole trail. You see, the trail had no markers, I had no way of telling the time and the trail was a single route, there and back the same way. All I knew for certain was that the trail was 4 miles long – approximately 6 kilometres.

Rapids or small waterfall?

On the way in, time passed a bit slowly. Fear of being eaten by a coyote will do that. So I began to wonder where this waterfall was. Not knowing what “little waterfall” meant, I wondered if the woman had meant the rapids that I could periodically see below the cliff. But I knew the waterfall when I saw it.

Just as the path narrowed with a steep, thickly covered mountainside to the left and sheer drop to the right, I took a sharp turn. And there it was: a very impressive waterfall that could only be described as awesome. Awesome in the truest sense – the waterfall instilling both awe and a slight bit of fear. Having been a relatively quiet walk, the roar of rushing water was pretty startling.

Not-so-small waterfall.

After enjoying the waterfall – and the cool breeze that came off of it – I turned around and headed back “home”. Feeling pretty accomplished and proud of myself, I had a fun and carefree walk. But I don’t know if I should have been so relaxed. Because quite near the very end of the trail, I happened upon a fresh-looking pile of what appeared to be canine excrement.

*I have since come to the conclusion that this was probably moose scat. Thank you Science North!

-Julie