Story & photos by Scott A. Williams
North of Ingonish, I flash back to my first ride to Cape Breton Island. My then‑-new girlfriend was seated behind me. It was 1993 and I hadn’t discovered heated gear, so we fought the cold with rainsuits, hers bright red and mine vivid blue. Chilled but invigorated, we cruised a sweeping roadway carved into a rocky coast, looking for Green Cove where migrating whales might be visible from shore. Angry seas made spotting their blows impossible, but no matter; this was a new and exciting adventure.
Rides like that – on great roads, through tremendous scenery, with chances to see wildlife – are my motorcycling nirvana. Now I’m back for the third time on Cape Breton Island, in the Canadian province of Nova Scotia. As before, my base is Baddeck, a town conveniently situated at the start of the world‑-famous Cabot Trail (also at the end, since it’s a loop). A few dozen of the usual suspects, coming from as far as North Carolina, have gathered here to ride this stunning region’s best roads.
I cross the border from New Brunswick into Nova Scotia, then follow Route 6 and secondary roads along the northern shore. Just off Road 245, in Arisaig Harbour, is the Arisaig Lobster Interpretive Marine Life Centre. Museum‑-style displays inside reveal fascinating lobster facts. For example, lobsters were so plentiful in the 1800s that the first settlers, the Mi’kmaq, simply walked the beach at low tide and speared them. What’s more, lobsters naturally come in many colors (including blue), and all except the albino turn red when cooked. Today the Centre is offering lobster rolls to go, so lunch is easy and delicious.
Skies start to clear as the ride continues through Malignant Cove, Georgeville, and Livingston Cove to Cape George Point. There, the Cape George Lighthouse overlooks the Northumberland Strait, which separates Nova Scotia from Prince Edward Island, Canada’s smallest province. Road 337 winds us south to Antigonish and Route 104, part of the Trans‑-Canada Highway, which crosses the Canso Causeway to Cape Breton Island. Route 105 (also part of the TCH) takes us to Baddeck.
Next day, I head out on a morning jaunt through the Lake Ainslie region east of Baddeck. Smooth, curvy blacktop cuts through a deep green landscape and along a calm lakeshore. At Margaree Harbour, the Northumberland Strait comes into view. A ways north on the Cabot Trail is the village of Chéticamp. At Restaurant Evangeline, most patrons are speaking French. Greeting the server, I exhaust my recall of middle school French: Bonjour (Good morning) and Comment allez‑-vous? (How are you?). She appreciates the effort, then takes my order in English.
This part of Cape Breton is Acadian, with strong cultural ties to the early French settlers of eastern Canada. The French tricolor flag, adorned with a gold star, is widely displayed to symbolize this heritage. I notice that many road signs in this region include both English and Acadian French. In other regions of Cape Breton, signs often include Scottish Gaelic (remember, Nova Scotia means “New Scotland”) or Mi’kmawi’simk (a language spoken in First Nations communities).
After breakfast, the ride returns south on the Cabot Trail to Road 219, hugging the coast to Dunvegan. There it joins the Ceilidh (say “KAY‑-lee”) Trail and rolls south through Inverness, Mabou, and Port Hood. Doubling back to Road 252 delivers me to Whycocomagh and an afternoon coffee break. In the cafe, I notice framed photos of local hockey teams, recalling another memory.
Thirty‑-some years ago, in a locker room in Springfield, Massachusetts, I learned that two guys I played hockey with also rode motorcycles. This prompted an invitation: “You should ride with us.” On a cool autumn Sunday, I pulled into John Colleton’s driveway at the appointed time, riding my 1989 Honda PC800. A year before, I bought the bike new‑-in‑-crate, two model years old.
“This looks like a good touring bike,” John observed. “So where are you going on it?” I told him I’d been out to the Berkshire Hills and up to Vermont. “With a bike like this, you can go farther.” Proving his point, John opened a photo album. There he was, on his BMW K100RT, along with his friend Gary Monte (our hockey goalie) on his Yamaha XZ550 Vision. Stretching out in the distance behind them was a road carved into the side of a mountain overlooking the ocean.
“Where is that?” I wondered aloud.
“Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Gary and I went there, and you could ride there on this bike, no problem.”
Instantly, a switch flipped inside me: I wanted to go far on a motorcycle.
I began planning a trip to Cape Breton for the next summer. John and Gary advised me to make a list of everything I wanted to pack, lay it all out on my bed – and remove half of it! From there I made further reductions. This taught me to address needs before wants for a long‑-distance trip. More than three decades later, I still go through this packing exercise.
My idea was to ride to Cape Breton alone, but that winter, life introduced other plans. I met Sheila Lowry. Early on, she learned that the skinny, talkative guy she was dating rode a motorcycle. “This summer I’m riding to Nova Scotia,” I explained. “As far as you can go, all the way to Meat Cove, on Cape Breton Island. You could go with me…if you want to.”
To find out, I took Sheila for a ride on my motorcycle. It was her first ride on any motorcycle, and she liked it so much that she decided to come along. We got her a leather jacket and gloves, sturdy boots, and that bright red raingear. We took longer practice rides, and soon she was as excited to ride to Nova Scotia as I was. That June, with fresh maps, raingear stashed in a tankbag, and one gym bag each, we set out on a ride that changed everything.
For one, that adventure confirmed my passion for riding a long way on a motorcycle to explore new places. For another, I realized that Sheila was the life partner for me: funny, clever, beautiful, devoted – and low‑-maintenance! What a bonus that is when traveling together on two wheels. Yes, we made it all the way to Meat Cove.
Some months later we were engaged. Before we tied the knot, she observed that I was a motorcycle guy long before we met and she’d never ask me to stop being a motorcycle guy. (Little surprise we’re still married three decades later.)
Flash forward ten years. I reached the milestone age of forty, and Sheila offered me a selfless gift. “Just go,” she told me. “Ride, explore, think. Take a week, maybe more. Call once in a while and tell me where you are.”
Soon after, I set out on my own, riding my brand new 2003 Honda ST1300. Compared to its PC800 predecessor, everything about the ST was bigger, better, faster, more. I was in heaven at the controls.
Maybe it was the tug of nostalgia, but Cape Breton was drawing me back. I scored a last‑-minute reservation on the overnight ferry from Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth, at Nova Scotia’s western end. In the morning, as light rain fell, I called Sheila. “I’m in Nova Scotia.”
With a map tucked under the tankbag window, I followed signs for the Lighthouse Route, one of Nova Scotia’s official scenic drives. I stopped at Hawk Beach for bird watching, then continued east along the coast, stopping in Lunenburg, Peggy’s Cove, and Halifax.
The next day, I continued east on the Marine Drive past Queensport, zigzagged around Bras d’Or Lake, and settled in Baddeck, again my base for riding the Cabot Trail. A highlight of this second Cape Breton trip was watching a moose slowly make her way along the shore of Benjie’s Lake until she stood 15 feet before me. The Cabot Trail delivered again.
Heading home, I rode Nova Scotia’s northern tier along the Northumberland Strait and the Bay of Fundy back to Yarmouth, where I caught the fast ferry to Bar Harbor, Maine. The next day, I arrived home in Massachusetts to heartfelt welcomes from Sheila, our daughter Summer, and the dogs.
Now it’s two decades later and I’m back in Cape Breton. This time, I run the Cabot Trail twice, first counterclockwise then clockwise, which delivers two distinct riding experiences. Each run includes side ventures on secondary roads to coastal locales, like Neil’s Harbour and Dingwall, and on winding roads that parallel the Cabot Trail, like West Middle River Road. The weather gods bathe me in sunshine.
Within Cape Breton Highlands National Park, riding the Cabot Trail is truly a world‑-class experience, with wonderfully engineered, well‑-maintained roads. Some northern sections outside the park boundaries sorely need fresh blacktop, although surveyor marks suggest this shortcoming is getting attention.
The mostly American crew that gathered in Baddeck is enjoying the Canada Day holiday on July 1st. After dark, we take in fireworks from a hill overlooking Baddeck Harbour. Three days later, our gracious Canadian hosts at the Cabot Trail Motel put on a splendid fireworks display over Bras d’Or Lake, since we Americans are missing July 4th fireworks back home. The next morning, fueled by fresh memories of another great Cape Breton experience, I begin my two‑-day ride home.
Change may be the only constant, but the exceptional roads, sights, and experiences that first drew me to Cape Breton three decades ago remain as ever, waiting to be savored.
Scott “Bones” Williams engages readers on motorcycle touring, gear, and culture. His writing conveys his love of speed and motion, preference for roads less taken, and role as goodwill ambassador.
RESOURCES:
• Nova Scotia Tourism: NovaScotia.com
• Cape Breton Island Tourism: CBIsland.com
• Cape Breton Highlands National Park: Parks.Canada.ca/pn-np/ns/CBreton