An iconic view of the Cabot Trail photographed in 2024( above) and in 2003( below).
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
From the MacKenzie Mountain Lookoff, the Cabot Trail switches back and forth, down to the ocean below.
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
40 / JULY 2026 / RIDERMAGAZINE. COM