I'm not sure what differentiates an inn from a motel but this place is no different from the other cheap construction, single story rows of rooms and parking that we've stayed at over the years.
I knew our free Continental breakfast (I ended up having a powdered oatmeal and a frozen waffle with marmalade. Yum!) wouldn't be available for another hour but I thought I might be able sit in the lobby until then.
No such luck. There is a "Closed until 7 a.m" sign hanging on the door. I don't want to go back and wake up Eric so I am sitting out front on the yellow Adirondack chair next to a broken wooded lamp post. I did my best to wipe the dew from the chair with my shirtsleeve but with minimal success. It's more like I swirled it around. I'm not quite dressed for the wet and the chill but I'll deal with it.
There is a new requirement for a our trip this year. Eric insists on keeping the window open a few inches at night. I protest to win a few negotiating points but the fact is that it is fine with me. I love sleeping in the cold, fresh Canadien air. Enjoying the air is not why Eric does it. He read a story that someone died in a hotel room somewhere from carbon monoxide poisoning. He's convinced that all hotel and motel rooms are at risk. Yeah right. Whatever!
We rode another 250 miles yesterday; continuing down the eastern side of the Cabot Trail, through White Point and down the steep decline out of the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. The switchbacks on the way out were so tight we couldn't pick up our heads to enjoy the scenery. We did stop along the way however, soaking in the sea air, the pine-scented woods, the rich foliage and the deep blue white capped ocean. We thought we even got a glimpse of some pilot whales playing out on the horizon.
Time seems to slow in places likes this; the rumble of the sea, birds chirping in the distance, the rustling leaves. The sounds create their own sense of rhythm and if you listen carefully I swear you can hear your own accompanying heartbeat providing a beat. Cape Breton is a very special place. I sure hope to return some day with Margot and the girls.
After leaving the Cabot Trail we cruised through the bras d'Or Lake District and then spend a couple of hours on rte. 104. The traffic speed was around 70 mph and the crosswinds were heavy. I'm getting more comfortable riding in these conditions but I wouldn't want to do it everyday. The margin for error is thin. You have to be hyper aware every moment. It's tiring.
We had to take an unexpected short ferry ride across the Strait of Canso at Port Hasting. The boat goes back and forth every 15 minutes or so, taking a small grouping of cars, trucks and motorcycles with it. While waiting I decided to use the Port-a-John on the side of the road. When inside I commented to Eric through the intercoms how clean it was. Someone obviously took pride in maintaining it. As the ferry was loading and I was walking back to my bike, an extremely big guy stood behind my bike and in front of his sanitary vacuum truck. He had a big scowl on his face. I whispered something disparaging about him to Eric and wondered what he wanted. As I approached the truck driver barked "Did you leave your water bottle in my toilet?". I responded "What?" A bit louder and more sternly; "Did you leave your water bottle in my toilet". In fact I had. I was a little intimidated but mostly I felt bad. I love people that take pride in their work. I said "Yes I did, I'm sorry." He replied "Go get it." I said "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. The bottle is not IN the toilet, it's on top of the soap dispenser and I'm not going back to get it. I refuse to miss this ferry." I didn't wait for his response. I hopped on the bike, gunned it and make it up the ramp just as the crew was pulling it up. Once comfortably secure, I glanced back to shore to see the guy give me some arm motion. I felt bad about the incident and confessed to Eric how stupid I had been.
I forgot to mention that we had another little incident as we were leaving Inverness on Wednesday. On the way out of town we stopped at the Irving station at the top of the hill. We filled our tanks with gas and our tires with air and then drove across the street to the hardware store. As we were removing our helmets, a car pulled up and the woman at the wheel rolled down her window. She sternly warned "If you don't go back and pay for your gas, you're going to see flashing lights in a minute." Yikes. In our haste to get going we had forgotten to pay. I tried to explain this to the clerk at the Irving. I could tell from her expression that she didn't believe a word of it. Ugly Americans.
Our target destination for last night was Cape George, a coastal inlet that Eric had read about in his guide book. Cape George was about 20 miles inland at the end of a winding harbor road. When we approached Antigonish, the cutoff point for Cape George, the temperature was dropping fast and it was nearing 6 p.m. Perfect since the sun sets at 6:30 and we really wanted to be off the roads before dark. The coastal road was spectacular as the water sat to our right with Cape Breton glistening off in the distance.
We arrived in Cape George without incident excited to find lodging. Disappointedly, there was none. This incredible spot on the Northumberland Strait is just a residential community; no hotels, motels, no b and b's. After many hours of riding, feeling a sore, fatigued and cold, we pulled out the iPhone to see how far it was to New Glasgow. Ouch, it was 40 miles away. We jumped on the bikes and booked it. The problem was that we were heading west and the sun was at eye level. We rode for 30 minutes with the sun directly in our eyes. For long stretches we were completely blinded. I couldn't see Eric 50 feet in front of me. I could only hear him as he kept screaming into the intercom "I can't see a thing". Not a calming voice by any means. Once the sun went down the riding became easier. We rode the final 20 miles cold, sore and tired but very relieved.
The seat on my bike is very low. Though my hip replacements have been a godsend, I can't ride more than a couple of hours without having to stretch. If I don't, they hurt, especially when it is cold. When we limped into New Glasgow we pulled into a shopping center so that we could warm up a bit and search our phones for a local hotel. When I got off my bike I couldn't move. My hips, the left one in particular, had seized up. I literally couldn't step more than a few inches at a time. A searing pain shot through my leg. Eric took the opportunity to video me as I struggled towards the grocery store. I had to go to the bathroom so bad. With my legs not working, I thought for sure I would have to stand behind a car and do my business. It was a pathetic scene.
Eric joined me and it took ten minutes to cross the 100 feet to the super market. We reached the automatic sliding glass doors and low and behold, just inside, there was a wheelchair. Hallelujah! I sat down, Eric wheeled me across the store to the men's room. Ahh, relief. Crisis averted. Thank the lord.
With that taken care of, my mind settled and I could think again. Eric wheeled me around as he hunted for a snack. He found a bagel and we then headed to the checkout counter. People didn't know what to make of us. It can't be very often that someone in full motorcycle hear is pushed around in a wheel chair.
Some shoppers tried not to stare. Others thought us childlike, glaring as they thought we were horsing around on the only in-store available handicap vehicle.
We opted to spend the night at the Tara Inn ($80 per night), back down the road a mile. After warming up and stretching I felt much better. We mustered our energy and headed into town for dinner. An easy meal at the Dock Food Spirits and Ale House where the food was good and the bread pudding was to die for.
We go back to the room and watched Thursday night football for awhile. We turned it off with Baltimore up 21-0 after one period. How is it possible that Houston had a chance to win it in the closing seconds. We must have missed a terrific comeback.
We are off to Truro in a little while to see the famed Bay of Fundy tidal bore. We hope to rent a boat and experience it from up close, if you're allowed to do that kind of thing. Maybe we will do it anyway.
Until tomorrow, thanks for your loyal readership.
-George
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Location:New Glasgow, Canada
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