Stunning, radiant, beauteous, splendid and exquisite

Dingwall, Cabot Trail, Cape Breton Highlands National Park

It's Wednesday at 6:30 p.m. We have an hour to kill before our 7:30 dinner reservation here at the Markland, a bunch of rental cabins overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Dingwall, a tiny town near the northeastern tip of Cape Breton. The other cabins are occupied by 26 bicycle riders, all part of Freewheeling Adventures, a bike and kayaking outfit out of Nova Scotia. We passed the riders along the way from Cheticamp where many of them rode the entire 50 miles. It will be interesting to break bread with them tonight. From our experience on other trips, bicyclists look down their noses at motorcyclist like us. I'll have to regale them at dinner with stories of Margot and my recent bicycle trip to southern Spain and of my new Trek FX hybrid bike. That should break the icy reception a bit, don't you think?

After a couple of 250 mile days, we rode around 100 miles today. The beauty along the Cabot Trail was exquisite, especially after we entered Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We made many stops along the way enjoying the mountain expanse of yellow, orange and red foliage,




the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the tiny fishing coves and villages. Cape Breton in every way has lived up to its billing. We've been blessed with mostly empty roads, allowing us to peacefully soak in the beauty and descend





the scenic twisty switchbacks without incident.

Our Bluetooth intercoms have enabled us to share a running commentary about the landscape. At one point we played Thesaurus, trying to come up with adjectives other than beautiful, amazing, magnificent and gorgeous. Stunning, radiant, beauteous, splendid, exquisite were among the few. We exhausted our alternatives quickly and agreed that neither of us has a future as successful novelists.

The intercoms have been a blessing and a curse. The blessing; we warn each other about steep turns ahead, potholes, gravel, oncoming trucks and other hazards. The curse; having to listen to Eric's ongoing yawning, burping and banal banter. A sampling from today; the locals probably buy their seafood from China; Cheticamp is so ticky tacky; this town is the lowlight so far; a fly just hit my helmet; another fly just hit my helmet, let's quit our jobs and ride to Alaska; let's buy one of the Mercedes engine Winnebagos; how much will you give me for my motorcycle; I'm going to to Newfoundland tomorrow. Eric's most repetitive comment, maybe every 60 minutes or so was "I'm starving, let's get something to eat". I tell him to keep some food in his tank bag but he never does.

Occasionally I turn my intercom off. Mostly I practice my Zen and remind myself that I must read "Anatomy of Peace", the book that Margot tells me will help me resolve conflict and understand and empathize with others. I have my doubts but in times like these I'm willing to try anything.

We stopped for lunch at the Rusty Anchor in Pleasant Bay. I had the vegetable soup, an egg salad sandwich, lemonade and a cup of coffee. Eric had salmon sliders, crispy French fries and a coke. It was a great respite as we sat quietly, overlooking the placid harbor and caught up on email.

To begin the day, while Eric was sleeping, I walked into Inverness and had a peaceful breakfast (dark roast coffee and scrambled eggs and toast - they don't have oatmeal) at the Downstreet Coffee Company, the former site of the Dancing Goat Restaurant on Main St. I mention this because we heard a tale about the Dancing Goat from the owners of the Rhubarb back in Peggy's Cove. It seems that the Downstreet owner, the General Partner of the new Cabot Links golf course in town, encouraged Mervin Tignley, the owner of the Dancing Goat in Margaree, to open a second restaurant on a store block owned by the General Partner in the center of Inverness. With the new golf course complete he convinced Mervin that the restaurant would boom.

The boom never materialized. With exploitive interest rates, high renovation costs and the exorbitant lease, the Dancing Goat went belly up, bringing the original Margaree restaurant down with it. Despite pleas from the locals, the landlord did nothing to reduce the rent or to help Mervin keep his doors open. Instead, he kicked him out and used the space to open his own place, Downstreet Coffee. Many of the residents are furious and are boycotting the Downstreet. I decided to eat here to hear the owner's side of the story. To no avail. Not surprisingly he had someone else open the place while he probably slept in.

There is a Frank Capra twist to the story. The residents of Margaree rallied together to raise the funds to put Mervin Tingley back in business. As the local newspaper headlined; "The huge loss to the community and our wonderful neighbor..." is up and running again". Neighbors helping neighbors. Like the end of "It's a Wonderful Life", this real life story brought tears to my eyes.

On another note, knowing that I was heading out on a motorcycle trip, Tom Murphy (one of our loyal blog followers), Northeastern's Assistant Basketball coach, told me last week that he had a premonition that I would die this time around. He repeated it several times. He even said that it would happen today at 1 p.m. Thanks Murph. It's nice to have such encouraging and supportive friends.

To play along, Eric and I staged an accident and sent Murph a photo of me on the ground next to my bike.



The following text was attached;
"Dear Mr. Murphy, This is Eric, George's friend. I regret to inform you that George hurdled over his handle bars at 1 p.m. today. He passed away shortly before the RCMP arrived on the scene. See attached picture. His new iPhone 6 survived the accident and is now in my possession. As he lay semi-conscious on the pavement, George asked that I pass this information on to you. My condolences, Eric"

Though Murph's premonition had been on my mind all week, needless to say I made it through the day unscathed. As Samuel Clemens once said, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

When we checked into the Markland around 3:30 we were warned by the innkeeper that Moose are out in large numbers this year. He suggested that we avoid riding after 4 p.m. We thanked him for his advice and then headed out for a two hour tour of the northernmost tip of Cape Breton. 15 miles into the ride Eric and I split ways after he insisted on taking the dirt road the final five miles to Meat Cove. Easy for him to say. He has a 2012 BMW 1200GS dual sport bike with knobby tires and an electronic suspension specifically designed for rough terrain. My 2002 R1150r, with straight tires, is a road bike made for general commuting and touring. We are 600 miles from our Saturday destination. There is no way I was going to risk taking my bike on that fool hearty adventure.

Instead I ventured over to Bay St. Lawrence, a tiny fishing village tucked into the northeast most corner of Nova Scotia. There was not one person around. I took photos of the colorful boats



below a vibrant backdrop of foliage peaked hills engulfed by fast moving storm clouds. As the heavy winds began to swirl and the clouds turned dark, I hopped






on the bike and hoofed it back to our cozy cabin 25 miles away in Dingwall.





It was nice to have a little alone time and to explore a bit of the area on my own.

I'm not sure what we'll be doing tomorrow. Such is the way of Eric and my motorcycle adventures. Have a great night. -George

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Location:Cabot Trail