Mike and I had plans for our honeymoon to drive to the east coast on his Harley, ride the Cabot Trail and enjoy the majestic scenes no painter could ever really duplicate. Eleven days before our honeymoon, a block and a half from Mike's brother's home, a woman slowly drove through a stop sign directly into our path. Had she hit us, it would have been broadside on the left and likely left us with significant injuries. With Mike's history of riding, racing, safe driving courses and more, he carefully put the bike into a controlled slide putting the bike between us and the other vehicle. We slid across the wet pavement in our rain suits as the bike kept moving along on its side, coming to an early demise. Fortunately for us, the car immediately following us happened to be a Kingston Police cruiser with two officers as eye witnesses. They were amazed we suffered no injuries other than a couple of minor scrapes.
We decided then to wait until after the wedding, close our eyes, put our finger on a map and go where we might. As things turned out, my brother in law from Pembroke had heard about our loss and proposed an alternate plan. 'Why don't you borrow one of my cars, meaning his Corvettes (yes it has an 's' on the end of it); take the blue one'. A couple days later we were on the road to Pembroke, left our truck there and headed off on our adventure in the blue Corvette. Mike still wanted to drive to Halifax but I was a little cautious as I believe God said no to our plan. We were headed to the home of friends in Montreal to spend the night when, in Point Claire, we had a flat tire on the Corvette. Yup, flat tire. Thank goodness for 'run flats' which can be driven up to 80 km an hour to the nearest dealer for repair. Now that God had said no twice we abandoned our plans to enjoy the Canadian east coast and ended up in Maine for a beautiful and restful time.
Last year my brother Andrew set out on a solo trip toward the Cabot Trail which we only learned about after he contacted our friends in Montreal and stopped for a visit. Like a madwoman I emailed him to see if there was any hope of Mike catching up to him on the bike and me flying to Halifax to join them for the Cabot Trail ride. Did I tell you my brother could be almost as stubborn as I am? Clearly my attempt was a failure as we really had no idea of his agenda. Attempt number two or maybe three depending on your score keeping, we didn't go.
Earlier this year Mike's two friends from high school talked of riding down east to do guess what? Yes indeed, the Cabot Trail. This time I held back, offered no life altering plans, sat on my hands and waited as patiently as possible. The moment arrived! How about if the three friends drive down east and we follow a few days later, flying to Halifax to do the Cabot Trail? YES!!!
It turned out two of us flew to meet them after the guys enjoyed a relatively leisurely ride around the Gaspé Peninsula in Quebec. We met up in Dartmouth, spent the night then rode to North Sydney the next day, Sunday. It rained almost to Antigonish where we stopped for lunch. While discussing the weather I suggested I could speak to my Dad as he is always my 'go to' for weather. My friend (she and I worked together for a short while in the mid '80's so she'd known my Dad), right there in the restaurant prayed to my Dad for improved weather for our stay. She was no sooner finished when the sun came out, shining over the rain touched patio leaving sparkling colours on the pots and pots of flowers. We went outside to say thanks when we met Kenny Mac MacLellan (true name, honest) who suggested we take a little one hour side trip around what they call locally, the 'Little Trail'. Off we went, enjoyed the view and continued our journey. Not only did we end up with no more rain, we actually entered a period of heat warnings for the east coast. Here we were riding in t-shirts and even the wind was hot. How glorious is that! I cautioned them, my Dad always did like the heat!
Due to some mechanical challenges with one of the bikes, we did a trial run of the Cabot Trail as far as Ingonish, enjoyed a true east coast lunch and rode back to our B&B in North Sydney. The third friend ended up having to leave his bike at a repair shop, had rented a bike for our practice run then rented a car and headed home as there was no quick fix to his bike. Besides he had an international flight to catch yesterday.
On our get set, real ride of Cabot Trail we left N.Sydney on Tuesday and spent the day enjoying the scenery of almost three quarters of the trail with stops at various look outs and a great lunch stop at Neil's Harbour. It was the perfect place, must be on some Nova Scotia travel commercials, we enjoyed true seafood for lunch, down east ice cream for dessert and a view of fishing boats with a large sand beach in the distance with care free swimmers bobbing around in the water.
Riding on the bike provides an experience unlike any other. You're open to the air, all your senses engaged from feeling the wind and sun, to a little cooked when stopped for traffic. On the open road you live the life of smelling the smell of lumber trucks loaded with freshly cut pine trees, the shifts in temperature from breezes high on top of the hills to heat in the low of the valleys. Leaning to and fro while following the curves and turns in the roads, chugging up and up and up, then braking almost all the way down all within God's majestic landscapes created for our enjoyment and appreciation.
The constant flow of air and sheer enjoyment of being outdoors heightens every one of our senses. I couldn't help but absorb the view of the hundreds of acres of trees of all kinds and marvel how they stand in solidarity, most often touching one another but never moving away due to their differences. They truly bloom where they're planted, all reaching for the common goal of getting enough sunshine and rain for their healthy growth. They don't even ignore those which die among them, simply allowing the broken, leafless trunks and branches to lean on their neighbours for support. Imagine if we as humans could be so accommodating with our neighbours. We could learn a lot from those dense forests. It's a refreshing reminder of how vast our country is and lush with nature's beauty. I felt a renewal of my spirit and a heightened level of acceptance of whatever God has in His plan for my life. I'm just such a small speck in the wilderness of God's creation, feeling humbly peaceful away from the urgencies of daily urban life.
Our goal was to reach the Chéticamp area and stay the night before heading toward Halifax. Our friend had booked rooms for us somewhere. I say it sincerely as it was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, called Normaway. It turned out to be a 250 acre property settled in 1829 with the Inn completed in 1928 and has been a favourite spot for vacationers and sports enthusiasts for over 60 years. I just learned by reading their brochure, it's actually on a country road at the beginning of the Cabot Trail (if your plan would be to drive it clockwise that is). We enjoyed our best meal ever in the dining room and listened to true Cape Breton fiddle music as our evening entertainment.
The next morning we went our separate ways with plans to meet in Halifax Thursday evening as Cathy and I were to fly home Friday morning. Mike and I thoroughly enjoyed our ride along the coast, stopping at a sand beach to free my toes from days of protection in my Harley boots, comfortable as they are. We also stopped at a tiny shrine of Our Lady of Sorrows in Manou. Some of the best moments were being able to stop where we liked, take in the scenery and enjoy a hint of the local lifestyle. Throughout our travels I seemed to deal out business cards randomly and to whoever I felt drawn to. They are simply my contact information with my 'job' as an Adventurer in Prayer & Medicine. Who knows who might contact me or plug in to read my little blog. I considered it my tiny bit of evangelization.
We spent Thursday on the Boardwalk of Halifax, touring Pier 21, the Canadian Museum of Immigration, one I strongly encourage any and all Canadians to view. A video of the contents and history of the museum is one I would advocate to be in every school across our country. When I first toured Pier 21 in 2001, it was fresh out of the imaginations of two co-founders celebrating the million plus immigrants who came through the port in the first decades of the 21st century. Since being taken over by the Federal Government in 2011 it has expanded to include global refugee issues and Canada's role. The importance to me is my Dad came through Pier 21 on April 5, 1951. It typically took a day to disembark the ship, work through immigration and finally, board a train to an unknown future in Canada. It's a remarkable place with more relevance today than the original founders could ever have believed. They were well ahead of their time as their original goal was to focus their attention on the immigrants, refugees and displaced persons from Europe.
In the windy, humid, muggy conditions we continued our walk down the boardwalk to our second and final destination of the Marine Museum. It included stories of ship disasters and sinking, models of many historic vessels, along with distinct exhibits of the Titanic including a few recovered artifacts. The other major exhibit was the story and history of the Halifax explosion on December 6, 1917 at 9:04 a.m. where a large part of the city was razed as a result of a munitions ship striking a cargo ship in the Halifax Harbour, 2000 lives lost and 9000 injured. I encourage you to look it up, a mere five years after the Titanic tragedy. I often wonder about the east coast of Canada and how it seems to be a portal for lives coming into our country and, conversely, lives lost due to shipwrecks, sinkings and other maritime disasters.
As I wind up this story of our imaginary bucket list adventure, I do feel a sense of catharsis over being able to complete the trip without any negative consequences other than feeling a little worse for wear after riding approx. 1300 km. in five days. One of my physicians wasn't happy about me taking on the challenge (concern over potential accidents) while my family physician remarked, 'I can think of worse ways of going than on a motorcycle on the Cabot Trail.' I was in a state of flux in the few weeks leading up to the trip wondering if it was really going to turn out ok. What I hung onto was a saying from my Dad over the years 'You can't live your life in fear of what COULD happen'. And, as a backup, reminded myself of my own value and belief 'when it's your day, it's your day, no matter where you are.' along with 'decisions along the way only affect the quality of the journey.' Guess what, replaying those tapes in my mind helped get me packed, to drive to Ottawa, fly to Halifax and get on the back of that bike! So yes, I can. I can live my life as long as it's liveable and I can enjoy things that are important to me, without being reckless or careless.
You can do it too, and I encourage you to think of one even small thing you'd like to do but have been putting off or fearful of undertaking. And guess what, the girl I travelled with has a similar 'bucket list' adventure to mine of taking a ride in a hot air balloon. She has asked numerous people, none of who are willing. I readily said I'd be willing to consider it. Stay tuned, and until next time, let your spirit guide you along the path of life.
Until next time, God Bless,
Love and hugs,
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
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