After saying goodbye to Mom and Peter at the Cove Motel, I headed out to ride the Cabot Trail. It had been years since I’d last done the trail, and I was excited for the ride. It turns out Erin didn’t have my number that day; she’d blown out to sea. I really could not have asked for a better day. There was no wind and the traffic was light. I’d heard from others it is best to do the trail counter clockwise and that advice did not disappoint! As Jules and I rounded the curves I had glorious views of the coast line, the blue waters of the Atlantic, and the nearly seamless meeting of sea and sky.

Early on I came up behind a trike and a bike. Although I hesitated, I finally decided to pass. I often feel it’s rude to pass my fellow bikers, but today Jules was raring to round those curves just a little bit faster. When I pulled into a lookout to soak it all in, the folks I’d passed pulled in behind me. It’s been weeks now, so I have forgotten their names, but we had a great chat about the day and the sights.

I was impressed to learn they’d both been riding for only about a month. They live on Cape Breton Island, so it makes sense they do the trail often. It was his 11th time (remember he’d only been riding about a month) and he was shooting for 15 for the season. I was so happy to spend the time hearing about their experiences. Listening to a new rider talk excitedly about their experience allowed me to be a new rider all over again too for a moment. We each leave a piece of ourselves behind, and these two left with me the joy and wonder of feeling the wind in your face for the first time (or first eleven times).

I carried on. Rounding a curve once I’d passed the eastern coast of the Trail, I came across a side road. It was paved, so I thought, “Why not?” I’ve come a long way on this trip. Yes, a lot of miles, but even more so spiritually. I’m not so hesitant when it comes to exploring. This is who I USED to be. Before the fuckery of a work bully, the lack of competent leadership in an all-around toxic work environment. That shit put Deanna on pause. This trip has brought out the real me and I felt a spiritual awakening of sorts. Recognizing that growth was empowering and piled on the joy of this adventure.

The road was narrow and winding. With a much slower pace, I could enjoy the easy curves of the Meat Cove road. I chose not to go to the campsite as I’d been there years before. If you’re in the area, you really should check that out. My memories of Meat Cove are the spectacular views out over the cliff and the incredible slope I camped on. Instead, I drove until the road ended, then turned back. I parked by some dry-docked fishing boats to have a snack and some water.

As I stood there munching my apple, I felt such a sense of peace. I did take the road less traveled and I was treated to a fun little ride. I was really beginning to enjoy the solitude of a solo adventure. Besides. I was in no hurry. Not being in a hurry is a marker of personal growth too. For the past two years, everything seemed to be an emergency. This is in stark contrast to my standard “…if there is no blood on the floor, it’s not an emergency…” response to matters at work. Toxicity tends to breed that sense of urgency. Gross.

Before I was ready to jump back on Jules I watched a duo on adventure bikes, and then a group of 4 on street bikes ride by. When they returned from getting to the end of the road, the adventure riders gave me a great big wave as they continued past my little stop. When the street bikes went by, the fella bringing up the rear slowed right down and looked over at me. I know I’m making it all up in my head, but I imagined him thinking, “Man I’d like to just stop and take it all in too, but I gotta keep up with my mates so I’d better not stop.” I smiled and gave him a big wave. He grinned and waved back. I was so grateful for having grown comfortable with my own company. This is not saying anything against those who travel with friends. I was merely noticing another change within myself.

When I returned to the Trail, I started to look for a restaurant that overlooked the sea. When I’d last been on the Trail 25 years ago, I remember sitting in a small cliff-side diner eating fish n’ chips while looking out over the ocean. By the time I zipped past exactly what I was looking for, it was too late to turn in. I figured it just wasn’t meant to be. All those years ago, it was a special memory. You can’t go back, they say, so I was ok with not overwriting with a new, and perhaps lesser, memory. I did, however, stop at a gift shop with a banner advertising “Bikers Welcome” Perfect! I’ll get my sticker for my trunk. Yes, I’m a sticker on the luggage kind of gal!

After taking in another viewpoint and rounding the first curve of the other side of the trail, I couldn’t stop the tears. I enjoyed the Trail up to this point, but the views heading west took my breath away. The joy, the awe, and the gratitude for this experience spilled over my cheeks in much the same way they did in Peru. THIS is why you do the Cabot Trail counter clockwise! I felt a little sorry for the fellas for whom I took a group photo at the last view point. They had just come this way, but traveled clockwise and would have had to look over their shoulders to see what I’d just experienced. I hope they had the time to go in the other direction too.

Here are a few of my own pics from the Cabot Trail. I didn’t stop on the west side. I was too busy loving the view from my saddle.

I did manage to find a spot to eat in Cheticamp; L’abri Restaurant et bar. They made a beautiful seafood chowder which I quite enjoyed while looking out over the water.

I took a quinoa salad to have for my supper back at the Aberdeen Motel as there wasn’t a place to eat within walking distance. I slept well at the Aberdeen, but if you’re considering it, just know the pictures online and what you will actually see don’t…match. Still, it was a cheap night and I brought my supper with me sooooo……