Driving Canada's Highlands: Part 1

Another one of my look-backwards posts, reliving

 past travel adventures in various places.
After my recent cruise around the Maritimes, I decided
that I wanted to share my adventures on the Cabot Trail.

This is Part 1 of 2 parts.

A foreigner or visiting alien could easily be excused for thinking that North Americans were seized with an uncontrollable urge to climb.  All over the continent, during the 1930s, engineers and massive crowds of workers were designing and building highways to heaven, paved roads that took motorists up to the summits of the highest mountains.

Of course, there’s always some other angle to the story.  These were the years of the Great Depression, when nationwide unemployment rates often exceeded 20% or even 25%, and all this scenic road construction was a useful make-work project to employ more men.

Unlike some of the more practical highways that would come later, these were not designed as fast links between different communities.  They were purely for scenic enjoyment, to bring people in the Age of the Automobile into closer proximity with the sublime in nature.

Sometimes the roads went right up a single mountain (Pikes Peak, Mount Washington, Whiteface Mountain, Mount Revelstoke – to name a few).  In other cases, the road followed along a ridge line of a range of mountains giving a parade of spectacular views (Blue Ridge Parkway, Trail Ridge Road) or along a chain of valleys walled in by spectacular mountains (Icefields Parkway).

I’ve been fortunate enough to drive a number of those scenic roads through the years, and enjoyed them all.  Now, inspired by my recent cruise around the Maritimes, I want to share my experiences in years gone by with one of the fairest of them all: the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.

 

What triggered the urge to write this was the sight of fellow passengers on my cruise taking a coach tour from Sydney to the Cabot Trail.  They would get as far up the east side of the island as the resort community of Ingonish, and while they would see some lovely country along the way they would miss many of the Trail’s most spectacular scenic glories. 

While it is possible to go right around the entire circuit and back to Sydney in a single day, it makes for a long day indeed – and you can miss almost as much as you see.  I recommend at least a two-day circuit, and here I will give you a couple of tips for how best to organize the trip.

By the way, the pictures in this two-part post come mostly from a trip around the Trail which I took in two days in 2005, with sunny weather all the way on day 1, but clouds and a few showers on day 2.  Unpredictable weather is the name of the game, just as it is in the Highlands and Islands of Western Scotland

First question: which direction to go around?  If you are at all edgy, nervous, or squeamish about driving on steep, twisting hills, I recommend that you go around clockwise.  Simple reason: on all the worst hills, you will be on the side of the road closest to the rising hill and farthest from the edge that falls away!

That mattered a lot on my first trip around the Trail in 1984.  The steep, twisting stretch of road up and over Cape Smoky was being repaved that summer (or maybe paved for the first time, for all I know), and driving on that gravel was quite an experience.  The road was narrow, and got narrower on a few of the hairpin bends, and there were no fences or guardrails on the edges.  I was very grateful to be on the inside that day!  Now, it’s all beautifully paved with paved shoulders, and guardrails everywhere.

Starting from Sydney, you follow the provincial Route 125 around the head end of Sydney Harbour to North Sydney, where you pick up Route 105, the Trans-Canada Highway, heading west.  The first awesome scenic sight comes when you cross the Seal Island Bridge over the Bras d’Or Lake, and then climb the long (but fast) hill up Kelly’s Mountain (Map # 1).  If the weather is clear, stop at the viewpoint near the top to look back down on the bridge. 



Then, across the summit, stop again for the view on the other (north) side, featuring a huge barachois (a natural spit of sand and rocks) which looks exactly as if some engineer were building a giant causeway across the narrows at Englishtown. 

However, that’s for the return trip.  You continue west on Route 105 down the hill and all the way to the lakeside town of Baddeck.  Baddeck was chosen as the place for his summer home by Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone.  In the town there is a fine museum devoted to Bell’s life and career.  (Map # 2)

Take some time to visit it, and you’ll become aware that here was a true Renaissance man – the sort of man whose mind is always questioning whatever it experiences, and then trying to find the answers to the questions.  The telephone was only one of many inventive lines of inquiry that Bell pursued throughout his long life. 

After the museum, continue west just a few more minutes and look for signs on the right indicating the Cabot Trail to Margaree Harbour (Exit 7).  Turn right and get ready for bumps.  This stretch of the road is often not as well maintained as it might be.  You climb up and over Hunters Mountain.  This is not especially steep or winding, nor is there any particular viewpoint.  Think of Hunters Mountain as your audition, or perhaps you could call it your first rehearsal.

The road continues downhill to the north into a valley occupied by the Third Lake O’Law, then the Second, and finally the First.  Look for a provincial picnic park on your right at the First Lake O'Law, and stop for a few minutes.  You’ll get a lovely view of the lake that you won’t see from the road, and if you’ve ever been in the Scottish Highlands, the resemblance (apart from the lush forest) is unmistakable.  (Map # 3) 

Continue north down the valley to the village of Margaree Harbour.  After you cross the Margaree River, there’s a major cultural shift in store as you enter the village of Belle-Côte.  Welcome to the terre des Acadiens – the homeland of survivors of the great expulsion in 1755.  The people here are descendents of those who eventually made their way back to Atlantic Canada, but to Cape Breton and New Brunswick rather than to their former homeland in the Annapolis Valley.

Suddenly, you’re surrounded by French names of places, businesses, and roads.  Stop for a visit and you’ll meet friendly people whose first language is their own Acadian French, a dialect not precisely like either the French of France or the French of Quebec.

The land has changed too.  You’re travelling over a hummocky plain edged by the Gulf of St. Lawrence, mostly covered in grassland, which is heavily eroded and shaped by wind and water.  The Cape Breton Highlands still loom away off to your right, but for now you’re in another world.

A half-hour or so after crossing the Margaree River, you come to the town of Cheticamp, the largest community of this Acadian region.  Here there are multiple restaurants, guesthouses, motels, and other tourist services. (Map # 4) I’ve had a wonderful stay at Auberge Doucet, and heartily recommend it – for both the modern, comfortable rooms and the excellent breakfast on offer. 

However, if you must stick to brand names for breakfast, there is a Tim Hortons right on the main street. Cheticamp is an excellent place to stop for the night, because it’s the largest town in the region, and the last town before you enter the Cape Breton Highlands National Park and begin hill-climbing in earnest.  Best to be well rested!  It’s also a fishing port, and if you are lucky to arrive in season you can feast on fresh-off-the-boat snow crab.

Don’t be in a huge rush to hit the road the next day; sometimes there is a lot of early fog.  Plan to go by 9:00 am or so and you should be fine.  And be aware that you will be driving very slowly for much of the distance -- for various reasons.  You’ll stop at the entrance to the park to pay for your visitor’s permit, and then continue north along the Cabot Trail.

This is the classic Cape Breton landscape familiar from a thousand travel brochures and ads.  The road swoops up and down two big hills in succession.  There are multiple pull-out areas on the left side and you should take advantage of each one to view the changing landscape as you go.  Otherwise you might miss such sights as La Grande Falaise ("The Great Cliff") or Pillar Rocks.

 

At the bottom of the second big descent you cross Corney Brook and then encounter a roadside sign with a message which looks a little absurd at first glance.

 

However, it makes sense when you realize that the massive headland looming ahead is named after a man whose last name was "French".  The sign is not meant as a linguistic absurdity!  (Map # 5)

As you climb higher on French Mountain, the road eventually turns away from the shore and follows a narrowing creek valley all the way to the summit.  No doubt some visitors are very surprised that there isn’t another side of the mountain!  The Cape Breton Highlands are actually a single large plateau, with the edges all carved and eroded into scenic headlands and promontories by weathering and by rivers draining from the top.  Here's an aerial view (not mine) of French Mountain and the coast back towards Cheticamp which makes the point clear.

Near the crest of French Mountain, stop for this view back down towards the ocean, now well over 400 metres below you.
 

The road continues for some 20 kilometres across the plateau.  No doubt you’ll notice the stunted trees.  The weather up here can get pretty fierce in all seasons, without warning, and even in summer you should bring clothing suitable for cold and wet weather.  I've encountered temperatures of only 3 or 4 degrees Celsius (i.e. in the 30s in Fahrenheit) in July.

A sign along the plateau indicates the Bog Walk.  Don’t pass up on this.  You’ll learn some startling and fascinating things about the chain of life in this desolate and apparently unfriendly environment.  The twisted trees clearly illustrate that life is a struggle for survival here. 



You will certainly see the insect-eating pitcher plants, and with any luck you may even catch one in the act of dining. 



You may also see moose.  As with any National Park, explanatory signs and placards provide all kinds of information.  (Map # 6)
 

A few minutes' drive beyond the Bog Walk you'll drive along a narrow ridge which falls off into valleys on both sides.  This is called the Boar's Back.  Only a little way farther and you start to see yellow warning signs of a steep hill ahead.  Pay attention!  You’re about to drive back down off the plateau, and the really important sign is the one that warns you to put your vehicle into low gear and let the engine control your descent.  They’re not kidding.  I once drove down this snaky hill (called MacKenzie Mountain) behind a Mercedes whose driver didn’t heed the signs, and by the time we got to the bottom that car’s brakes were visibly smoking.  I could smell them burning for half the descent. 

By all means enjoy all the viewpoints of the northward coast as you come down that twisting and steep hill – because the road won’t take you that way.  (Map # 7)  Those northward headlands look even more formidable than the ones you've already climbed!

 

 

 

This is about as far north as we get.  The little settlement at the bottom of MacKenzie Mountain lives up to its name of Pleasant Bay, but I doubt that the sole garage there stocks brake parts for cars like a Mercedes! 

 

(The story continues in Part 2)