Baddeck, NS >> North Sydney, NS 270 miles ridden/10.5 hours
Almost killed myself again today. Really gotta break this habit.
Continuing my custom of driving the posted speed limit in MPH (as opposed to the intended KmPH), I was scaling the twisty seaside cliffs of the Cabot Trail when I reached the summit and encountered what appeared to be a sand and gravel truck’s bout of explosive diarrhea. To make matters worse, this mess was at the crest of a hill where the road also swung to the right.
Every motorcyclist knows that accelerating or braking while leaning into in a sand-covered flat corner almost certainly means the bike’s going down; loose ground cover on an apex is an even worse scenario. But the Cabot Trail still had an ace up its sleeve to make this more treacherous: here, guardrails on this stretch of the road were either an afterthought or considered an extravagant luxury. To avoid dropping the bike and sliding into the ravine opposite, I popped it up straight, locked up both brakes, put my foot down for additional drag and pulled back as hard as I could. If there had been any oncoming traffic, I surely would have been hit and likely killed instantly, and it would have completely and unquestionably been my fault.
However, falling 200’ into a gully also didn’t seem very palatable… Even if I were somehow able to survive the drop, getting out would have been quite a trick and more likely than not, the bike would have to be written off completely.
Stopped apparently by the almighty hand of god, my front tire came to a rest at the edge of the tarmac on the other side of the road, inches from disaster. Thankfully, I also happened to be the only vehicle in the immediate vicinity. (I guess overtaking all those cars has its advantages.) My heart was beating faster than my pistons had been just moments ago, and my head was swimming. My own stupidity had very nearly cost me my life, and quite understandably shaken, I vowed to ride more safely from there on out.
But everyone knows promises are meant to be broken, right?
Now on my best behavior, I continued my counterclockwise trip around Nova Scotia’s Cabot Trail, one of the most fun, scenic seaside roads I’ve ridden (discounting the near-death experience, of course…). Hugging the coast, it offers spectacular views inland and offshore, and provides the adventurous with access to maritime villages like Neils Harbour, Dingwall, and Meat Cove. It takes motorcyclists from sea level to the mountains and back, and through Cape Breton Highlands National park – keep an eye out for moose! – on roads that lunge left and right like a wide receiver running for the end zone, then break into the occasional straightaway and delight with enormous U-turn sweepers thrown in for good measure. This and a trip around the Gaspe Peninsula should be on every rider’s bucket list.
All said and done, my Cabot Trail trip took less time than expected, so instead of staying another night in Nova Scotia, I opted for the 3am ferry to Channel-Port aux Basques, Newfoundland. At least that way I don’t have to pay for a campsite tonight – I’ll crash on the ferry instead.
Tomorrow I’ll ride to Blow Me Down Provincial Park (who could resist a place with such a name?), figure out the trip to Labrador and rest. Right now it’s just past 9p and the woman at the ticket booth for the ferry said most people show up after midnight. There’s a bike in line for the ferry with New Hampshire plates, and the bike is so new the plates are temporary. (Turns out the rider is a Canadian who flew to the Granite State to buy his motorcycle because it’s significantly cheaper to do that than purchase one in Canada.)
I don’t have a drive time estimate to the campground from where we dock; hopefully it’s not too far. Some storm is supposed to come in this weekend. Be good to get to Labrador and back before that.
Too much to write. It’d be so much easier with someone else to share stories with. Ewan McGregor had the right idea of keeping a video diary and turning transcripts of those daily debriefs into his books.