Summer Has Arrived in Cape Breton!

 

Outdoor Adventures, Sunburns and Bug Bites 

Enjoying some Hiking in the first Days of Summer Before it gets too Hot

Summer is finally here on Cape Breton Island but it's still cool enough to enjoy a few hikes before it gets too hot and my outings turn into lazy beach days swimming in the cool Atlantic Ocean rather than days trekking through the woods in the hot sun. 

Hiking in the summer is doable but the combination of heat, sun and bugs can make it unbearable at times.  I prefer to save my big hikes for the late spring and fall.  Recently I embarked on two amazing hikes; one to a location I had never hiked before and the other to a location I haven't hiked in many years and have been longing to get back to.

But First, Lunch

The first hike was supposed to be to the place that I had been before but that day turned out to be too windy for a coastal hike.  I met my friend in the parking lot of the church in Grand River, Richmond County.  Past Gabarus, Forchu and Framboise but before Point Michaud and St. Peter's for those of you are vaguely familiar with the area.  For those of you who aren't, it's in southern part of Cape Breton Island in an area off-the-beaten-tourist-path. 

We turned onto a remote gravel road and parked by a very old farmhouse because it looked like a nice spot to have our lunch before heading out on the hike. We sat near the weather-worn steps of the old homestead.  

The house had to be close to 150 years old. I doubt anyone has been inside since the family packed up and vacated it many, many moons ago, no doubt for better employment opportunities in a big city somewhere in New England, Ontario or western Canada. Perhaps their grandchildren and great-grand-children don't even know the old property still exists.  The treasures they would find within!  A part of their heritage if only they knew about it! After tea and sandwiches, we walked around the old property and found some interesting old farming equipment and some things we weren't quite sure what they were. 

 

Exploring a New-to-me Trail

The trailhead for the hike of the day was only a short distance up this gravel road.  We parked and hiked into the forest.  I had no idea how long the trail was and there really wasn't any point in asking my friend because every trail is "just a short one" even if it's 10 or 20 kilometers long. I was ok with that.  I had nowhere to be, I had nothing planned for that evening and I was just itching to spend a day in the woods.  After the long winter and the stress of the pandemic, this was long overdue! I didn't care if it took two hours or 20 hours, I was game. 

We walked. And walked some more. All the while catching up on gossip and what has been going on in our lives since we last embarked on a hike the previous fall.  The weather was ideal for hiking.  Warm enough to not need a jacket and cool enough to be comfortable. There was a lovely, steady breeze that kept the flies at bay and the odd light rain shower which were welcome refreshments. 

Finding Paradise By A Lake

Eventually we arrived at a lake where we thought we would sit and enjoy a cold beer. There was nowhere comfortable to sit and the flies were bad near the water so we moved on to the next one.  The next lake was perfect!  There was a little shelter with some seats and a nice breeze that kept the flies away.  

There was a slight but constant ripple on the lake and a haze that the sun's rays just barely poked through.  The trees rustled in that gentle breeze and the sound lulled me into a relaxed state.  The beer also helped. The stillness of the world around me in that moment was so peaceful and the sounds were like the ones you hear on those relaxing yoga soundtracks that city dwellers meditate to after spending 2 hours in rush hour city traffic after a long day at work...but this was the real thing . 

There was no sign of the owners of the nearby boat ramp or the little shelter we were occupying. I'm sure if they magically appeared, they wouldn't mind two women sitting down for a cold one. Around here, they'd probably pull out a chair, start a fire, take out some guitars and invite us to stick around for some more.  But, we were fine just the way we were and for about an hour, we just sat there and took in as much of those sights and sounds as we could. 

We walked for a few more kilometers before reaching an old building perched up high on an embankment.  If we weren't really looking at everything so intently, we might have missed it.  It was dark-coloured and tucked behind some big trees. My friend tried to access it from one end and found a way in.  I went to the other side to check it out but got stuck in some trees and couldn't go any further.  It seemed to be some sort of old workshop.  Like, really old.  Perhaps over 100 years old. I'm not too keen on entering old buildings like that.  I'm always afraid they floor will give out!  I passed on the opportunity to go inside.  

 

The Home Stretch

We reached the third lake on this hike and took a little break before finishing the last leg of the trail. It was after 6 in the evening when we got back to the car.  The flies were just starting to bite and a heavy rain shower was moving in.  Just in time.  

We parted ways but headed in the same direction.  Instead of leaving the way I came, I took the long way home and made a detour through St. Peter's where I grabbed a Tim's coffee and took my time driving home along the Bras d'Or Lakes. Midway home, I started feeling a burning sensation in my shoulders and my skin was hot to touch.  I pulled over to inspect my "injuries". Sunburn. Great. My advice to you: wear sunscreen when hiking even if it's cloudy and drizzly!

 

The Foggy Coast

With four distinct seasons on Cape Breton Island, adverse weather is to be expected from time-to-time and fog is one of those adverse weather conditions that we have to deal with sometimes.  Well, maybe fog isn't all that bad; after all, you can get some pretty interesting photos in foggy conditions and it can be a welcome sign after a day of extremely hot conditions. You are most likely to experience fog in the early morning and near the coast.  The south coast of the island from Gabarus to Point Michaud experiences the most fog.  When I seek refuse from the heat, I head to this coast where the temperatures are much cooler, even in summer.

A foggy day at Crooked Lake Beach on the South Coast of Cape Breton Island.  I'm always the only person on this beach whenever I go there. Just the way I like my beaches...deserted!

A Hike Along the Remote and Rocky Shores of Fourchu - A Colourful Beach and a Deserted Island

I do a bit of hiking in the Summer but , for the most part, the weather is too hot or I'm just too busy to do any long trails. The fall is when I try to do the bulk of my hiking throughout the year. It's not too hot, it's not too cold and my schedule tends to be less hectic.

One of the first real hikes I did this fall was in Forchu along the southern coast of Cape Breton Island. It was a bit cold, windy and damp the day I set out on this trail but I dressed warm and headed out, determined to complete it from start to finish without letting the weather deter me. I often hike alone, especially since I moved back to Cape Breton but I've been meeting more people who have the same interests as me and more often than not lately, I have company on the trails as I did on this day.
I'd been to the Forchu area many times before but never hiked in the area so the idea of hiking a new trail was exciting for me....except this trail wasn't exactly a trail; It was a rugged coastal path that wasn't worn in enough to be able to actually see any path. Fortunately, we had someone with us who knew the area well and was able to guide us safely along the rugged coastline.


The hike started out easy and got a bit more difficult as we moved further along the beach and remote area of coastline. The air was chilly and windy but in a refreshing way. With all the hard walking I was doing, that chilly air combined with a light spray coming off the cold Atlantic provided welcome relief.

The first thing I noticed about that beach was how colourful it was. I'm referring to the rocks. Millions of rocks each one different. yes, I know most beaches have millions of unique rocks but there was something more rich and vibrant about the rocks on this beach that made it stick out from any other rocky beach I'd ever seen.


We were walking for quite a while when I decided to inquire exactly how long of a hike we were embarking on. The only person familiar with it pointed ahead and said "see that point. It's well beyond that". That point looked like it was a hundred miles away! Not that I minded. I love long hikes, especially coastal ones with scenery like this one. There was so much to look at. Seals bobbing in the rough surf, boats passing by on the distant horizon, deep forest lining the shoreline, various beach "treasures" that were washed ashore in storms. There was a smell too. A smell that is common along the seashore in fall. Rotting seaweed. Yes, to some, that may sound like the most unappealing smell in the world but I know I'm close to the sea when that smell fills my nostrils and as long as I'm by the sea, I don't care if the seaweed smells bad.

We walked for quite a long time before we reached that bend and I was finally able to see exactly how far we were going to go....and it was far. There was a possibility if the tide had been too high, we would have to turn back but since it was low, we pressed on toward our goal - the small island attached to the beach by a causeway that is fully exposed during low tide but submerged underwater during high tide.

As we inched closer to that island, the wind picked up ever so slightly and the ocean spray began to sting my face a little. I started to walk with my head tilted more towards the ground and that is when I noticed there was a lot of dog footprints in the sand. I wondered why a dog would be all the way out here on this remote beach and there were no human footprints accompanying the prints. And that is when it dawned on me that these weren't dog footprints at all, they were coyote prints. Good thing I brought my big walking stick and bear spray with me because these prints looked fresh.


It's hard to believe that the wide causeway leading out to the island had been submerged under a few feet of water only hours before. We were able to walk straight out to the island and climb right to the very top and look out at the wonderful view around us. Of course, because it was a deserted island in the middle of nowhere surrounded by beautiful scenery, it was also the perfect place to have a picnic. A small field on the side that was sheltered and out of the wind did the trick.
The walk back was much colder as we were walking into the wind. It seemed to take forever to get back to the car. Not that I like to rush my hikes but my hands were so cold, I couldn't feel them! But like always, they regained their colour soon after I reached the car and I was able to move them enough to grasp the cold steering wheel to begin the long drive home along that country road that by that time was encompassed in the soft glow of a setting sun and impending twilight. Another day, another trail knocked off that list.

Me at the very top of the little island...what a view!

My Journey Through Costa Rica - Getting There was Half the Battle

I’m back now from an incredible trip in Costa Rica…Well, actually, I’ve been back from the trip for a while but I was unable to blog about this travel until recently. 

So, to start...where is Costa Rica?  Costa Rica is in Central America between the countries of Nicaragua and Panama.  When researching Costa Rica travel, the pictures and descriptions of wild beaches and rainforests intriqued me enough to look into it some more.

Being the savvy trip planner that I am, I learned as much as I could about the country and the more I read and the more I learned, I realized that Costa Rica must be a very special place because I couldn't find any bad Trip advisor reviews or any bad press.  Now having been to Costa Rica, I realize that those reviews were inaccurate....my journey through this beautiful country was more than I could ever have expected.....and yes I mean that in a very, very good way!

First of all, I need to say that there were hardly any hitches and hardly anything went wrong during this trip. I have to brag about that so all the people who thought I was putting myself in danger for traveling alone can see that I've returned from my trip in one piece.  I was sunburned, bruised (from surfing) and covered in bug bites but otherwise fine. 

The only negative experiences I had during this trip were getting to Costa Rica and getting back home but that is to be expected when dealing with airports and flights. I arrived in Halifax via the one shittle service that could get me to Halifax in time to catch my flight without having to sleep in the airport overnight. 

My issues began in Halifax and continued onward through Toronto, Houston and onto San Jose. Things got off to a bad start during check-in in Halifax when I had the unfortunate experience of dealing with a very rude ticket agent. Of course, my tongue acted quicker than my brain and well, lets just say I was convinced my luggage would end up in China instead of its intended destination. Toronto Pearson International or Hell as I like to call it was my next stop. I’ve never had a good experience at this airport and this time was no exception. 

As usual, Pearson International failed to live up to the standards one would expect from such a large, international airport and again made me feel a little embarrassed to be from Canada knowing that most people traveling from other countries to Canada have to go through that disgrace of an airport. Let’s see, where do I begin? I needed help finding my connecting flight and, as anyone who has been through this airport knows, signage is very poor to non-existent. Almost everyone I tried to get directions from couldn’t speak English and the few people who could either had no idea where to send me or sent me in the wrong direction. 

 I finally made it to my gate after running through two terminals only to discover that my gate had been changed and I was sent running again and just made it in time for boarding. Now onto George Bush Intercontinental in Houston and a long 11-hour layover in an airport almost as bad as Pearson. 

When I first booked my flight, I thought “hey, I’ve never been to Houston, TX before so maybe I can hire a taxi driver to give me the grand tour while I wait for the next leg of my journey”. This was not to be. In the past, I was able to get tours of various cities by taxi but none were willing to do so in Houston, which meant one long, boring night of people-watching and counting ceiling tiles. I couldn’t even grab a Starbucks latte because everything was closed by the time I went through immigration and baggage claim, which was around 9pm. I was hoping to at least have something to eat when I arrived but everything was closed so early which meant my long, boring night was also marred by hunger and thirst. 

On the plus side, my luggage made it that far and was not “accidentally” put on a plane to China. I’d like to say I was able to sleep during my 11 hours in Houston Airport but all I did was wander around aimlessly looking for a comfortable place to rest, which was not to be found. The most comfortable place to sleep in the whole airport was the couch behind Starbucks in Terminal A and every time someone got up from that couch, someone was right there to take their place. I didn’t have the energy to even try to be one of those lucky people who had comfortable-looking naps on that couch before catching their next flight.

I was in no mood to deal with any delays or airport mishaps the next morning when it was time to find and board my plane. But, of course, air travel would not be true air travel if it didn’t come with its issues. Once again, I found myself in a state of confusion. I was told by an airport employee that my next flight would be departing terminal A so that is where I remained for most of the night. 

When it came close to check-in time, I looked at the screens to see if my flight was on time and couldn’t find it and, of course, panicked. After asking several dozen airport employees why my flight was not listed, one finally gave me the answer “ma’am, I think you are supposed to be in terminal D and you need to take the train to get there”. With time running out to clear security and get to my gate, “I think” had to suffice. And off I went, running again to catch a train and a flight. 

I didn’t realize how big Houston airport was until I was forced to make the journey from Terminal A to Terminal D. Fortunately it was the right terminal and I boarded my plane with only a few minutes to spare. No need to go into detail about the next 3.5 hours of my life I will never get back, you know the drill; cramped seats, broken TV’s, screaming babies, ignorant seat-mates taking up both armrests, horrible food and inconsiderate passengers with oversized carry-ons resulting in my small carry-on being stowed 20 rows behind me. You would think that for the amount of money you pay for an airline ticket these days, you would be reimbursed for lack of service but instead they gouge flyers in every which way they can. I paid 900 dollars for my return flight but in order to even watch a movie or have a glass of juice, they wanted me to swipe my credit card and pay even more money!

I’d like to say I was relieved to finally land at my final destination but I had to endure more airport nuisances before I could finally get to my hotel and some much needed sleep. After a long line-up at immigration, requests to fill out customer satisfaction surveys (which I did because I’m a sucker for those things) and another long wait for my luggage, I finally made it outdoors into a large crowd of waiting taxi drivers yelling “taxi, lady”. I was still dressed in a sweater and jeans when the sweltering heat of tropical San Jose hit me and I had to move away from the aggressive crowd of taxi drivers vying for my business and take a seat somewhere to the side where I could try to remember which cabs I was told were the most reliable – the red ones or the orange ones? Or was it yellow? I couldn’t remember but the heat and lack of sleep was getting to me so I just jumped into the next cab that came along. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at the Wyndham Herradura and, of course, my room was not ready and wouldn’t be ready for another two hours. When I was finally able to enter my room, I immediately went to bed in order to be rested up for the beginning of my Costa Rica adventure the next morning.

On all of my other international trips, my cell phone always, upon arrival, updated to the current local time. Before I went to sleep my first night in San Jose, Costa Rica, I set my alarm for 6am so I would have enough time to shower and grab some breakfast before hitting the road. I was awake, showered, fed and ready to catch my bus before I realized I had woken up an hour earlier than intended. My cell only registered a two hour time difference instead of the three hour time difference from home. A really small and insignificant thing considering the rest of my time in the country went without incident. Everything was perfect. The Weather Network was predicting rain for more than a week straight for the Nicoya Peninsula; The sun was splitting rocks the entire time I was there! The food, the people, the shopping, the accommodations, the scenery…everything was better than I imagined it would be. And so began my two week journey through Costa Rica and a journey I will not soon forget.