Nova Scotia's Highland Park

Crossed over the border from N.B to N.S. and expected a welcome sign outlining that I was now in the land of milk and honey, whisky and wine, Scots and Gaelic, rugged coast and pastoral lands, and trees. Iridescent green forests spotted with red maples blanket the landscape as far as the eye can see. Great Herrings step gingerly through reeds to pluck their prey as sea weed form patterns on the ocean floor in low tide. Battered ships longing for the open sea rest in dry docks not knowing their destiny. And, I max out at 57 km an hour not wanting to miss anything on highway 134, a tertiary road. Reaching Pictou, and the Hector Ship, my lesson of the Birthplace of New Scotland commenced reading a rock outlining that in 1773, 200 Scots came to the new frontier.

Antigonish, Am Baile Mór, in Gaelic, host the oldest highlands games outside of Scotland and home of St. Francis Xavier University, which bursts the town population from 4000, to 10,000 with wild hormonally active 18 – 24 year olds, sensory overload. The coastal towns gave way to lush forests rolling upwards to the island Highlands and my passage to Cape Breton. I reached Mabou by 4:00 pm. and exhaustion was upon me. I looked in at the Red Shoe restaurant/café and noted their line-up of entertainers for the evening. The tent was up, friends were made and my ears perked up listening to local fiddlers, step dancing, guitar and the most eccentric 80 year old man playing spoons off his thighs, shins, forearms, and biceps, off beat, on beat and everything in between.

The next day Inverness treated me to beachside board walks along a linked golf course. And, a new 25 ft. ceiling café called Down Street Café. Marvelous plush beige couches, black walks with chalk designs furnished with orange, and white tables and black chairs…..the coffee seeped into my pores for 2 hours.

A hike, 1 of 8, I did over the next 4 days awaited me that afternoon. I had heard and was spooked by the girl from Vancouver that was killed by coyotes 2 years ago. The folklore grew larger as it headed westward as does the size of their coyotes Hal reminded me. I stayed on major walking paths for the afternoon viewing old settlements of the Acadians, hiding not only from the Loyalists, but the local government that evicted them to create the Highlands National Park. Can they get a break anywhere?

I went into town to listen to more fiddling, keyboarding and Gaelic singing at a fish restaurant. Never had so many salads in 5 nights. The following morning I nestled up to 38 local hikers doing the Highland Hiking Challenge, 10 days of hikes throughout the Park and region. It was great, as the heavily forested area was the perfect place to see my first black bear. Steep hills were always rewarded by captivating scenery of Cheticamp and area. That afternoon we did another 2 hikes, in the area. The Skyline trail, probably the most popular hike in the park has a loop. Most people choose to do the same well warn route in and out. I chose the path less travelled and headed westward on the route back. Within minutes I heard a noise, sounded like a male having difficulties relieving himself. I backed away down the trail and 3 meters in front of me was a mammoth moose. I froze, it sauntered across the path, swaying with an uneven gait. The hind leg had a saucer size gaping wound. It stood about 3 meters into the trees, as did I and captured 10 shots of its rump and rack.
With the finding of one of Shakelton’s ship perhaps Harper can now return some of the money it took from the National Park. It is in desperate need of upgrades, many of the scenic campgrounds are closed and those open don’t cut the mustard. Clear skies were upon us tonight and that meant stars, heaps of them, gleaming down for our glory. With an interpreter next door to me, a group of campers were being taught about our universe, the truths, myths and wonderments.