Maritime Canada, Part 3 - Halifax to LaHave, Nova Scotia

   We were happy to have some sunshine on our way to the South Shore area of Nova Scotia. On the way out of the city, we made a quick stop at the 100-foot tall Dingle Tower. The structure was donated to the city by Sir Sanford Fleming, who was builder of the Canadian Intercolonial Railway but is most famous as the man who introduced standard time to North America. After a rigorous climb up the stairs, we were treated to a great view from Melville Cove out the Northwest Arm of Halifax Harbour.

   Our plan was to take a hike along the rocky coastline from Polly’s Cove to Peggy’s Cove, a very well-known fishing village with a picturesque lighthouse. Unfortunately, the area became “socked-in”, as they say, with visibility at only about 100 feet. It was apparent, as our scenic drive to the coves was pretty much ruined, that the hike was going to be pointless, but we stopped to see the lighthouse just because everyone else seemed so hyped-up about it.

   Sue was tremendously disappointed not to be able to do the hike, and two days of misty weather in a row were similarly dampening her spirits. As we strolled into the visitors’ center, she sarcastically commented on checking out their brochures to “see what we were missing”. I spied a guest book on the counter, and when Sue wasn’t looking, I jotted down a special entry under the columns NAME, HOME and COMMENTS. I said to my wife, “Look – someone else from Royersford signed it!”

   She laughed out loud after reading, “Grumpy Sue, Royersford, PA, FOGGY!” I was a bit surprised how much my little joke lifted her spirits, and I knew she was snapping out of it when she noticed the parking lot filling up and helpfully waved to a fellow traveler in an SUV to let them know we were vacating our parking spot. She plopped down in her seat and said, “I guess writing effin’ foggy would have been too much?”

What we missed at Peggy's Cove

   Amazingly, as we drove back inland from the peninsula, the skies turned bright blue and the sun started shining. We think the warm, moist air over the cooler water was the main factor, as we could still see a bank of low clouds off to the east, hanging over the coast.

   The weather was cooperating nicely when we reached the town of Lunenberg, an UNESCO World Heritage Site as the best example of British-planned colonial settlement in North America. Thankfully, it is still fairly easily to overlook the requisite tourist traps and enjoy the incredibly colorful waterfront architecture, narrow streets and seafaring culture.

   Unfortunately, the fog returned for our drive out along Crescent Beach to our place in the LeHave Islands, specifically Bush Island. Maybe because the water is a bit warmer behind the shelter of the islands, there was no fog here. The sun was intense and hot, but there was a wonderfully cool breeze.

   As we neared the address Sue pointed to the left at a shabby red shack of about 20 x 20 feet and said, “There it is.” After seeing the discomfort in my expression and laughing at the effect her little joke had on me, she pointed to the next house down the road.

   We were at first thrown by how warm the cabin was inside, since the owner had just gone inside to open some windows, but we were pleased to find that it had a very similar feel to the place at which we’ve vacationed a couple of times on Lake Cayuga, in New York. The big plus to the property was that the water was just a hundred yards away – perfect for launching the kayaks out into the inlet called False LeHave.

   The next morning we planned to bicycle about nine miles into downtown LaHave and take the ferry (free to pedestrians/cyclists) across the river. The roads around here aren’t exactly flat, as they roll up and down along the rocky shoreline, but they certainly aren’t as challenging as the hilly terrain around our hometown. I wouldn’t dare use a condescending phrase like “even for Sue”, because on her occasional bike commute to work she rides up some nasty hills I regularly avoid - and that’s with a machine, when it is loaded up with her school stuff, weighs easily twice as much as the Colnago trail bike she is riding on our trip! I’ll just say, we made quick work of the ride to LaHave.

   Sue isn’t really a big fan of putting in major miles during her rides, so she did a little bit with me on the north bank, then rode back to the ferry for a return trip by herself. I continued on about eleven miles up the river toward the town of Bridgewater. The wind was consistently blowing 10-15 mph at my back, giving a nice boost as I weaved along the shoreline.

   I was very surprised by the sound of another cyclist coming up behind me, and a cheerful mustachioed young man in the kit of a local team swung by me on a nice looking Specialized racing bike. “The wind feels great now,” he said, “but it is going to suck heading up the other side of the river!”

   “Yep it is,” I replied. I don’t normally like anyone blowing by me like he did, especially when I think I’m going at a good speed, so I pushed it a bit to see if maybe I could catch up, at least to slow him with a little conversation. The thought quickly came to mind that he saw the University of Maryland jersey I was wearing and thought I was a tourist, and I just couldn’t have that!

   He was slowly coming back towards me on the climbs. “He is messing with someone who regularly trains in the Schuylkill Valley – we have hills, and these are nothing,” I thought. Then I realized, as he pulled away again, that with the 1x10 currently on my Bianchi, I just didn’t have a large enough front ring to catch him on the flats and slight descents. I was hoping for an intersection or traffic light that would hold him up, but they never came.

   This guy had at least twenty years on me, why was I bothering? If he had any cycling experience, he would have noticed the center-pull brakes and wider tires as he came up from behind. He would have recognized a cyclocross bicycle and probably would have known that, no matter my age or capabilities, I was going to have a really hard time keeping up with his (probably) carbon fiber bike with 23 mm tires.

   Besides, he was only providing friendly chatter – he didn’t really know if I was even following the same route he was. It wasn’t a semi-condescending comment, such as “Hey, you were going at a nice pace!” or, like some chick at Sue’s race said, “Wow, that’s an old-school triathlon bike!”

   It shouldn’t have taken me five miles to figure out that I wasn’t going to catch him, and at the rate I was travelling, I was going to be wiped out by the time I reached Bridgewater – and I would still have 18 miles to go. The ride became much more enjoyable at a moderate speed, allowing me to cool down considerably and appreciate the scenery.

...and on the way back, that wind did suck!