Bday Trip 2018 – Getting to Cape Breton

I woke up in my hotel room in Toronto after the previous hellacious day, hopeful that I might actually make it to Halifax this time. After grabbing a shower and verifying that yes indeed the flight was listed as On Time (but knowing that this never reflected reality for Air Canada), I took the shuttle back to the airport. I was by now well versed on the Canadian airport security process and so was able to get airside with a minimum of fuss.

It had been quite some time since I was last airside in Pearson Airport and was impressed with how bright and modern it is. I spent time at a shop contemplating the various candy bar options, discovering to my delight that there is a king-sized Rollo option that is not available in the United States (which is probably a good thing because while I hesitate to walk around with my hand shoved into the large group-sharing size bag of Rollos, a king-sized one packaged as a single serving would inspire no such shame). Sufficiently fortified with caramel and chocolate, I made my way to sit at the gate, nervously eyeing the departure board and worrying that despite the perfect weather in Toronto, another delay would flash on the screen. When they finally announced boarding, I was relieved that it appeared that I would actually set foot in Halifax at some point today.

The flight from Toronto to Halifax is scheduled for two hours, although there is an additional time change as the Maritimes are on Atlantic Daylight Time, one hour ahead of Eastern. Descending into the Halifax airport, I had my nose pressed to the window. It looked to me that we were about to land in the middle of an enchanted forest. There were so many trees and small lakes scattered about. It was beautiful and very different from the typical surroundings of an international airport. Wheels down, we parked at a gate and I made my way quickly to the baggage claim to see if my suitcase made the journey with me. You can scarcely imagine my delight to see my purple monster pop out and make its winding way towards me. I’m sure it will come as no surprise that my suitcase has a name (and if it does surprise you, you need to read some of my other travel blog posts because I name everything) and I whispered a fond hello as I hauled him off the carousel.

So before Air Canada decided to cheat me out of a day spent in Halifax, I had a reservation to pick up a rental car this morning downtown. However yesterday, with the significant delay in my arrival, I realized that I really needed to not waste any more time taking a bus or taxi for 45 minutes downtown, doing the car rental paperwork, and then driving back up towards the airport for another 45 minutes to finally get on my way to Cape Breton Island – adding at least 2.5-3 hours to a 5-hour drive to begin with. So yesterday, while hyperventilating at LaGuardia, I asked my husband to go on Costco.com to price out rental car options from the airport instead (Costco being consistently the single best car rental portal I’ve found, yet another reason why I love Costco so much). He is far less price-sensitive than I am and blithely reserved me a car a few levels up from the economy class I originally reserved. (This is good because my back was still twinge-y and I probably would have really injured myself in an econo-box car for a week. I am terrible about spending money on myself for things that feel frivolous, like a nicer rental car.) At the desk, the agent told me that they didn’t have any more cars in my reserved class but if I took a seat for moment, they would track down a car for me.

I went and sat and thought about how really awful this Canadian part of the trip had been going so far and bemoaning the fact that the travel gods were so irrationally angry with me. I listened to a woman with a luggage cart piled higher than my head with bags complain that she’d been waiting for 25 minutes already for a car. A few minutes later, another representative came over, asked me how much luggage I had and ascertained I was solo with one bag before asking me to follow her. Which really set off the woman moving all of her earthly goods and when they told her that they were still trying to track down a car that could safely contain all of her luggage, the woman’s eyes just about popped out of her head. I wanted to smirk and lecture her on the joys of traveling lightly but figured I wouldn’t poke the bear.

Out in the garage, I was told to follow the woman into the little shack while she completed my paperwork. Then, with a bright smile, she told me that because they didn’t have any more premium cars, I was upgraded… and she motioned out the window to the vehicle parked directly behind. Fearing the worst (minivan? full size van? ginormous Tahoe? pickup truck?) I turned and laid eyes on a bright-ass orange Mustang GT convertible. I practically wept tears of joy at that point. I turned back to the woman, thanking her and telling her the story of my long incarceration at LaGuardia yesterday, the unexpected overnight in Toronto, the fact that my birthday was Sunday and the year was starting out so horribly, and then – my dad retired from Ford and he passed away about a month ago… he would have been delighted that I got a Ford for rental car, let alone a Mustang GT convertible, which had been my dream car since I was 4 (I neglected to tell her I have one at home). She got tears in her eyes and came around the desk to give me a brief hug. She handed over the keys and told me to have a fabulous time. I went out, loaded up my suitcase into the trunk, took a few photos to brag, I mean share the good news with my hubby, and made my way out of the airport with the top down and my hair whipping my face. Suddenly, all seemed right with the world…

My lovely and beloved Canadian road trip car, 2018 Mustang GT convertible

About five minutes later, I realized that it was way hotter than I expected up in Nova Scotia (the car said it was 32C which is 90F) and the sun was starting to turn my exposed flesh pink already. Seeing as there was no way in hell I was going to put the top up, I exited the freeway to find a grocery store and track down some sunscreen in larger quantities than the tiny bottle I brought with me (who the hell expected it to be so damn hot in Nova Scotia that I wouldn’t be wearing long sleeves, not me). Because even though a convertible brings inordinate amount of joy, I’m still a melanoma survivor and need to protect my skin… As typical when I’m on a road trip, I bought some junk food for the journey but you will be pleased to know that in addition to potato chips and those butter cookies with milk chocolate topping, I picked up sliced turkey, small little rolls, and carrots to round out my options. Healthy living! I had to go to a nearby pharmacy to track down the lone bottle of sunscreen in the province. Apparently Nova Scotians don’t concern themselves with sun protection nearly enough. I lathered up and then made my top-down way back to NS-102 North.

It took about 45 minutes or so before I hit Truro, where I exited onto the TransCanada Highway East towards New Glasgow/Cape Breton. I was expecting a “2 lanes in either direction divided highway” the entire way to Cape Breton but I was in for a reset of my expectations right outside of New Glasgow. The road suddenly became one lane in either direction for long stretches with the occasional passing lane providing a very brief opportunity to pass the semis and RVs laboring their way up steep hills. Then, we had another stretch of divided 2-lane highway that lasted like a mirage before reverting to the “one-lane in either direction” road. At that point, I was still hesitant to pass when there wasn’t a passing lane because I wasn’t sure how much you could exceed the posted speed limit of 100kph without attracting the attention of the local authorities. It seemed like a perfect setup to augment the local coffers with impatient drivers’ cash.

After about four hours, I made it to the bridge connecting Cape Breton to mainland Nova Scotia (I desperately wanted to take a photo of the sign on the bridge that said Welcome to Cape Breton Island but figured the semi behind me would ram me right off the bridge if I slowed down). I irrationally thought that I would surely be in Baddeck in like 10 minutes and then Ingonish soon after. Well, apparently I did not look closely enough at the scale on the map because it was a bit further than that, particularly following a fully laden logging truck. In a flash of intuition, I decided to fill up the car in Baddeck since I was at half a tank and I realized that I had no idea that Nova Scotia was so damn rural and therefore, I might not have the option to fill up whenever I really needed to. In fact, if there’s one thing I did learn about driving all over Nova Scotia, PEI, and New Brunswick for a week, it is this: if you are at half a tank, fill the damn thing up at the next available gas station because you may need to drive another 45 minutes and a hundred kilometers before the next opportunity.

With the top down, I could smell the fragrant pine trees and the tang of the sea. It was intoxicating combined with the flashes of the ocean, the long stretches of forest that seemed to go on forever, the tiny “blink and you miss them” towns, and the rugged, pine-covered mountains of the interior. Past Baddeck, the road twisted along the knife edge of where the ocean and the mountains meet, providing one hell of a fun driving experience in a super charged vehicle. At one point, there was a punk kid and his friends in a car that looked suspiciously like the one I dropped off in New York riding my bumper. We were entering into a zone where the road switchbacked a hundred times while clinging to the edge of a mountain on one side and the ocean (with no guardrail) on the other. And despite the fact that I’m an old lady now, I once was a young punk myself and know how to handle a Mustang GT; so I gave them a taste of my car’s exhaust and laid the hammer down. There was no way they could keep up with me on the switchbacks and uphill stretches and I soon had a car-free view in my rearview.

The scenery grew more and more beautiful as dusk fell. Pulling into the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, I made the decision not to progress any further than Ingonish. I didn’t want to drive mountainous roads in the dark, with the ever-present concern about moose on the roads. So despite the fact that I had tentative plans to stay the night in Meat Cove (all the way at the very top of Cape Breton Island), I entered Ingonish and looked with increasing concern at all of the No Vacancy signs. I was just about ready to admit defeat and turn back towards the Keltic Lodge (that had availability but is a very expensive and posh option, far nicer than anything else on the island and you know I was loath to stay there as a result even with my pimp-ass car) when I spotted lodgings with a Vacancy sign. I turned in quickly and practically ran to the front desk. They did have a queen bed room in the Main Lodge, which I quickly snapped up. It was basic, but it had working AC (because it was still flipping way too hot for northern Nova Scotia), a small fridge, a clean bathroom, and a path that led down to a rocky beach on the Atlantic. I stood on the little hillside above the beach, watching as the sunset turned the water pink and purple. And by the bright light of the almost full moon, I made my way back to my room…

Stay tuned for my drive on the justifiably world-famous Cabot Trail…