Far away is far away only if you don't go there. - Part 3 (Part 1 & 2 are posted below)

It was about 9:30 when I left my camp headed towards the Cape Breton Highlands National Park .

Along the way from Trurro, the road construction crews were out and repaving sections of highway. They would shut down half of the road and allow traffic to pass in one direction, and then reverse the traffic flow for some time. The sun was hot when I was sitting still, and it seemed that I was always going in the direction that had to wait. It was not enjoyable at all. I certainly would not cover the distance to the Canso Causeway in anything near a normal travel time.

Going in this direction on the highway sucks even if you can do it in normal time. It is relatively flat here, and there is nothing of interest to see. There is nothing to stop for. It is just simply boring. When you have to stop and sit still in the heat with the aroma of hot tar and diesel fuel for ten minutes at a time every 20 minutes or so, it adds up to wishing there was another way to get to where you were going.

Finally made it to the Canso Causeway, paid a toll and was again rolling north-east. It was time to think about how to do the trail. It is essentially a loop. Both ends of the loop cross the road I was now on. Should I do the loop in a clockwise direction, which would keep me on the side of the road closest to the hills, or go in a counter-clockwise direction which would keep me on the side closer to the water? I chose to do it CCW, as it would mean not having to make a left turn across an oncoming lane of traffic when I wanted to stop at any of the overlooks which look out over the Northumberland Straits.

I was very surprised at the altitude of the road. It was not really high, but in comparison to the rest of N.S. It is unexpectedly high. As you can see in the photo on the right, it is a superb motorcycle road! It winds through an (at the time) "unimproved" National Park. While it was free then, I understand that there is now a fee to travel over this road.

Upon crossing the causeway, I began to see signs advertising a Alexander G. Bell museum located in Baddeck . I had never realized that Bell had ties to the area. Seems like after making money on the telephone invention, he spent many years here working on a many projects, including some for the army.

He built some large kites and tested them here. The kites were set up to strap a passenger to. The idea was to fly a person high enough to serve as a observer on battlefields. It was Lieutenant Thomas. E. Selfridge , who actually volunteered to fly on this kite.. brave guy. who made the first controlled man-flight, in one of Bell's kites in 1907. The same man died seven months later while flying as a passenger of Orville Wright. He became the first person to die in the history of powered flight.

An incident happened this day that remains vivid in my memory. I had found a turn-off observation area with a stunning view over the Northumberland Strait.. There was a weather bent tree that offered a shady spot to sit and watch the whales which were doing their thing a half mile from where I sat and watched. The birds were singing in the trees and hopping from limb to limb. Thistle and dandilions was blooming the section of a guard rail that was in place to prevent people from falling over the edge and onto the rocky shoreline several hundred feet below. It was a very tranquil place, and the cooling breeze off the sea felt refreshing on your skin.

I had been sitting there for perhaps 20 minutes when I heard another bike downshifting and turning off the road to where I was. It was another BMW. Seeing me sitting there the solitary rider stopped beside my BMW and sat on his idling machine for a minute,, and then killed his engine. Without a word he removed his helmet, took off his leather jacket, and reached into his trunk. With two cans of cold apple juice he walked in my direction and handed me one. In return I offered him some potato chips from a large bag. We talked quietly for a few minutes, exchanging info on where we had come from, where we were headed, and about stuff we had seen along the way. He was doing the trail in the opposite direction, and tipped me off to watch the road for falling rock along a section of "Trunk 19" (Route 19) which had been loosened by the rainstorm a few days before.

Soon, the conversation lulled, and we just sat and looked out over the sea. About ten or fifteen minutes past, and suddenly a Winnabago style camper rolled to a stop beside our bikes. Alberta license plate. This rig had a huge sliding, screened window (probably 3 X 5 foot) pushed back wide open on the drivers side, and was piloted by a guy who looked like he was resigned to the fact that his vacation was sucking life from him. We could hear his wife bitching at him about something, and his teen-age daughter whining about how she wanted to go back to “the place with the pool”.

The back door on the passenger side of the motorhome slams open and out jumps a fifteen year old boy with a big friggen boom box. This thing is huge and has four speakers, two about 8” and two more about 6”.

Now remember, this was the 80s, and Michael Jackson was the hot thing with his just released “Thriller” album. The kid cranks the volume up to the threshold of pain. The birds fly off, and the rythimic crash of the surf below is no longer heard. The kid starts to practice his “moon walk”.

My new rider aquaintance puts down his juice can and is on his feet in less than two minutes walking in the kids direction. I'm sitting leaning back against the tree, watching the reaction of the driver. He shifts in his seat sitting up straighter, and leans forward resting his forearms on the wheel, and is watching a situation develop. He looks a little nervious.

Rider says “hi” to the kid in a friendly manner.

Kid says “hi” and turns down the music a touch.

Rider says “nice boom box”

Kid: “yeah”.

Driver and his now quiet wife watch intently through the windshield.

Rider to kid - “how much a radio like that cost?”

Kid says “$105.-”

Rider says “Canadian money?”

Kid: “yeah”

Rider: “may I see it?”

Kid hands rider the boom box..

I hear Drivers wife saying “Harry.......” as they both are starting to look real uncomfortable.

Rider says to kid in a friendly tone: “wow... this is heavy, got a lot of batteries in it.”

Kid: “yeah, holds like eight.”

Rider lifts boom box over his head, turns to the cliff and tosses it over with a grunt..

I'm sitting there stunned alternately watching this thing sailing through the air and the reaction of the driver, his wife, and the kid.

The boom box made a graceful arc and fell about half way to the sea when it struck the first rock outcropping, with a sharp crack, it unleashed an explosion of D cell batteries, cassett tape, and flyying plastic parts, before continuing its plumet to the water below. Silence returns.

About 30 seconds pass, and no one has moved or uttered a sound.

Rider calmly reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, counts out $125., and hands it to the stunned kid whose jaw is slack.

I look at the driver, who is now breaking out in a large grin. His wife looking in stunned disbelief.

The rider turns and walks back in my direction looking very amused.. He returns to where he was sitting minutes before, and picks up apple juice can.

Kid runs back to motorhome.

Driver who looks absolutly gleeful starts engine as wife starts yelling at kid to “get in here”

Driver trying not to laugh, begins backing out of parking area while looking at us and giving a thumbs-up.

For months, no, make that years later, whenever I heard Thriller I just broke up in laughter.

Another Part to follow soon...