1. I smiled. Weāve all heard that one; motorcyclists
are the masters of braggadocio, and at one time or
another, weāve all staked our claim to the āworldās
greatest riding road.ā But Bob Scottās not a motor-
cyclist, just an innkeeper and distiller who claimed to
host riders of the Cabot Trail regularly. Bob said that,
without fail, these bikers were either one of two
things: blown away by what theyād just experienced,
or giddy with the prospect of tomorrowās ride. From
where he sat, Bob said, it was a short trip north to the
tip of Cape Breton Island, where the forest meets the
sea and the road that hugs those cliffs provides jaw-
dropping views of Highlands National Park and the
Atlantic Ocean. The scenery, Bob insisted he could
certainly vouch for. As for the ride? āOh, I have no
idea. Why donāt you come up and find out?ā
Drunk with anticipation, I took him up on his dare.
That summer, my wife, Colleen, and I set out from
New York City on the adventure of a lifetime. Little
did we know we wouldnāt be making that trip alone.
BY JON LANGSTON
PHOTOS BY COLLEEN LANGSTON
T
he words flow off the tongue, lyri-
cal and ethereal: Nova Scotia.
Ignore for a moment that the name
translates (quite literally) to New
Scotland; to a kid from California,
the name sounds so exotic it may as well refer to a
sector of the Martian landscape. So when I got the
chance to visit the gem of the Canadian
Maritimes, I wasnāt going to let the opportunity
slip through my fingers.
Like a lot of things in life, that opportunity came
because of fine whisky. No, not as the result of a
drunken brainstorm; rather, I was chatting with a
guy who operates the only single-malt distillery in
North America, Glenora Inn & Distillery in
Glenville, Nova Scotia, when this gentleman posited
that one of the finest motorcycling roads in the
world was right in his backyard.
An Epic Search ForWhisky AndYouth
2. exotic Nova Scotia! Also, most signs here were in plain
English, cars drive on the right side of the road, and folks
seemed to have an aversion to horns and an affinity for smiles.
What a strange, marvelous place! More annoyed than disturbed
by the lack of foreign oddities, abundance of strip malls, and
frank commercialization (hello, Wal-Mart!) of Yarmouth, we
found our way to Canada 103 south, the highway to Halifax.
Within minutes, we were clear of the urban sprawl and, eager to
take in the local color, exited at Pubnico to join Route 3, aka the
Lighthouse Route.
Scenic Travelways
Nova Scotia is encircled by 11 touring routes, slower-paced
two-lane roads that lead around the entire province. Each sce-
nic travelway describes the culture, history, and natural features
along the route, and is referenced within official Nova Scotia
tourism literature, with places to stay and things to do in each
area. Itās slow going, but also a fascinating, educational way
to fully experience the province.
The Lighthouse Route is an idyllic, winding
two-lane that hugs the southern shore, paral-
lel to the highway. Lonely lighthouses,
tiny hamlets, snug coves, chowder
shacks, and fishing boats
On To New Scotland
We were aboard a 2009 BMW 1600LT; the LT stands for luxury
touring, and that moniker applies in spades to this queen of the
highway. I loved the optional Garmin GPS, the user friendly
dash, and the four-speaker stereo system, while Colleen was
more appreciative of the heated seats and backrest (with sepa-
rate controls for rider and passenger) and the electronically
adjustable windshield, which I would dutifully raise once we
reached cruising speed.
From the US, a ride to Nova Scotia happens one of two
ways: you can either go up and around through New
Brunswick, or take the route we chose, via the CAT ferry from
Maine. We holed up our first night at a bed and breakfast in Bar
Harbor called the Seacroft Inn, a cozy establishment within
walking distance of this charming seaside town. The following
morning, we joined the line at the ferry terminal a mile or so
outside of Bar Harbor and boarded the CAT for Yarmouth.
(Note: In December, 2009, CAT ferry service between
Maine and Nova Scotia fell victim to the economy and was sus-
pended; as a result, details of our magnificent ferry ride have
regretfully been omitted from this story.)
Entering any foreign country is a roll of the dice, because
one never knows what to expect at a border crossing (let alone
which line to stand in, how to respond to curt queries, etc.).
After showing our papers, turning in the Customs Declaration
card stating the purpose of our visit, and being waved off the
ferry ramp, imagine our distress when the first thing we saw
was a KFC sign. And look, thereās a Taco Bell! Welcome to
RoadBikeMag.com n RoadBike n August 2011 29
5. area of Glenoraās restaurant, and then an impromptu ceilidh
(look it up) manifested itself. I stayed up late, time and again
toasting dancers, singers, players, drinkers, those who could
stand on one leg and juggleā ultimately, anything in my bleary
view became worthy of a rousing toast. Colleen stuck with
soda, knowing, I suppose, that Iād need some prodding in the
morning. It was a memorable night of supping straight from the
source. Our hosts were gracious, the split-level chalet gor-
geous, and for the third morning in a row we wished we didnāt
have to leave. After a tour of the facilities, I began packing up
the BMW. Colleen, meanwhile, snuck into the gift shop and
came out with a present for me ā a fifth of the fine, fine stuff.
Truly, this was above and beyond the call of a photographerās
duties. I tried to make room in the Beemerās saddlebags for my
potable souvenir. No luck. I tried the top case, too ā but our
gear had simply maxed out the LTās luggage space. For me, the
solution was obvious: I opened my saddlebag, took out four or
five pairs of socks, and, shrugging, chucked them into a nearby
trash can. The bottle fit nicely.
On The Trail
A few miles down the road, the hangover really kicked in.
Between the bright, hot August morning and the constriction of
my riding gear, I was in no condition to be in the saddle. By
now, 19 ran alongside the shoreline. We had just passed a des-
Causeway, which connects 104 on mainland Nova Scotia and
105 on Cape Breton Island. It supports two lanes of vehicle
traffic, as well as the single-track mainline of the Cape Breton
and Central Nova Scotia Railway; a swing bridge allows ship
traffic to pass. From its opening in 1955, the causeway charged
a toll to motorists; however, in the early ā90s the Canadian
government, in a charming (and frankly, enviable) gesture, dis-
continued the toll after the $23 million construction cost was
finally paid off. Riding up the Cape Breton Island side, we had
two choices: stay on the Trans-Canada, or hang a left onto the
coastal route. Remembering the pace of the poky Lighthouse
Route, I opted for the highway. After all, our next destination
was Glenville, home of Glenora Inn & Distillery, which, to me,
might as well have been the Emerald City. So I didnāt want to
spend any more time on the yellow brick road than was neces-
sary, for tonight was the one occasion on this tour where I
might be inclined to have a wee bit more than just-the-one.
After an hour or so, we turned left onto Route 395 at
Whycocomagh and made for the northern shore, making first a left
onto Route 252, then a right onto Canada 19. We made it to the
gates of Glenora while the sun was still in the sky. With the antic-
ipation on my palette, I disregarded the precarious gravel driveway
and guided the big tourer expertly up the hill (the trick is to main-
tain momentum, after all) to our chalet overlooking the valley.
That evening, we enjoyed an excellent dinner in the pub
32 August 2011n RoadBike n RoadBikeMag.com
8. decided to celebrate. Digby is world-renowned for its scallops,
so I got an outdoor table at a restaurant on the waterfront and
ordered a plate. Delicious. Along with the daylight, the famous
40' Bay of Fundy tide was receding by now, leaving fishing
boats to rest for the night tilted on their sides, their colorful
hulls reflecting off the mud. I went to the hotel bar and toasted
impending fatherhood with some other rally stragglers and my
new best pal, Alexander Keith. The next day, I boarded a ferry
bound for Saint John, New Brunswick.
I was anxious to get home to my family.
Epilogue
Certainly, the Cabot Trail is a beautiful ride. It climbs, it drops,
it swoops, it switches back, it stretches out ā all the while
taunting you, boldly defying you to take your eyes off the pave-
ment for one tempting second to admire the view. It just plain
dares you to give it some gas and cut loose. But you canāt.
I can appreciate how the Cabot Trail is
considered one of the worldās finest driving
roads. But is it āthe greatest motorcycling
road in the worldā? With apologies to Bob
Scott, Rannie Gillis, and the guys from
Sydney I met at Glenora, the short answer
is no. If Iād tackled it at a different time of
day, or if Iād had a longer visit and could
ride it several times in either direction, per-
haps I might feel differently.
For me, the best roads are those that
envelop you, that fully soak you in, that you
become part of. But in my experience, the
Cabot Trail was too tightly patrolled to ride at a challenging
pace, sapping the fun factor. The truly beautiful stretches of the
Cabot are some of the prettiest Iāve seen from any road. But the
astonishing views are too fleeting to be able to ride and sight-
see simultaneously; I was forced to do one, or the other. And
the biggest drawback is the amount of time it takes to get there.
If I ever ride the Cabot Trail again, Iāll fly into Halifax and rent
a bike. And stop at Glenora on the way back. RB
(For info on Nova Scotia ā the BMW K1600LT, the CAT Ferry,
the Glenora Inn & Distillery, whale watching videos, and much
more ā see my Bonus Extras at www.RoadBikeMag.com)
ground with a smile as wide as Canada. It wasnāt until I received
a text message three hours later that I fired up the BMW. My wife
and child were safely on the ground at JFK. Me? I was motoring
on, headed across Nova Scotia to its northern shore on the Bay of
Fundy and then to Digby for the annual Wharf Rat Rally.
Beaming On The Beemer
It was one of those days where nothing could knock the smile
from my face ā not that anything was trying to. The sun was
brilliant, and the traffic was light. I rode out of Halifax and made
a left on 101 toward Windsor. It was Sunday, and I was disap-
pointed to see a large number of motorcycles traveling the other
direction, toward Halifax ā rallygoers heading home after a
weekend at the Wharf Rat apparently. I hurriedly checked in at
the Digby Pines Golf Resort and Spa and made my way into
town, but it was obvious I had missed the lionās share of the fes-
tivities. Looking up and down the main drag of Digby, bikes were
parked down the center of the street,
folks strolled leisurely, vendors hawked
their wares, and a band played earnestly
ā but the party could hardly be called a
raucous blowout. Most people looked
like they were blown out themselves.
I looked up Peter Robertson, one of
the Wharf Rat Rallyās organizers. I got a
good-natured ribbing from Peter and his
staff about being a typical āAmerican
latecomerā and was regaled with stories
of the previous nightās revelry. Peter
guesstimated the previous dayās turnout
at āaround 10,000.ā I smirked politely, privately chalking that
number up to salesmanship. A few minutes later, strolling down
Water Street, I noticed the Halifax Sunday Herald displayed on a
newsstand. The front-page image plainly showed the same street
I now walked, but the shot was taken the afternoon before. Water
Street was a veritable sea of faces and chrome. The reporter esti-
mated Saturdayās attendance at āaround 10,000.ā
The Wharf Rat Rally is said to be Atlantic Canadaās largest,
and I was disappointed Iād missed the bulk of the party.
Regardless, I was still giddy from the news Colleen had given
me. After all, I was all alone in a charming seaside town on my
last night in Nova Scotia, and I was to be a daddy! ā so I
35 August 2011n RoadBike n RoadBikeMag.com
THE SCOOP
Cape Breton Highlands
National Park
www.PC.GC.ca/PN-
NP/NS/CBreton/Index.aspx
Nova Scotia Tourism
800/565-0000,
www.NovaScotia.com
Wharf Rat Rally
www.WharfRatRally.com
THE SKINNY
Digby Pines Golf Resort and
Spa, Digby
800/667-4637,
www.DigbyPines.ca
Economy Shoe Shop, Halifax
902/423-8845,
www.EconomyShoeShop.ca
Glenora Inn & Distillery,
Glenville
800/839-0491,
www.GlenoraDistillery.com
Highland Breeze Bed &
Breakfast, Pleasant Bay
877/224-2974,
www.HighlandBreeze.com
Lord Nelson Hotel, Halifax
800/565-2020,
www.LordNelsonHotel.ca
Pictou Lodge Resort, Pictou
800/495-6343,
www.PictouLodge.com
Point of View Suites,
Louisbourg
888/374- 8439,
www.LouisbourgPointOfView.com
The Seacroft Inn,
Bar Harbor, ME
800/824-9694,
www.SeacroftInn.com
White Point Beach Resort,
White Point Beach
800/565-5068,
www.WhitePoint.com