6/16/2013 Port Maiton through Yarmouth to Argyle.


The day dawns clear and bright but my heart is in arrythmia. Damn, I put magnets on my heart spots, drink electrolytes and eat salty peanut butter for breakfast. No avail. I decide to ride slowly.

P6155349

The wind shook my little tent all night.

P6155351

Crossing Darling Lake.

I make Yarmouth about 8:00AM.

P6165354

Family feeding ducks in Yarmouth park.

I find a McDonalds and upload my posts and make a phone call and eat more salty food. I ride and find the visitors center. I want directions to Cape Forchu to see the lighthouse. The visitors center has wifi and is very helpful.

P6165356

The ferry from Maine stopped running two years ago. This is the abandoned terminal.

P6165358

Lobstering is a major industry here as well as in Maine, and these colorful traps were enroute to Cape Forchu.

P6165359

The fishing harbor. It is low tide, and the docks and boats float up 15 feet at high tide.

P6165361

En route to Cape Forchu.

P6165362

There are some amazing beaches at low tide.

P6165364
P6165369

The lighthouse at Cape Forchu.

P6165370

My bike awaits my return from visitng the lighthouse. Leaving Yarmouth I find a Canadian Tire, which is actually a general store, and buy a big bottle of Methyl Hydrate for my Primus alcohol stove in the paint thinner isle. Then I stop at Dollar General and buy some crackers and two pairs of dollar sunglasses! All set to go!

When leaving Yarmouth the cycling road changes from route 1 to route 3. It’s called “the lighthouse route.”

P6165374

Crossing the Tusket River. This used to be a major indian trading route.

P6165376

Continuing with the theme of churches too big for their communities is the Iglese St Anne. She is circa 1799.

P6165377

I find Glenwood Provincial Park and pop in to see if it is a good place for stealth camping. It is not, too many people, so I go for a very refreshing swim.

I find a place to stealth camp about 10 miles down the road. My tent is comfortably sheltered by pines on an abandoned road. I rode 49 miles today with arrythmia. I surprised myself how far I could go taking it easy. However, I had maliase all day.
Tomorrow it’s supposed to rain. You take the good with the bad.

6/15/2013 Barton to Port Maiton Nova Scotia


The tide took a long breath then exhaled. The water gurgled as it inhaled, then lapped as it exhaled. The stars were clear and bright and the Milky Way cast her ribbon of light. Morning dawned clear and inviting to an eager cyclist.

I decided to ride without the GPS today and just use the map. I find myself constantly looking at it for data, and I wanted to focus on more important things.
My legs gave my spirit flight and I headed south towards Yarmouth. The route I am taking along old Highway 1 is called the Madeline Trail.

P6155333
Crossing the Sissibou River

P6155334
An inviting road sign.

P6155335

What the heck is this doing here? Did I sneak in a pic from Europe? No, this is the Eglise Saint Bernard. It was built over 40 years and has granite walls. It is in a neighborhood of qaint little wooden homes. I go inside to take a peak and to charge my camera.

P6155336

It is dreamily beautful inside. There is soft classical music playing, and the church is filled with the sound. The acoustics make the music sound like it is coming from everywhere at once. Tears come to me because the music is so beautiful. A door opens and shuts. I hear something else- it is a gentle, well, buzzing. A bumblebee has gotten inside and it fills the church with it’s song! I look everywhere for the creature, but where to look?… the sound comes from all sides!

P6155338

But wait, not to be outdone, a few clicks down the road is the largest wooden church in North America, the Iglise St. Marie.

P6155339

I step inside, but the feeling is entirely different. This space feels like a ballroom preparing for a party.

P6155340

Here is a working shipyard. the boats are so big and awkard out of water, but look so small in the open sea.

P6155343
P6155344
I am feeling tired and pull off to eat lunch in Smugglers Cove. The area reminds me of central Oregon.

I ride for a while further and come across a small sign in French that I think says “Park.” I ride down the rock road and love what I see. I decide to stay, even though it is only 2:00pm. Take a look:

P6155346

My tent in a sheltered nook.

P6155347

There is a creek which I bathe naked in and wash my clothes and shave. The water is not too cold. I can’t describe how good it feels after a day in the saddle to bathe in a creek. How relaxing it is to dry off, get dressed and get warmed up again. How much better I smell!

P6155348

All mine for an evening. I am so enjoying the sea breeze puffing into my tent as I write this. I wish I could share this pleasure with you.

6/14/2013 Rain, Rest,


This morning Susan was not feeling well and chose to take a van to Halifax. We hug, she wishes me well and gives me some magnets to tape to my cardiac points. I tell her she has not yet earned her first paw towards her certificate of creaturedom, that she must stealth camp before this honor is bestowed. Susan has been a trooper, but Paw certificates are not easy.

I decided to cycle down the western shore of St Mary’s Bay, which is separated from the the Bay of Fundy by Digby’s Nose, a long peninsula.

It soon starts to rain. I ride 17 miles and at 10:30AM find a park with roofed picnic benches. I spend time in solitary meditation and study. I clan ooh down from my cliff top picnic bench and monitor the salt water filling the bay as the tide shifts.

It is cold, but my new little Primus alcohol stove makes hot tea and my 40 year old North Face down bag keeps me comfortable.

At 2:00PM the rain lifts, but it is still gray and dark. I decide to stay here, even though camping is not allowed. I am the only person in the park but little red tinged squirrels sprint in opposit directions along the wooden fence rails one on the lower and one on the top rail.

I read Attack of the Theocrats by Sean Faircloth using my Kindle. I cry a little over the death of my father, Bill McCarty, who gave me my enduring sleeping bag, and think about the rareness of quality. I pick memorable rocks and glance out at St Mary’s Bay between pages to see how quickly they become immersed. I study my Nova Scotia map supplied by the tourism office and read the Lonely Planet guide to the Maritime provinces.

It’s perfect here.

P6145327
Maud Lewis, a local artist.

P6145328
Looking across St Mary’s Bay with the tide out to the Digby’s Nose peninsula.

P6145329
Deciding to stay put.

Later in the afternoon I am visited by these biodynamic beekeepers, Klaus and Shirley Langpohl. We talk of Transition and Permaculture and gardening and heart. I am so pleased when they return later with a jar of their honey. www.belloucello.wordpress.com . Their email is bello.bees@gmail.com

P6145332