August 7, 2017, Day 77, St Peters to East Bay, Cape Breton, 77km

“What time are you usually up”, Pat asked us the day before. “Around 6am”, replied Charlie. I could have given Charlie a kick under the table. But it’s true. We usually are up and getting ready around then.  These days are more leisurely as we have less than 100 km to do and 3 days to do them so we can putter a bit and certainly, we could sleep in for an extra hour. “Well, it’s a bit early for us but I’ll be up making you a hot breakfast. Gonna send you off right, with a hot breakfast in you.” Thre was no talking him out of it. We told him we didn’t really have to be up that early and we told him we had our own food. He said that he’d keep us on our usual schedule and there was no way we were going to leave without him cooking for us.

So 6am we were up. The smell of bacon and sausage wafted downstairs. Mmmm…    “How do you like your eggs? Poached? Yes, that would be great. “And raisin toast, Just help yerself.” Another example of the kindness of strangers. As we ate together, Pat talked,  his voice booming and  I wondered how Sharon could sleep through it. “Oh, she won’t be up until 10 or 11. She likes ‘er sleep.”   He’s so quick witted, he had us both laughing. He told us about the new bed Sharon insisted they buy. The whole head raises at the push of a button and he told us how he slides down the bed until his feet and legs stick out the bottom. Then he has to clamber back up, only to slide down again. He has a big personality. Very sentimental,  he was teary-eyed when he spoke of his deceased parents and friends, He believes that God put him on the earth to try to do good whenever he could.” Well, he and Sharon were sure good to us!  

We were off. There were hills to climb! Don’t let anyone ever tell you that Cape Breton is flat! Sometimes as I’m climbing I do a little assessment.

Feet…..how are you doing?        We’re fine, we’re fleet, reply my feet.                                  Calves, what about you?             Pumping, pumping, pumping…..                                            What about you thighs?             Optimized, say my thighs.                                                     Butt….what about you?               Uhh…I could do with a little more circulation but I’m ok.

Arms?                                             We’re holding tight.                                                                   Head?                                              I’m tired! How much further can this hill be? My water tastes weird. When are we gonna stop? I want a snack. I’m hot…….

Shut up head. You’re the weak link. Go back to counting or singing all those songs you don’t know.

Big Pond, Cape Breton is a tiny little town on Bras d’Or Lake (Biosphere Reserve UNESCO—largest saltwater lake in the world) where Rita McNeil spent time as she was growing up. She converted an old schoolhouse into her home and then eventually into “Rita’s Teahouse”. Unfortunately Rita died in 2014 from surgical complications but the teahouse, now operated by her son, is not only a nice place to stop for a break and an expensive pot of tea and/or other treats, but it is also a museum depicting her lifetime: from her birth in 1944 with a harelip and cleft palate, her youth where she was ostracized, her interest in and promotion of women’s rights in the 60’s and 70’s, the births of her two children, her love of Cape Breton and her rise to fame.  My mom and I saw Rita in concert in Calgary probably 17 or so years ago. Being here evoked feelings of nostalgia. Ahhh……. 

Back to the hills. The day was slipping on. We needed a place to stay where we could get food nearby. Oh, a vacant waterside lot….lets ask next door if we can pitch a tent there for the night. No? Oh, ok, thanks anyway. You suggest the sand bar? Ok, we’ll go check it out.    

The sand bar was windy. We and the tent would have been swept into the lake, I’m sure. The ground around it was either weedy or marshy. No thanks. We went on. 

Eventually we came to a corner. There was a gas station that sold baked goods, coffee, beer and everything else a person would need. On the other side was “Chippin’ Dales, famous fish and chips”. Dale, the owner, invited us to camp on his property which extended way back to the tip of the lake.   Fantastic! In the meantime we went for a swim a few kilometres away, again in crystal clear water under a bridge.  When we got back we bought a canned Caesar for me and beer for my man and had some pretty darn good fish and chips. Charlie had 2 orders of 3-piece fish meals and 1 piece from mine. Where does he put it? How fair is that?! We hung out with Dale a bit, then set up our tent. Another peaceful beautiful night.