The spectacular panoramic view from the mountain we climbed would probably the apex of our trip, both figuratively and literally. 
  Rolling mountains plunged into the sea, illuminated by a newborn sun, shining it’s first light on the crumbling rock faces, with our makeshift campsite on Meat Cove nestled in between.
 We took a less-traveled trail through the woods, which emerged at the top of a sweeping grassy hill, overlooking the coastline before it dropped off towards the ocean.

With no cell service and no hope of rescue (or hope to retrieve my bike) should a blowout take me over one of the multitudes of cliffs, Jay and I slowly rode on, white-knuckled and tense until we finally saw macadam again.
 Stopping several times to admire the eastern side of the Cabot Trail, we resolved to slowly and carefully make our way down to the closest motorcycle shop.  I would have changed my tire a few days ago, but we didn't pass any shops or large towns along the trail.
Within about an hour, I was clearly running on cords.  No shops were open today, but we talked to several people at service stations, who said our best bet would be Sydney (3 hours north in the wrong direction) or Moncton (5 hours ahead).

The Road to Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island and off-road to Meat Cove

 We crossed the Canso Causeway and traveled north along coastal route 19, passing a number of bikes and resting at a few picturesque beaches (south of Inverness above).
 Lunch break in Cheticamp. We stopped off at the local "Coop" grocery store and picked up some roast beef and chicken sandwiches. Food has been the sole underwhelming aspect of Canadian culture (other than perhaps overly polite Canadian drivers).
 The entrance to the Cape Breton Highlands National Park was incredible, and one of the most drastically beautiful landscapes I've ever seen.  Imagine massive rocky superstructures of the southwestern United States, covered in verdant pine forests, dramatically dropping off into the surrounding ocean.
 The roads are truly legendary on a motorcycle as well.
 Snaking around hill after hill, switchbacks and tight corners ascended and descended from water level to thousands of feet in elevation in minutes.
  Turn after turn, with warning limits of 30kph (less than 20mph), made the ride a white knuckle experience.
 Around the next corner, a stunning expanse of ocean and mountain, tattooed with winding pavement.
 Halfway through the Cabot Trail, the road leaves the National Park, where a buddy back home had recommended a place called Meat Cove, a small community at the northern most point of Nova Scotia. The road off which we turned at Port North quickly turned into a poorly maintained gravel road, treacherous in a car, not to mention on two sport bikes.  Both Jay and I nearly lost our bikes several times.  My rear wheel locked up going down a crazy steep hill, and I managed to turn into the slide, just barely saving my bike.

 Sheer rock faces plunged into the water, and a small stream carved out a little inlet called Meat Cove.
 We navigated our bikes down one last washed out slope and parked a few hundred feet from the water.  There was a campground up the cliff, but several people came down to swim, including a older gentleman named Carmen who was friends with the owner, who advised us it would be fine to camp on the beach.

Next Day: Nova Scotia: Mile 1534

© 2014 Tigh Loughhead