Two small, orange, glowing dots…
shimmering in the dark by the side of the highway. Too wide apart to be a fox, or even one of the local black bears. Much to high off the ground to be a deer. Apply the brakes, hard. Large dark brown form, very tall, clearly now a moose – agitated, irritated movements of its head – its dinner foraging was being disturbed. Lights now more fully on it … the thing is enormous, well over 7 feet tall and with antlers that seem to spread out to 5-6 feet or maybe more. How can it possibly get between the trees?
We are coming back from Betsy’s 7th lobster dinner at Pleasant Cove on the northern edge of the Cape Breton National Park. It is about 9:30 and pitch dark. We have spent the day traveling around the northern half of the park from one (guidebook language) jaw dropping view of cliffs and the Atlantic to another. Dark blue waters, giant granite cliffs, sparkling white sand beaches and rolling , long white waves were constant companions. On the edges of the park border, private lands still hosted small art shops, quirky restaurants, and little farmsteads … just making life possible for the 3 warm summer months. Yellow ribbons on the general store fence posts marked the snows depth this past winter – about 5 feet. Foxgloves, Roses and Dalhias were growing in every garden, along with lettuce, and cool weather veggies.
We had crossed from Cheticamp to the north and then the east of the Park earlier in the day. It involved 3 elevation changes from sea level to about 2000 feet and back down. The center of the park is a large high plateau of massive granite, about 500 millions years old formed when Europe and North America were pushing up against each other – one of the oldest exposed stable rocks on earth they say (along with New Found Land). The nearly flat top is one massive bog of slowly formed soil, frequent fog, tiny fir trees that may be several hundred years old and amazing flora. We went on one short “bog walk” where a boardwalk kept us off the moss and out of the water. Plaques helped us understand what we were seeing. We found 5 different species of orchids (blooming), water lilies, many small flowers, wild rosemary, and three types of insect eating carnivorous plants – some whose slippery sides cause the bugs to slide down to the mouth; some who curl sticky tendrils around unsuspecting insects who stop to eat at faux flowers. It was amazing what variety survived at these latitudes, at these heights and with the long cold winters.
We were very close to this same bog when the little orange eyes appeared that night. Just a half-mile further down the road two distinct shapes emerged in the headlights – a cow moose and her calf … both grazing on the tender road-side grass; and just a mile further on another cow moose. We felt lucky to have had a late dinner and be heading back just at this prime grazing time. We drove extra slowly and carefully the rest of the 50 miles or so back to camp as moose are really hard to see with their chocolate brown fur that does not reflect the lights well.
The sky was clear and we were far away from lights of towns so when we looked up just before entering the trailer we could see the Milky Way much more clearly and brightly than we had in years. And, then we had another very good sleep in the cool, clean air, knowing that our Washington DC friends and relatives were suffering through yet another sticky, hot, code-orange night of poor air quality.
What to do with Julien?
Adopt him, ransom him, abandon him?
Breakfast in the clear morning sun was spent watching the fancy RV rigs leave the camp and then a handsome, slightly tattooed young man came up and asked if we had seen a certain rig. He had been in the lavatory building and his parents had left without him! Julien was 26, upset, and flabbergasted that his Mum and Dad had not noticed that he was not in the back of their RV. Blandishments of coffee and food did not help – he had run the mile or so to the park gates but they had already left there. An offer of a cell phone to call was accepted but it went straight to voicemail… who has their cell phone on while traveling in a national park?
We packed and hooked up for departure while Julien stewed and then relaxed a bit. My advice was that he use this as an opportunity to secure something he wanted when they were reunited – clothing, gifts, vacations, etc. But he was having none of it… Another cell phone call, this time Mom answered and from 20 feet away we could hear her surprised exclamations and lots of Canadian French exchanges with Julien. 30 minutes later, just as I finished the dishes, he was reunited with them….Hopefully not to be abandoned again on this vacation.
We headed south again, stopping at a Center for Masques – a local tradition used during Lent when the community visits each other “in mask” and guessing of identities is followed by gingerbread and butterscotch sauce. Maggie and I walked the little port of Grand Etang (pics of Maggie) and could see that while meager, life now was considerably better than it had been a century ago. This part of the island, including Cheticamp where we were yesterday, only got it first road built in 1947 – until then it was a miserable 14 hour horseback ride to Inverness, or a wet, steamship ride (very occasional) down off the island. The upper communities of Cape Breton were really isolated, though long-settled, and the local museum was full of things that were very familiar to me from visiting Grandad’s house in Moscow, Idaho – the difference was that Grandad’s tools, the rugs, furniture, stoves, etc. reflected life at the beginning of the 20th century – here it was mid-20th century.
The middle of the day was spent at the Alexander Graham Bell center – now a part of Canada’s national park system, in Baddeck.
Betsy wants to add her voice to the blog so I am stopping now and will try to post this … from Fortress Louisbourg on CapeBreton’s far east coast.
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