Southern Nova Scotia

Bar Harbor, Maine
In early August my touring bicycle and I arrived in Bar Harbor, Maine, the departure point for the Lighthouse Tour of southern Nova Scotia, Canada. Joining us were about 240 other Americans who brought their bicycles and personal gear. We gathered at the College of the Atlantic, voted by Princeton Review as having the most beautiful campus in the
country.

Bar Harbor Bay, Maine

We pitched our tents on the college's expansive lawn, then picked up our trip packets from Steve and Mimi Bell who had organized the Lighthouse Tour. Afterwards I took a walk around Bar Harbor which once was a small fishing and ship-building community.

A four-masted ship docked at Bar Harbor

Today Bar Harbor is a bustling town of 4,500 residents, and a favorite destination for people throughout the world. I strolled along the waterfront where I saw a wide assortment of fishing boats, schooners, yachts, and excursion boats. The town's mélange of inns and cottages, artists' studios, little stores, and restaurants fascinated me. At a tiny cafe I ordered the lunch special: a hot dog with the works, potato chips, and a Diet Coke -- all for only one dollar.
The next morning I broke camp and loaded my two duffel bags into a large Ryder truck. The Lighthouse Tour was going to be fairly plush because the truck would haul all my gear. Moreover, the tour helpers had painted arrows on the road to mark the entire bicycle route.
My fellow group members and I boarded The Cat, the largest catamaran and the fastest car ferry in North America. Called the "Concorde of the Seven Seas," The Cat crosses the Bay of Fundy to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia in just two and one-half hours. I locked my bike securely between a bulkhead and a car, then walked up several staircases to the top deck. With 750 passengers, 250 motor vehicles and at least 250 bicycles, the ferry was rather crowded.

240 bicyclists waiting to board The Cat ferry to Nova Scotia

Yarmouth, Nova Scotia
The Cat docked in Yarmouth located on the southwestern-most tip of Nova Scotia. I rode my bike through town and headed for the grounds of the local high school. After pitching my tent, showering, and washing out my riding clothes, I cycled around the community.
Yarmouth was settled in the 1780s primarily by New England Loyalists from Massachusetts. In the 19th century the town was a leading shipbuilding and fishing center as well as one of the most important ports in North America. Yarmouth also became a popular destination for Canadians and Americans who liked to vacation on the coast and enjoy the temperate summers there.
Today Yarmouth is the largest town in southern Nova Scotia with approximately 9,000 residents. It is a pleasant place that offers some noteworthy architecture dating from the golden age of seafaring. The real beauty of the town is its harbor, fishing fleet, and proud history.
A prominent site in Yarmouth is its lighthouse. The first one was built in 1840 to guide ships safely in the harbor. In the 1960s this structure was replaced by a modern, electrically-run lighthouse. On my trip around southern Nova Scotia I would see many such lighthouses.
After breakfast the next morning I stored my gear in the rental truck and hit the road. It was a bit foggy, but soon the sun shined brightly as I pedaled along the beautiful Nova Scotia coast.

The Evangeline Trail
I followed the scenic Evangeline Trail through fertile farm country and historic French-speaking villages dating back to the earliest days of North American settlement. Vicariously I entered the world of the French pioneers of the early 17th century, New England planters of the 1760s, and of the Loyalists of the 1780s, who had flocked there following the American Revolution. The Acadians, Nova Scotia's first European settlers, were expelled from that area. This tragedy inspired Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to pen his epic poem "Evangeline," from which the Evangeline Trail takes its name.

Digby
As I pedaled along the coast of St. Mary's Bay, I passed through several picturesque fishing villages. Finally I reached the outskirts of Digby. I rested at a McDonald's restaurant and indulged in a fish fillet sandwich and a small strawberry milkshake.
After lunch I rode to the Lighthouse Tour campground located on the sports field of Digby High School. Because I was one of the first riders to arrive there, I had my choice of campsites. I selected a shady spot atop a small wooded hill overlooking the field. I wanted to distance myself from the oncoming crowd of cylists to avoid the feeling of being enclosed in a cattle corral.
Digby was named after Admiral Sir Robert Digby, a British admiral who arrived there in 1783 from New England aboard his vessel, the H.M.S. Atlanta. He led a group of 1,500 Loyalists who found relations with their neighbors rather strained following the War of Independence. The admiral and many of his followers settled in Digby or farther inland along the Annapolis Valley.
Today Digby is an unassuming port town with a population of 2,500. It is home to the world's largest inshore scallop fleet which drags the ocean bottom for tasty and succulent scallops. Every year during the second week in August, the town celebrates its way of life and dependence on the sea with a festival called Digby Scallop Days.

A seafood restaurant in Digby

I rode my bike down to the waterfront where the scallop boats were tied up. There I saw typical New England wood-frame houses, several gift shops, and many no-frills seafood restaurants some of which had a spectacular view of the Annapolis Basin.
The ride on the following day was short; the distance from Digby to Annapolis Royal was only 25 miles. I cruised slowly along Route 101, following the marked arrows on the road. It was a joy to cycle through the Annapolis Valley with its patchwork quilt of fields, dikes, orchards and vineyards. This is Atlantic Canada's richest agricultural region.
For a half hour I accompanied a couple pedaling at a fast clip on a tandem bicycle. Later I passed another couple on a tandem recumbent who traveled at a more leisurely pace. As we left one village, a very steep hill slowed our progress considerably. I was thankful that my bike was not loaded down with camping gear!

Annapolis Royal
I was among the first Lighthouse Tour riders to arrive in Annapolis Royal. I easily located the Annapolis Royal Academy in whose back yard I pitched my tent. I assumed correctly that most of the other cyclists would camp in the front yard of the Academy. I value my privacy highly. After enjoying a picnic lunch under the shade of a tree, I walked around town for a closer look.

A quiet road near Annapolis Royal

Annapolis Royal is the oldest settlement in Canada. A group of doughty settlers that included French explorers Samuel de Champlain and Sieur de Monts founded the town in 1605. Champlain loved the area surrounding the beautiful Annapolis Basin. "It is one of the finest harbors that I have seen on all these coasts," he wrote in his journal.
Today Annapolis Royal has 800 residents who are rightfully proud of their town's heritage as the "birthplace of Canada." They live in a charming village of clapboard homes with generous porches facing the sea, expansive lawns, well-tended gardens, and quiet narrow streets. For over one hundred years the town's residents have been unusually active in preserving the character of the place. Approximately 150 buildings and homes there are officially designated heritage sites including the oldest wooden house in Canada.

A bridge near Annapolis Royal

No-Pay Ray
While walking around Annapolis Royal I met the most interesting character on my tour: No-Pay Ray. This American fellow in his early 30s followed our group on his bicycle which carried all of his camping gear. Ray refused to pay the required Lighthouse Tour fees, so my fellow cyclists called him No-Pay Ray. "Why should I pay for this great tour when all I have to do is just follow the arrows on the road and camp near the group? I've been doing it for years!" Ray said with a laugh.
Later one of the tour cyclists told me that in Bar Harbor he had seen No-Pay Ray board The Cat without buying a ticket. Because no one had collected our individual ferry tickets, everyone assumed that Ray was part of our group.
Understandably, many of my group members shunned No-Pay Ray as an outcast. They did not like him because they had paid for their tour, and he had not. "He's a parasite!" one rider told me. Other group members regarded Ray as a colorful person. Indeed, he was a controversial character and the basis for many interesting conversations during the Lighthouse Tour.
Because heavy rains were forecasted for Annapolis Royal, many of my fellow cyclists decided to sleep on the floor of the Academy's gymnasium. When it began drizzling, I jumped into my tent, snuggled up in my sleeping bag, and soon drifted off to Dreamland.

Across mid-Nova Scotia
It was still dark and muggy when I rolled out of my sack at five o'clock the next morning. I ate a small cantaloupe and drank a liter of skim milk, which provided enough energy to get me on the road. In a light mist I began pedaling eastward over Highway 8 into the interior of the Nova Scotia peninsula.
About 25 miles southwest of Annapolis Royal I cycled past Kejimkujik National Park. A world apart from coastal Nova Scotia, this area is peaceful, remote, and sparsely settled. It is also quite hilly; the drumlins or rounded hills were formed by retreating glaciers during the last Ice Age.

Liverpool
After five hours of spinning my pedals, I reached Liverpool nestled on the estuary of the Mersey River. There was considerable traffic on the somewhat narrow streets of town. However, the painted arrows on the highway marked my route all the way to camp. When I arrived at our campground on the lawn of a school, I pitched my tent in a remote corner, showered, then enjoyed a delicious haddock lunch at the local bowling alley.

Typical scenery in southern Nova Scotia

Liverpool was originally called "Ogomkegea," meaning "the place of departure" in reference to its natural harbor. French explorers Sieur de Monts and Samuel de Champlain dropped anchor there in 1604. They did not stay long, however, and permanent European settlement of Liverpool did not occur until 1755. In that year Governor Lawrence of Nova Scotia arranged with the Massachusetts Government to locate the descendants of the Mayflower on the south shore of town. Until the outbreak of the American Revolution, Liverpool maintained strong ties with the American colonies. From 1776 to 1815, however, the town was the base of Nova Scotia's privateers and is still known as the "Port of Privateers." Later it became an important center for ship building as well as a trading port.
Today Liverpool is a fishing and paper-milling town of 3,200 residents. The historic area of town is centered around its harbor where Loyalists fled from the newly formed United States. Many of their homes reflect the New England style of architecture. For example, some houses have a "widow's walk," which is a small deck on the roof from which women would scan the horizon for the homecoming ships of their husbands. Sadly, some of their men were lost at sea; hence, the name widow's walk.
I returned to camp from my walking tour of Liverpool, hoping that the misty rain would diminish and the sun would return the following day. After chatting with several of my fellow cyclists, I hit the sack.
The next morning I left Liverpool just as the sun was rising. It was peaceful to cycle alone over the hills overlooking the coast. That peace was interrupted when Jan, a middle-age woman, caught up to me on her bicycle. I had no difficulty ascending the hills, but they were quite challenging for Jan. "Go on ahead, Jim. Don't slow down for me," she urged. I obeyed, saying that I would see her later in camp.
In the village of Lockport I stopped for a snack break. One of the Lighthouse Tour helpers was waiting there with trays full of cookies, bananas, and Gatorade. The 20-mile round-trip detour from the main road to the cookie van was worth the effort.

Shelburne
In the early afternoon I reached the beautiful town of Shelburne. After setting up my tent and taking a hot shower in the group campground, I walked around town.

An old warehouse in Shelburne

In the spring of 1783, five thousand United Empire Loyalists fled New England and arrived on the shores of Shelburne Harbor. They not only were assured of protection under the British flag, but they also received promises of free land, tools, and provisions. The town swelled with newcomers, and by 1784 there were 10,000 people living in Shelburne. Two years later 16,000 people were living there, making Shelburne the fourth largest settlement in North America. In the 19th century, Scottish, Irish and Welsh immigrants arrived to settle in the area. As in many other coastal communities in Nova Scotia, their principal livelihood was based on fishing and boat building. Shelburne straddles one of the best natural harbors in the world.
Today 3,500 people live in Shelburne, many of whom are descendants of the original Loyalists. They earn a living by fishing, processing fish, lumbering, and manufacturing barrels and institutional furniture. In 1994 many residents of Shelburne earned pocket money as extras in the movie "The Scarlet Letter," based on Nathaniel Hawthorne's novel depicting Puritan New England in the mid 1600s. The film, starring Demi Moore, Gary Oldman, and Robert Duvall, was shot on location at the town's waterfront.
In the evening all the Lighthouse Tour riders gathered at the waterfront for a wonderful salmon barbecue with homemade apple pie for dessert. As we chowed down on that delicious food, local folk singers performed for us on stage.

Salmon grilled the old-fashioned way

Suddenly, in the distance I recognized a fellow who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. It was No-Pay Ray! He was tapping his toe to the music of our entertainers as he gobbled down a large piece of apple pie that someone in our group had smuggled to him. My only thought was, "No-Pay Ray scores again!"
The next morning I enjoyed cycling alone under sunny skies along the coastal road. On my left I could make out several outlying islands that looked like large green dots on the horizon. I pedaled onward through the picturesque fishing villages of Birchtown, Clyde River, and Barrington.

Fishing is an important industry in southern Nova Scotia

Shag Harbor
By mid-afternoon I reached Shag Harbor and the grounds of the local elementary school, our campground for the night. As I helped unload the baggage truck, I jokingly said to the other volunteers, "This is our reward for having arrived so early." I set up my tent, showered, and had lunch while enjoying the natural beauty of the seacoast.
Shag Harbor is such a small fishing village that it rarely appears on most maps. The village got its name from the word "shag," referring to the double-breasted cormorant that is native to the area. Years ago pirates operated along this coastline, preying on American vessels to the south, then retreating quickly to the relative protection of Shag Harbor.
As the day progressed, very heavy fog began rolling in from the coast. Within a half hour the dense fog reduced visibility to a few feet. I felt sorry for the riders who had left Shelburne relatively late that morning. Cycling in that thick pea soup could be dangerous, although the traffic along Route 103 was fairly light. Fortunately, the latecomers drifted into camp one by one. That evening over a delicious lasagna dinner we exchanged stories about our adventures that day.

Journey's end
The following morning I intended to leave camp very early but when my friend Jan asked me to change her flat tire, I played the role of Good Samaritan and came to her rescue. I still was able to get on the road by 6:00 am. Luckily the fog had vanished during the night and the sun was slowly rising in the East.
The road was smooth and fairly flat so I decided to challenge myself to a race. After all, this was the home stretch of the Lighthouse Tour. I spun my pedals like beaters in an electric mixer, zooming past dozens of other cyclists some of who decided to give chase.
In less than three hours we arrived in Yarmouth. I read my e-mail messages at the town's library, then relaxed in the sun while I waited for our ferry.
As I was boarding The Cat along with 240 of my fellow cyclists, someone shouted, "Look! There's No-Pay Ray! He's sneaking on with his bicycle!" Another person screamed, "He didn't pay! He didn't pay!" Several others began yelling, "Ray didn't pay! Ray didn't pay!" A crew member of The Cat, who overheard all this commotion, quickly nabbed Ray and escorted him to the pay booth. At last No-Pay Ray paid the Piper. "But I paid in Canadian dollars so I got a better deal than you guys," Ray bragged to me with a big smirk on his face.
As the catamaran ferry traveled at a fast clip toward Bar Harbor, I sat back on a comfortable lounge chair. I thought about the beautiful coastal route I had pedaled over the past seven days, the new friends I made along the way, and the tremendous knowledge I gained about southern Nova Scotia.