The ocean is below and to our right as our car rounds a bend and begins a steep climb. Behind us, the road is a gray skein of asphalt belting curved, forested slopes; the rocks at their base lean forward to be licked by gentle whitecaps. The road climbs and still climbs, curving and straightening and curving again until we reach the summit nine hundred feet above a sea that’s a glowing blue—almost indistinguishable from the midafternoon sky if it weren’t for the soft line of haze between them.
We crest out, then start down the other side, dazzled by the views that are broken by no buildings large or showy enough to detract from them. That’s because we’re north of money, investment, development and pollution. There’s nothing here but mountains and ocean, the wildlife and the small number of humans that inhabit the area and farm, fish and fiddle (not to mention providing basic retail goods and hospitality services for tourists who come to enjoy the unspoiled benign wilderness).
The mountain that’s now tilting gently down into the little town of Ingonish is Cape Smokey, southeastern gateway to the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. It’s called Cape Smokey because if there’s fog around, a layer of it is apt to sit on this promontory, which defines the view on one side of the bay along which Ingonish is spread.
You may prefer a wild camping area like Meat Cove, with its end-of-the-world feel and dramatic views, or Cheticamp, the French fishing town on the western side of the island; otherwise Ingonish is a fine base from which to reach the wilderness hiking trails to the north and west or, when you’re yearning for a little civilization, to go south to Baddeck, where you can visit the Alexander Graham Bell museum (well worth a couple of hours) or hear masterful music at a nominal price at a ceilidh (KAY-lee) in a little parish church. Craft shops and studios dot the road; art work, ironwork, woodwork, sewn and knitted goods, pottery and quilts produced locally are abundant and beautifully crafted.
Lovely as Cape Breton is, it probably isn’t at the top of the list of popular honeymoon destinations. For New England couples, the relative closeness of Cape Breton (compared to, say, Hawaii or the Caribbean) might make it seem less than exotic, less than a dramatic departure from the landscapes they already know. But Cape Breton is indeed an exotic paradise—one that can be easier to reach and more economical to enjoy than other popular honeymoon destinations. And for couples who want to get away from the madding crowds, Cape Breton offers plenty of elbow room.
The drive around the top of the island is world-famous for its beauty; though the tourism on Cape Breton isn’t overwhelming in terms of numbers, it’s remarkable for its diversity, for the island draws from all over the world. For a superb day, you can’t do better than travel from Ingonish past picturesque Neil’s Harbor and then turn west for Pleasant Bay, French Mountain and the hiking path called Skyline Trail. View after view presents new combinations of mountains, rocks, rivers and the ocean; the landscape magically contrives to be both rugged and refined, softened by masses of goldenrod, lavender thistle and white Queen Anne’s lace that look as if they had been painted against walls of dark spruce and fir. If you start early, you may meet a moose munching twigs in a ravine beside the road.
At Skyline you will almost certainly see moose, and your chances are as good on a cloudy, foggy day as on a sunny one. Moose here are protected from hunting; except in the fall rut (mating season), they are secure in their environment, calm and tolerant of tourists and cameras as long as the tourists stay at a safe distance. Bulls with large racks, females and young roam this wide promontory with its beautiful carpeting of orange bunchberry, wild blueberry and enormous fern; in fourteen hikes over this five-mile trail in ten years, I’ve seen at least one moose every time but once, and on one never-to-be-forgotten day my husband and I saw nine. Bear have also been sighted at Skyline, though rarely, and grouse and other birds are among the wildlife to be seen here. Breathtaking views of the ocean a thousand feet below add splendor to this walk.
After hiking Skyline, we often head west to Cheticamp for fishcakes, accessories such as a jellyfish net from the fishing supply store, and chow (the zingy local green tomato relish) from the co-op. The views between Skyline and Cheticamp are spectacular: rocky ledges above the sea, lonely beaches, a sunny meadow in which we once saw a female moose with two young feeding among bright yellow flowers with the ocean behind them.
Back in Ingonish, we finish off the afternoon with a swim. The Gulf Stream makes the water amazingly warm for this latitude; you have to be here to believe that the water is often less chilly than the surf off Maine. Canada—a beach paradise? Yet the water temperature here can reach the high 60s F in the summer, and there are no crowds. Swimming lazily in the bay off Ingonish with my husband and two sociable ladies from Ontario in August, I looked around to see a seal just fifteen feet away, raising its head to look at me inquisitively. That’s not common on that beach, and neither was the sight of a bald eagle a week earlier, but seals and eagles are often to be seen not far south around scenic St. Ann’s Bay.
The landscape in the Cape Breton Highlands is not only beautiful; there’s a sublimity about it, perhaps because it’s so unspoiled. It has an understandable hold on people who are born there. In fact, the perennial tragedy of the island since it was first settled by people forced out of Scotland and Ireland is that it can barely support its people. Those born here often have to leave against their wishes and find work in other parts of Canada or the States. Cape Breton music is still being written and makes an evening’s listening in a church hall or bar well worth the time; it’s full of the laments and the humor of seafaring people, laborers in the now-defunct mines south of the national park, and others who were forced to find work far away. Local people will tell you how they left for the cities, made enough to finance retirement here and then came home. This is an island that offers you its human story and a chance to be, amid the drama of forest and granite and seascape, more than just a tourist.
Getting there: From Western Massachusetts, it’s twenty hours to Cape Breton Highlands National Park by car. If you have the patience, the roads are very good and Canadian radio’s endless resourcefulness at searching out rare and familiar, serious and hilarious music brightens the trip. St. John, New Brunswick is a good halfway point with accommodating B and Bs; our favorite is the Carleton House, whose owners will find you other placement if it’s full. Alternatively, you can fly to Halifax and then rent a car for the trip up the Nova Scotia coast (about four hours; stop at Masstown Market for the best grocery shopping you’ll get). There are ferries between Maine and Nova Scotia, but these are expensive, and when they require reservations, they can add a stressful sense of deadline to your drive. On the other hand, they do trim several hours off the trip. Passports are required to enter and return from Canada.
