Meat Cove, viewed from the road into "town"
Campground on the edge
We acquired a temporary dog for our walk in Meat CoveCopyright 2009 Lydia Hinshaw
MEAT COVE, NS -- On our tattered map of Nova Scotia, Meat Cove is at the end of a thin, squiggly line that looks like a dust mote.
Places like this draw me like Vegas draws gamblers.
Prince Charming, however, is a paved-road kind of guy. When I suggested we go to Meat Cove Thursday, he was reluctant, so I shut up.
Friday morning we decided to retrace our route on the Cabot Trail, since great scenery often looks different from the other direction. We would be going by the turnoff to Meat Cove again, and this time when I suggested a side trip, the Prince was willing to risk it, secure in the knowledge that if we had a problem, it would be all my fault.
The dirt part of the road was only the last five miles, and it wasn't any worse that what often passes for pavement in these parts. The views coming into the tiny community were spectacular. The campground at the end of the road was perched on a grassy hillside that led to a cliff that dropped off to endless deep blue.
What's more, the campground had a restaurant. And there was another restaurant within walking distance too.
This would have been a wonderful place to camp, and have dinner, all in the same postal code, which is hard to do here. We'd spent several hours Thursday night, increasingly hungry and then increasingly tired, trying to eat and find an overnight spot. We'd settled for mediocre food and a pretty decent campsite.
We didn't have time to stay another day on Cape Breton Island, but we did spend some time in Meat Cove, enjoying an excellent breakfast and then hiking downhill to the rocky beach below the campground.
On our way back, a dog joined us and escorted us back to the car. The lady who'd waited on us in the restaurant happened to be outside when the three of us walked up. She said that Champ is the resident dog, and he'll go walking with just about anybody who passes by.
Later, in the National Park Visitors Center, we learned that Meat Cove got its name because so many meat-packing ships wrecked on this northernmost extremity of the island. That's the legend, anyhow. The place was named so long ago that no one really remembers why.
Places like this draw me like Vegas draws gamblers.
Prince Charming, however, is a paved-road kind of guy. When I suggested we go to Meat Cove Thursday, he was reluctant, so I shut up.
Friday morning we decided to retrace our route on the Cabot Trail, since great scenery often looks different from the other direction. We would be going by the turnoff to Meat Cove again, and this time when I suggested a side trip, the Prince was willing to risk it, secure in the knowledge that if we had a problem, it would be all my fault.
The dirt part of the road was only the last five miles, and it wasn't any worse that what often passes for pavement in these parts. The views coming into the tiny community were spectacular. The campground at the end of the road was perched on a grassy hillside that led to a cliff that dropped off to endless deep blue.
What's more, the campground had a restaurant. And there was another restaurant within walking distance too.
This would have been a wonderful place to camp, and have dinner, all in the same postal code, which is hard to do here. We'd spent several hours Thursday night, increasingly hungry and then increasingly tired, trying to eat and find an overnight spot. We'd settled for mediocre food and a pretty decent campsite.
We didn't have time to stay another day on Cape Breton Island, but we did spend some time in Meat Cove, enjoying an excellent breakfast and then hiking downhill to the rocky beach below the campground.
On our way back, a dog joined us and escorted us back to the car. The lady who'd waited on us in the restaurant happened to be outside when the three of us walked up. She said that Champ is the resident dog, and he'll go walking with just about anybody who passes by.
Later, in the National Park Visitors Center, we learned that Meat Cove got its name because so many meat-packing ships wrecked on this northernmost extremity of the island. That's the legend, anyhow. The place was named so long ago that no one really remembers why.
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