Journey’s End In Sight
Forty-three years ago, I traveled through Quebec and the Maritime Provinces of Canada looking for something. I had just completed a particularly grueling six months Naval Nuclear Prototype training program in upstate New York, and survived a potentially explosive romantic situation. I was really tied up inside and visibly burnt-out, despite having successfully gotten through the grueling program and managed to avoid the involvement that could have been most destructive.
A fellow sailor who saw what I’d been through proposed a backpacking/hitchhiking trip during the month of leave we both had coming before reporting to our respective next ships down in Norfolk and Newport News, respectively.
That trip was remarkable. Through the first couple weeks of that journey, I really felt like something special was going to happen. By the time we reached Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, I could feel the change happening. We had been staying at Youth Hostels throughout our travels. The one we stayed at in Cheticamp, Nova Scotia, had been run by a young lady who was able to help me to release some of the painful memories I’d been carrying from my previous difficulties, and hope for better things to come.
After leaving that Youth Hostel, my friend and I were treated to some of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring natural beauty I had ever seen, as we traveled around the Cabot Trail in the Cape Breton Highlands. It was a very cleansing experience — what some would call a “mountaintop” experience.
It only took 43 years, but earlier this week, after a four-day ocean crossing, I had the great pleasure of returning to the scene of that experience. Through the years, I have wondered if my mind, and imagination, had exaggerated the stunning beauty of that scenery, and I worried that time and progress might have diminished it, even if I hadn’t exaggerated it. The answer to both wonderings was a definitive “No”!
The Cabot Trail was still every bit as beautiful, stunning, and awe-inspiring as I’d remembered it all those years. My friend had found the love of his life almost immediately after we’d reported to our respective ships down in Virginia. It took me a bit longer — nine years, actually.
The first trip I ever took with my love, thirty-four years ago, I had wanted to try to drive up to Nova Scotia from Philadelphia, to show her this stunning place. Given the car we had for that trip, and time constraints, we only made it as far as Salem, Massachussetts. On another cruise, nine years ago, we made it to Halifax, and the southern part of Nova Scotia. This time, I finally got to experience the Cabot Trail with her at my side.
It was well worth the wait. It kind of felt like coming full circle, being there with her. We ate lunch in a little roadside restaurant that had the most stunning view of Ingonish Bay. It was the perfect exclamation point to a journey that included so many other amazing sights and discoveries.
We’re now on our last sea day of the journey. After stops in Halifax and St. John, New Brunswick, we’re making our way to New York City, where we plan to be up on the main deck as we sail past the Statue of Liberty at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow morning. That will be a great way to finish this remarkable journey.
