I will not cheat telling Nova Scotia is a paradise. It’s not unless you are a retired man and you have a bus-sized camper docked for whole summer in some provincial park.
It isn’t exaggerated to say that for the first days we didn’t see any people in our age, except a few in Halifax on Wednesday evening.
From my notes, it seems the biggest excitement was coming when I noticed beautiful vintage cars on the highways and small countryside roads. Also when I was waking up before 6am and looking at sunrise – this unfortunately went, along with jetlag.
Prince Edward Island was even worse. I am trying to find some strong element from there and I have nothing besides the bridge. A 10-kilometer concrete monster, connecting Prince Edward to New Brunswick. No wonder why you have to pay only when you want to exit the island. Lobsters, ghosts of „Anne of Green Gables” or promises of unbelievable beaches couldn’t keep us here more than 24 hours.
But after all, it was my dreamy trip. Moments on Trans Canada Highway with woods and lakes on both sides and vanishing point in front of me, freedom caused by never-ending open range, this is how I imagined road trip in Canada.
At the end when we approached Cape Breton Island, landscape changed drastically. Where mountains meet ocean, we found ourselves in a more than proper place, in a tiny campsite in Meat Cove. So perfect that it was hard to hit the road to Newfoundland ferry on the next day.
Now, when I am looking at my pictures, I see many of them as they could be taken anywhere, that I didn’t have to cross the Atlantic to make them. But I actually had to, because those are my precious memories from the first trip to America with my husband.