National Parks Traveler

Scenic views from the lookout on Le Vieux Chemin Du Cap-Rouge Trail/Darcy Rhyno

Cycling Cape Breton Highlands National Park

By Darcy Rhyno

Cycling west from Cheticamp, the road itself tells me where Nova Scotia’s Route 30 ends and the highway through Cape Breton Highlands National Park begins. Both are part of the Cabot Trail, but crossing the Cheticamp River into the park, the quality of the road surface visibly improves. It widens and the blacktop is newer without the patches, cracks and bumps typical of the provincial section.

And yet, as I ride past the admission kiosk and start up the hill between the imposing face of Le Grande Fallaise to my right and the Gulf of St. Lawrence to my left, I feel uneasy. The paved shoulder is narrow and a recent rain has carved ruts into the gravel shoulder all the way up to the park’s first lookoff. The view back towards Petit Etang Beach at the mouth of the Cheticamp River is worth the work, but I can see that if I was cycling in the other direction, I would be on a blind crest squeezed between the single lane traffic and the guardrail on a very narrow shoulder. When an 18-wheeler rumbles by, I feel even more uneasy.

Riding on, the grade continues to steepen as the road undulates along the most photographed section of the park — the western, seaside edge of the Cabot Trail. Seven kilometres (4.4 miles) along, I reach the base of French Mountain. On the far side of the steep valley, I can make out tiny figures silhouetted against the clouds at the end of the park’s best known trail, Skyline. From the base of French Mountain, it’s a 5.5-kilometre (3.4-mile) climb at a nine to 12 per cent incline. This is where the road is much improved after the major repairs of the past few years. It’s a relief to find the paved shoulders significantly widened and new guardrails installed. Although the road is steep switchbacks all the way up, I feel much safer. These repairs are a welcomed step toward achieving the park’s management plan objective of becoming a premier cycling destination. Long-term goals include bike paths for sharing of the highway and rest stops for cyclists including bike stands and water stations.

View from the first lookout on the western side of Cape Breton Highlands National Park/Darcy Rhyno

In the days that follow, I drive the rest of the Cabot Trail by car and find widened paved shoulders and new asphalt inside the park. The newest is on the most difficult and dangerous section at Cape Smokey where cyclists face a 10-kilometre (six-mile) climb up a 12 to 15 per cent incline. The exception is North Mountain where the shoulder remains narrow and is often tight against the guardrail or the exposed rock of the mountain. Drainage channels are set into the shoulders, forcing cyclists into the single-lane traffic. In the enclave sections through small communities like Pleasant Bay, the shoulder often disappears, and the paved surface is again rutted, patched and bumpy. For a short stretch through Ingonish Beach, cyclists can relax on the only designated bike lane through the park or its enclaves.

Before reaching the top of French Mountain, I turn around and head back. For the views and the challenges, it’s been an exhilarating ride. But I’m worn out, so I head back to the Cheticamp Campground — one of seven in the park — where I pitched my tent next to the river, grab a shower and take the short drive into town. Cheticamp is a French Acadian community with a rich history, a lively cultural scene and plenty of visitor services such as restaurants, pubs, shops and boat tours.

At Les Trois Pignons Centre Culturel et Galerie, I find exhibits that tell the story of Cheticamp’s 240-year Acadian presence. Two characters in that story stand out. The first is Marguerite Gallant who spent her life collecting most of the artifacts in the exhibits, rescuing many from the elements. The other is Elizabeth LeFort considered the greatest rug hooker in a community known for the craft. She was the first to create portraits of historical figures in her work. Likenesses of American presidents hang in the Whitehouse, of the Queen in Buckingham Palace and of the Pope in the Vatican.

A rug hooking demonstration at Les Trois Pignons Centre Culturel et Galerie/Darcy Rhyno

The combination of the national park and adjacent communities like Cheticamp makes for a doubly rewarding cycling experience along the Cabot Trail. But I’m also here to explore the park’s much less celebrated off-road mountain biking opportunities. The park itself barely acknowledges them. Seven trails are listed as open to off-road cyclists, but all seven are hiking trails first. According to the park’s management plan, it’s looking into developing more mountain biking trails.

Back at the Cheticamp Campground, I hop on the bike and find the entrance to one of the seven, Salmon Pools. It follows the Cheticamp River about five kilometres (3.5 miles) upstream to the site of a rock fall where it ends abruptly. The trail is wide and, with the exception of a small hill at the beginning, entirely flat. About halfway up the trail, the shallow, gravel-bottomed river suddenly narrows, shooting through channels carved into the bedrock, then slows into deep pools.

The ride is so intriguing, when I return, I sign up for a guided walk on the same trail with Interpretation Coordinator Miranda Dodd. A family of five joins us. Dodd wows the kids with stories of the salmon lifecycle, the creation of the half billion year old volcanic basalt rock face and the wildlife that lives in this narrow valley — black bears, eagles, salamanders and the Atlantic salmon themselves. Parks Canada is assessing the status of this species, which might yet be scheduled under the Species at Risk Act within the current management plan.

Parks Canada Interpretation Coordinator Miranda Dodd on the Salmon Pools trail/Darcy Rhyno

As we walk, Dodd solves the mystery of the uprooted trees piled here and there along the riverbank. On August 22, 2015, a powerful flash flood rampaged down the valley. Dodd points out one part of the river where rocks are stacked into arms that end at the water’s edge. These were placed here strategically during a project in partnership with the Cheticamp River Salmon Association to encourage the river to dig deeper channels, thus providing better habitat for salmon.

“The force dug out some channels on its own and rearranged some of the rocks we put in.” But, Dodd adds, “in other places it deposited sediment, filling in some areas that we didn’t want filled in.”

The same flood explains an oddity about the Cheticamp Campground, which comes into sight immediately upon entering the park. An interpretive centre sits beside the road, but to get to the campground behind it, I have to drive up the highway several hundred metres, turn onto a wooded road and follow it back under the highway and into the campground on the other side.

Fishing for salmon on the Cheticamp River/Darcy Rhyno

Before the flood, most of the campground was located here in this wooded area. Dodd was working late that afternoon when the rain started. “It was a steady downpour,” she says. “Visitors told us their campsite was two inches under water. One of my colleagues went out to check and immediately started evacuating the campground. It poured for four or five hours.”

Trees snapped, roads washed out and cars were carried into the woods. Campers spent the night in the local firehall. By the time it was over, the campground, including the playground, was entirely under water. Park management decided it was too dangerous to keep the campground where it was, so they moved it to the other side of the highway. Today, 122 sites, including 10 oTENTiks, are available here.

The next day, I head to the other two trails designated for cycling that are accessible from the Cheticamp Campground. A short ride up the highway is the entrance to the five-kilometre (three-mile) Le Chemin du Buttereau. After a steep climb that swings 180 degrees to the north, the trail flattens atop a long hill for a pleasant ride through a mossy forest. At the end of what was a cart path in use from the late 1700s to the 1930s, I find the remains of an Acadian settlement — three stone foundations and a communal well.

Resting on Le Chemin du Buttereau trail/Darcy Rhyno

Near the end of the trail, a roadblock stands where a bridge once linked this promontory to the barrier beach across the mouth of the Cheticamp River. The remainder of the ride back to the highway is along Le Buttereau, which amounts to the other end of Le Chemin du Buttereau. I follow it to the highway where I pick up Le Vieux Chemin du Cap-Rouge. It rises steeply from the highway until it reaches a lookoff. From here, I have a grand view of the ocean and the outcrop rising from it called Le Bloc.

The grassy trail continues above and parallel to the Cabot Trail for another four kilometres (2.5 miles) to the Trout Brook picnic area. This is a section of the old Cabot Trail. Along it I find more signs of former Acadian settlement. The Cabot Trail opened in 1932 followed four years later by the park itself. Because this section was so dangerous, it was soon closed and replaced with the current route. Most families relocated to Cheticamp, many taking their homes with them.

Riding Le Chemin du Buttereau trail/Darcy Rhyno

I return to the campground to pack up and explore the other trails, all on the other side of the park. The Clyburn Valley and Freshwater Lake trails near Ingonish are designated as open to off-road cycling, but the latter is too short to be of interest. Like Salmon Pools, Clyburn follows a river valley. The first section skirts the historic Highland Links golf course built in 1939 by a small army of manual labourers with picks, shovels and horses. Today, it’s often rated among the top courses in the world. The rest of the trail reaches four kilometres into a mixed forest with ponds, meadows and huge boulders.

Cooling off at Mary Anne Falls/Darcy Rhyno

Besides the seven trails designated for cycling, many of the gravel roads in the park are suitable for mountain biking. Perhaps the most rewarding is the Branch Pond Lookoff road, which leads to Mary Anne Falls. I park my vehicle near the Broad Cove Campground, cycle a few hundred metres along the Cabot Trail to the road, ride the six kilometre gravel road, watching for cars on the many tight turns, then walk with my bike the last 200 metres (655 feet) from the parking lot to the falls. It's well worth the dusty ride. I change into my swimsuit and go for a truly refreshing swim in the pool beneath the roaring falls.

This year when organized park experiences are on hold, it’s a good time to take a different approach to exploring Cape Breton Highlands. Even on a short visit, I’ve travelled more trails than I could have on foot. Riding off-road cycling trails and roads in a park that’s just discovering its potential as a mountain biking destination proves rewarding. I float on my back and watch kids braver than I leap from the rock ledges above, the cool current washing away my fatigue.