I'm currently waiting out the rain at the public library in Ingonish. The last couple of days have shown me a bit of everything I should expect on such an adventure. I've been to and mostly through Cape Breton Highlands National Park and I've seen many fine offerings along the way.

As I sent my last message, I was joined in the C@P site by two other cyclists from Brooklyn. We shared stories like a group of Cape Bretoners before I headed onward. I was a bit disappointed by the town of Cheticamp; stopping only for a quick break at Tim Horton's. "Toujours frais," read the sign. I rode from there to the National Park visitors centre where I met a cycling trio on their way out. Their tales of hills were unsurprising. It was quite evident that they were glad to be done with it. The route thereafter was guided by the shoreline, obeying the many tall and long hills. I stopped at numerous scenic outlook points and was never disappointed. I was often astonished to look back at the road, asking myself, "did I just ride that?" The road returned to sea level at Cap Rouge, just in time to scale one side of French Mountain. This 455 meter ascent was stretched across 6km of road. It doesn't sound bad, but it's bad. Believe me. Thankfully, what goes up must come down. The descent back to Pleasant Bay was long and speedy. I stopped midway and had some other visitors take my picture (see flickr.)

Pleasant Bay was cool overnight and into the morning. Such made for a hasty departure. Re-entering the park, I stopped at a picnic area to make breakfast. My Brooklyn friends had camped there and were on their way out. After breakfast, I rode a more gruelling 4km uphill to the 457 meter North Mountain, meeting my new friends at the top. We three shared in our recent success and I joined them for the next 30km to Cape North. There, they continued on the Cabot Trail while I took a lengthy detour to visit Bay St. Lawrence and Meat Cove. The ride featured views unlike any I'd seen before, including the Marshy North Harbour Bay and the serene Deadman's Pond. I made my way back across some of the hilliest terrain I've ever ridden in my life to White Point. This was the most stunning place I've seen thus far on my trip. The town is completely and naturally protected from the ocean by a long mossy point which made for a spectacular campsite. The evening was the warmest of the past three and I made company with another solo tourist (driving) from Toronto.