Cape Breton's treasure is its people

Everywhere I look in Cape Breton, I see blue. Somehow, patches of French blue – on barn roofs, window shutters, and in folk art – must help the people who live on this island endure long winters, depleted fisheries and mines, and rusted farm machinery cluttering its verdant hills.

Here in northern Nova Scotia, where meandering asphalt meets the stout seacoast, color and warmth are precious commodities that natives share freely with guests.

Most tourists come during the summer and fall months, when outdoor activities – such as whale watching, eagle spotting, fishing, hiking, and swimming – are plentiful. But even in early May, when snowbanks still cover Breton's highlands, the island offers a rich vacation experience.

A full 700 miles northeast of Boston, Cape Breton boasts that it has some of the warmest ocean temperatures north of the Carolinas. In fact, Nova Scotia license plates proclaim the region as "Canada's Ocean Playground." (However, in a spontaneous and ill-conceived bit of immersion journalism, this reporter dived into the deep, emerging with whimpers and goose bumps, confirming that this claim is true for perhaps two weeks in August.)

Is it worth driving the extra 10 hours past Maine's heralded midcoast to get to Cape Breton?

Definitely.

Maine's delights urge visitors to write postcards: "Wish you were here." But Cape Breton – for both its journey and its destination – compels visitors to keep journals: "So glad I have this place to myself."

Granted, there are hundred-mile stretches along the Trans-Canada Highway that make the prospect of watching "Ishtar" exciting.

And be forewarned: North of Moncton, New Brunswick, tourists often succumb to the attraction of "Magnetic Hill," a full-fledged amusement park built around ... a dirt hill. Locals tout the hill as an interactive optical illusion – cars appear to roll magically uphill – but M.C. Escher (the Dutch artist known for his illusions and geometric patterns) probably would have saved his $3.

Natural beauty abounds as the road winds north, but it is the quaint towns, like River John, that slow down speeding cars with their postcard-perfect churches and lamb's wool merchants.

After enduring Maine's overabundance of antique and outlet shops, American visitors to Cape Breton will be delighted to use their strong currency to patronize Nova Scotia's pleasant merchants.

Pewter and crystal jewelry, diverse folk art, hooked rugs, hand-dyed yarn, and maple-inspired delicacies await folks who skip the souvenir shops.

The span across the mile-and-a-half-long Canso Causeway that separates mainland Nova Scotia from the island of Cape Breton isn't particularly remarkable. As a measure of endearment, though, it speaks volumes.

Quite literally a chip off the old block, the Canso bridge was built with massive boulders cut from a coastal mountain. Looking back from the Breton end, the driver can see the naked cliff carved to connect the lands – a scar of affectionate sacrifice.

Cape Breton's roads can't help hugging the coast. Whether gripping the cliffs on the 190-mile Cabot Trail, or tugging at the softer contours of Bras d'Or Lake – a massive saltwater inlet that nearly splits the island in two – highways in Cape Breton offer spectacular vistas.

No need to brace for briny air. Go ahead, open the car windows. Better yet, get out of the car altogether. Feel the cool, clean air. Spot the wild lupines that promise perfumed air. Venture to the shore.

Early springtime on the beach might as well be the early Jurassic period as far as the number of people around. Puffy white sails, men with binoculars, even teeming sea life clinging to salt-swept rocks – all are absent. The shores here are elemental, with polished pebbles strewn over wind-cleaned granite.

Cape Breton's trails have been compared to the famous drive along California's Big Sur shoreline. They're both memorable, yet for different reasons. Big Sur reveals nature's power. Cape Breton shows her grace. And her fun. Where else can you swim in the ocean at the foot of a ski mountain, stand on a snowbank, and spot a moose, all within an hour?

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