Au Revoir, Chéticamp

The day I said farewell to Cape Breton Island, it was all gloomy and misty. I had made up my mind about the appalling hostel and second-thought that it was actually a comforting space to come home after the past five sunsets. I had tried to deal with the thought of never seeing Nate and Brianna again, the two people that helped me envision my best days in Cheticamp, and I had prepared myself for not crying on the train while reminiscing all the good, nice things happened in Cheticamp and around. I had even forgiven Zac for not being completely honest about what kind of holes I’d have trapped myself during my stay there, and decided to only write good things about the stay on his guest book and keep the rest with me. (Well, and you guys too since I actually wrote this post. I’m sorry Zac.)

We passed that house with the name Aucoin, which wasn’t actually related to Nate Aucoin at all as Nate had told me the entire history of that name once, and once again I was being reminded again about the exciting adventure we had that day. I wonder if Nate Aucoin would ever still remember that day if someone asked him about that journey in the next five years. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he would. After all, not so many times you get to hike with a stranger with a scarf around her head and brown skin and eyes, don’t you?

It wasn’t long until we crossed a road overlooking the Margaree valley. It was beautiful beyond my dictions could convey and for a second I was fully entertained. The infinite green valley along with the meandering river surrounding it, distant high grounds where patches of green woodlands decorate the hillside, and horses and cows that forage along the river banks. Such a fleeting sight, yet enough to enlighten my ambiance.

Along we went on, the cab took me to Baddeck to then embark on another trip with another shuttle to Truro, and then another train to Montreal, which would be a completely different world of urban life. I’ve left everything about the precious Cape Breton Island behind; Baddeck, the national park, Cheticamp, and all things Nova Scotia, with the hope that I would be fortunate enough to encounter another yet to happen remarkable visit again in the hidden paradises of the other side of the world.

The night before, I was lying awake on my bed, staring at the high ceiling with green starry lights from one of the projector lamp inside the room. I tried to figure out if that was the very particular feeling about leaving some real beautiful place you know you would possibly never visit again; altogether with all the good and not-so-good moments it made true. This might be it, I told myself, the feeling of never being able to sense such peacefulness of a town less visited, meet the warm-hearted people less known, and venture in a journey less taken again at the edge of the continent.

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d come back, or maybe at the very least I’d find such delight again in the other parts of the world I haven’t stepped onto. Who knows?


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