MacIntosh Brook to Neil’s Harbour   |   Campsite: 46.81292° N, 60.31991° W

Wind. It blows my tent around in violent fits. It is not a cold wind. I slept in shorts and a short-sleeve shirt. The wind will persist all day from morning, all through my 1.5-hour 457-metre climb of North Mountain, through a thick fog until I reach the Big Intervale campground. I am able to buy some coffee and lunch from the Cabot Trail Food Market in the village of South Harbour, through to my desperately-frantic search to pitch the tent beside a church in order to get out of the rain and wind in the village of Neil’s Harbour 47 kilometres down the road by 4:00. Today was not fun. I stopped taking photographs halfway into the day, as the fog was so thick it prevented anything from being recorded. For most of the walk, I was unable to see 100 metres in any direction. Today was similar to much of the walk through the province of New Brunswick—the walking simply served as distance to be covered in order to fulfill my objective. So far the weather in Nova Scotia has been bearable at best. Either it has been amazingly clear or depressingly cloudy, foggy, windy, rainy, and damp. Today was absolute shit, smeared with a moist shit sauce. By 4:15, after a few failed phone attempts to gain lodging, the tent is raised between an old church and an adjacent cemetery. An inconsistent rain falls against the tent, driven onto the rain fly by a strong, gusting wind. The highlights of my day: not being apprehended by park rangers illegally camping at MacIntosh Brook; lunch of poutine and apple cider purchased at the Cabot Trail Food Market in the village of South Harbour—even if it had to be eaten sitting on a rock beside the road, again, as forced to do in New Brunswick. I am grateful for being warm and relatively dry in the tent by 4:00, having reached the village of Neil’s Harbour. There is not much to comment on here…

Today’s distance walked: 47.23 km    |    Total distance walked: 2,436.83 km

“No Boats on Sunday pays homage to a time in Halifax when hard-working locals restricted boat traffic on Sundays. This was their way to enjoy time with family and friends. We believe in the importance of being present in the moment, and truly experiencing the things we love most.” — No Boats on Sunday cider can copywriting