The Naked Truth About Nova Scotia

While it should be expected you’ll encounter the occasional man during a women-only walking tour, I didn’t expect that the first one I’d meet would be naked except for a pair of hiking boots.

“I’m a little surprised,” admitted Angela Chisholm, our tour leader as I scurried to rejoin the group. “Nova Scotia’s salt wind can be tough on vegetation – not to mention the nether regions. But there’s a nudist beach nearby so perhaps he’s just stretching the boundaries.”

Stretching the boundaries is a common theme for Scott Walking Adventures (http://www.scottwalking.com/). In 2007, the company will celebrate 15 years of offering “adventures for the inquisitive traveller.” For many clients, the clothing compulsory tours provide an opportunity to stretch their physical endurance. For others, especially solo women or the over-50 crowd, they offer a convenient way to explore places they might not go on their own. I was participating in the popular, all-inclusive six-day Seacoast to Bay Nova Scotia tour covering up to 10 kilometres of easy daily walking.

“We classify trips on a scale of difficulty from Easy to Challenging based on factors such as distance, terrain and elevation,” said Angela.

Our hike began at Crystal Crescent Beach Provincial Park, 20 minutes outside Halifax. There, an 8.5 kilometre trail followed a ridge of windswept grassy sand dunes until it veered inland over soft peat bog and barrens. Just one small stretch of Nova Scotia’s 7600 kilometres of coastline, it offered striking views of the Atlantic, a hilly terrain and the unexpected au naturel encounter.

That evening, in Kaulbach House, an upscale B & B overlooking Lunenburg’s colourful schooner-filled harbour, I didn’t have time to explore the UNESCO World Heritage Site. I was too busy rubbing cream on my feet wondering why I’d packed bedroom slippers instead of an extra pair of hiking boots.

“Don’t worry,” said Angela over dinner. “Although today’s distance was short, the rocky and uneven terrain made it challenging. Tomorrow will be easier.”

She was right. Getting to know the other hikers took my mind off my aching feet. Our group of four women hailed from Denmark to Oregon and as we hiked to Gaff Point, one of the south coast’s last undeveloped headlands, we discovered that despite our geographic differences, we had a lot in common. By dinnertime at White Point Inn, an historic lodge and spa, we were sharing platters of fresh lobster, cedar-planked salmon and other regional cuisine.

We bonded even more at Kejimkujik Seaside Adjunct National Park. One of Nova Scotia’s least disturbed shorelines, it provides an important habitat for marine mammals and birds such as the endangered Piping Plover.

“Oh look, a baby seal,” I said, not quite believing our good fortune. It was less than an arm’s length away. But all was not well. The seal was obviously sick. Mothering instincts on full alert, one woman stood guard while another contacted Parks Canada.

“It’s the eighth pup to beach itself this summer,” said the official who took charge. Sombred, we wondered if it was a sign of something ominous or just nature’s way of balancing itself.

Next stop was Bear River First Nations Heritage Centre near Digby on the province’s north coast. The Mi’kmaq have long recognized the healing properties of the plants growing in their region’s bogs, forests and barrens and recently opened a Medicine Trail to share their knowledge with the public.

“The trail is a spiritual place that represents our relationship with Mother Earth,” explained Robert McEwan, a robust middle-aged Mi’kmaq whose father had been a highly-respected wilderness scout. As we paused at the sweat lodge, he told stories of tobacco offerings, sacred Fire Keepers and spiritual rebirth.

“How old were you when you first experienced a sweat lodge?” I asked.
“Me? I’m too scared to go inside,” he said.
Turns out he was also afraid of woodpeckers and water. Just when I was convinced we’d encountered the only ‘fraidy cat wilderness guide, he revealed his true passion. He wove baskets. Out of road kill.
“It takes up to 3,000 porcupine quills to make one basket,” he explained.
“And what if you prick yourself?” I asked, noticing the barbs.
“If it’s less than 3 inches deep, I just rip it out,” he said, with barely a wince.

The surprises kept coming. After encountering the world’s highest tides at the Bay of Fundy, we ended our tour with a 10 kilometre hike along a 17th century Acadian dike. It seemed no more arduous than a walk to the corner store. I realized I’d been hiking past 300-year old Hemlocks, sliding down rain-soaked rocks and scrambling up steep cliffs for days without complaint.

As I looked across the Minas Basin, I recalled my earlier encounter with the naked hiker. He’d been standing on a granite boulder gazing toward the Atlantic, much as Christopher Columbus might have before sailing for the new world. Today, I’d made my own discovery. I didn’t have to travel far or go buck naked to stretch my boundaries. Adventure was just steps away.

For information on outdoor adventures in Nova Scotia, visit www.novascotia.com or call 1-800-565-0000