When Things Fall Apart — Cape Breton, Nova Scotia

Meat Cove, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Wednesday, August 5, 4:00 a.m.

When I travel, I usually use an eye mask so I do not wake up too early. This time, I do not. I do not want to miss the gift of witnessing the birth of a new day.

By 8:30, I am on my way to Gampo Abbey, a Western Buddhist monastery.

My admiration for Pema Chödrön's wisdom began soon after I left on this life-changing journey in 2022. I do not remember how I came across her teachings, but her book When Things Fall Apart became my bible. It opened me further to the idea that we are part of something bigger than ourselves and introduced me to Buddhist philosophy, which I feel deeply connected to today.

Stopping at Gampo Abbey, where Pema taught for many years and wrote When Things Fall Apart, feels like a spiritual stop. I know she will not be there. I just feel I need to see this place with my own eyes.

I walk around the garden and take the short hike nearby, trying to breathe in the peaceful feeling.

I am listening to When Things Fall Apart again as I find myself spiraling down…

Unfortunately, the black flies chase me away. My neck is full of bites and swollen again.

I continue along the Cabot Trail and stop at the Skyline Trail gate. The only parking reservation I could get is for Friday afternoon, but I am relieved to learn I can hike early in the morning as long as I am out by 8:00.

Next stop, Gypsum Mine Lake.

It is another hot, humid day, and the idea of jumping into cool water sounds fabulous. Unfortunately, I packed my bathing suit instead of putting it on, and there is nowhere to change.

Oh well. I empty my pockets and step in. This is heaven!

I stay immersed in the cool water, trying to cool not just my body but my soul as well. I have been running on a low battery for a while. Meat Cove was a recharge, but it did not last long.

The heat and lack of shade are slowly peeling away my energy and my happy spirit. Egypt Falls no longer sounds appealing, so I end up at the library in Chéticamp.

I did not realize how remote Cape Breton would feel. It creates another layer of challenge, especially when I need to find somewhere to sleep.

The librarian suggests a spot for the night. It even has an ocean view.

However, I cannot get a break… It is too hot to stay inside my car and too buggy to sit outside. I am already swollen from the bites. I search again and again for a room, but everything is booked.

Sleep barely happens. At 4:15 a.m., my alarm goes off. It is time to hike the Skyline Trail. By 5:30, there is enough light to begin.

The trail is flat and easy, and about an hour later I reach the end. I stay for a while, enjoying the view and watching shadows moving through the ocean. I am sure one of them is a whale, which is so cool!

By 7:30, I am back at my car, already covered in sweat.

At this point, I do not care if I am breaking any rules. I stop at one of the national park campgrounds, hoping I can sneak in for a shower. Mission accomplished!

The simple comforts most of us take for granted can become an uplifting experience. Five minutes of washing away the sweat and heaviness feels priceless.

Next: Louisbourg!

I have a few hours of driving ahead, but first I stop at a laundromat. While waiting, I call around and find a campground just outside Louisbourg with an available site and a paid shower. Perfect! I am all set for tonight. Or so I think.

When I arrive, I just cannot stay. The campground is neglected, and the shower feels like a health hazard. I am hungry, frustrated, and unable to pick myself up.

I choose a nearby restaurant and drive there in silence. 

The food is great, but somehow I have lost my appetite. I am eating without enjoying any of it.

Next to the restaurant is a small parking lot by a baseball field. I park in the dark, trying to be incognito. The only one who notices me is a barking dog. Eventually, he settles down, and the silence of the night wraps around me.

I need the silence because my brain is so loud right now. I lie down on my bed knowing I need to make a change. It’s funny how, for the second time, Canada is teaching me the beauty of surrender.

It takes only a second to cancel my reservation in Halifax and make the final decision:

It is time to head back home.

The beauty of surrender is the relief it brings when you make the right decision for yourself. Through all these difficult experiences living in my car and struggling to find relief, one thought keeps moving through my heart. I can at least see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have the choice to head back to comfort. But what about all the women who are forced to live in their cars with no exit?

Maybe it is time to give my vision a chance. I just have no idea how to begin. I hope I will find the way.