Whisky Disappoints, Water Just Fine

Cape Breton delivers its reliably infinite variety of summertime diversions and distractions. I spent a day logging with Bob Nagel at his place. I got a load of firewood out of it, Bob a better view of the Bird Islands. He turns 80 in October but I was the one, not remarkable Robert, left arm-weary and back-sore by the day’s exertions.

Old friends Stephen Archibald and Sheila Stevenson paid us a visit. We went to Glenora to have a look at the whisky distillery, stopping on the way at MacDonald House museum. The old house commands a spectacular view of lovely Lake Ainslie and conveys a sense of lives lived by the Scots settlers 120 years ago and more.

The Cape Breton distillers are not allowed to call their product ‘scotch’. Just as well. The distillery tour disappointed: it turns out that distilling operations run only three months a year, from November to February. The malted barley is imported from Saskatchewan, the yeast from South Africa. The product does not evoke the single malts of Islay or Speyside: the folks at Lagavulin needn’t fear their Cape Breton competitors.

It finally feels like summer in Cape Breton. The mid-afternoon temperature on the deck yesterday reached 106 Fahrenheit. The old swimmin’ hole below the cabin is just the way we like it. We enjoyed a long, leisurely dip in optimal conditions: temperature ideal, slack tide, no chop, the world all our own.

Alan

Of Foundlings, Pesto Sandwiches and Role-Model Robert

Two young men came out of my woods one day while I was reading sublime Sebastian Faulks. They were at the neighbour’s place, set to cut firewood but decided they should make sure they were on the right side of the property line. Instantly I knew they must be ‘from away’. Indeed, Josh and Eric are Ontarians, Josh recently settled in Sydney. Suddenly I saw an opportunity for symbiosis: the lads want firewood, Bob Nagel wants a better view of the Bird Islands. I introduced one to the others, symbiosis flourished. In ways we are different as night and day. They were raised with religion, are strangers to beer and are models of courtesy and consideration. I am opposite in every way. But we get along anyway, have socialized several times since, met their ‘better halves’, Danielle and Joelle and Josh’s kid sister Leah, and enjoyed terrific wide-ranging conversation every time. We look forward to more.

Pal Judith came for a five-day visit. She has a grumbling knee that interferes with long-distance hiking and biking desires but we defied it. Bob joined the ladies for the annual Big Wave Poker Run. The Big Wave is the yearly festival marking the end of lobster season; the poker run gives locals and tourists the chance to board a lobster boat and enjoy a two-hour tour of the Great Bras d’Or while collecting a poker hand. None of my dearhearts came close to winning the $2,400 payoff but they had fun all the same. Good times continued. Despite the absence of a water-warming spell of hot weather we went down to the swimming hole and took our first plunge of the season. Judith comes to Bigadore for fun, frivolity, affection – and pesto sandwiches. Not necessarily in that order. She got her pesto sandwiches and, I hope, the rest as well.

We loaded Leo with the bikes and went to Mabou to ride the rail trail with Judith and Bob. Eight years ago we got Bob on a bike for the first time in decades. He doddered like an oldster. Then he acquired his own wheels and now rides like he never stopped. He’s pedalled long-distance with us in PEI and the Magdalens and once rode 100 km with us on a single day. He turns 80 in October. I dream of being his faint facsimile 18 years down the line.

Alan

Sunshine Returns to CB, Banishing the Blues

At last sunshine came to Big Bras d’Or and banished the blues. We and our guests rejoiced. Steve went to the Margaree River for a day and landed a 12-pound Atlantic salmon. He was the man of the hour: the only successful salmon fisher that day on the storied Margaree.

We enjoyed two musical extravaganzas. On Saturday the Baddeck Ceiildh featured Dwayne Cote, a Cape Breton fiddler I knew nothing about but who just happens to be the best I’ve ever heard. On Thursday at the Red Shoe Pub in Mabou we tucked into fresh Atlantic seafood while listening to Mike Hall, another fiddler extraordinaire. Our server was a delight too: think Eartha Kitt in her youthful prime.

The cabin has been the scene for several ceilidhs of our own. We feasted on lobster one evening, then Steve and Jan shared a morning of lobstering with Captain Kevin on ‘Small Change’. For the most part Steve released the speckled trout he caught at Dalem Lake but on Thursday he kept enough to provide a tasty appetizer prior to the main event of steamed mussels.

The cosmos gentled us: having made a long-sought appearance the sun lingered, for days. We took a bike ride with the kidz and The Great Nagel along the Calabash to Southside Boularderie. For Jan and me it was the first time on two wheels in six or seven weeks. We noticed we’d slipped a notch or ten in bike fitness but aim to make it up in short order.

Steve and Liz were terrific company for ten days but Air Canada took them away today, back to Winnipeg. Our faces are a bit long but it’s only five days ‘til Sakamoto makes another return to Bigador. The merriment rolls on.

Alan

Drizzle Dampens but Doesn’t Drown Downhome Delights

Ah Nova Scotia. The name means ‘New Scotland’ in the Gaelic. It is well named. A few years back we spent 28 days touring the islands and highlands of Scotland by bicycle. It rained 24 of the 28 days. Cape Breton clobbered that record last year: in a 28-day run beginning July 15 it rained 26 days. To date 2009 looks like it might run the table. I only vaguely remember the look of Kelly’s Mountain and the Great Bras d’Or washed in sunshine. Slugs are legion. Earthworms flee their inundated surrounds. My woods impersonate a Louisiana bayou. Still, we find ways to laugh. Bob Nagel is in residence together with nephew Dennis and niece-in-law Nancy. Thrown in with my sister Kathleen and bro-in-law Jon, they make merry mayhem.

Our Drolet woodstove exchanges heat and light for the birch, maple and apple I toss into its maw. ‘Stored sunshine’ I call it. Jan’s son Steve and his bride Elizabeth gave up their Winnipeg sunshine in order to share ten days of Cape Breton drizzle with us. We enjoy their company and try not to feel guilty about the weather. We are ten days into our 2009 Cape Breton summer and try mightily not to let the weather sour our days. Rain or shine, there are plenty of projects to keep me occupied: a new queen-sized wall-bed in the sleeping porch; a new deck for the camper, now serving double duty as guest house; view-improving forestry on the banks overlooking our beach.

En route to Cape Breton we visited Bob MacRae, the nephew of the great WWI 25th Battalion raider-warrior, Max. Bob couldn’t have been more generous in sharing his trove of Max relics and memories. Then he and Helen compounded the generosity by insisting on providing us lunch at Stellarton.

In Sydney we enjoyed an extended lunch with newly discovered cousins Julia and Rod. They are grandchildren of one of the WWI Livingstone soldiers and shared more relics, photographs and memories. I eat it up.

Steve and Elizabeth are with us for a few days yet. The rain does not interfere in our ability to enjoy Big Bras d’Or lobsters, Millville eggfests or Baddeck musical ceilidhs. We will prevail.

Alan