Page 74 - A Canoe Trip in Cape Breton, 1885
ISSUE : Issue 44
Published by Ronald Caplan on 1987/1/1
When informed that the 14-foot cockleshell along? side the wharf has rounded Point Aconi, and is en route from Sydney to Barra, they suggest that I am more likely to reach another port (in a very warm latitude) not mentioned on the maps of Cape Breton. But when I offer to paddle the Nettie across the tide against any one of the boats moored along the shore, and to take the result as a test of the speed and seaworthiness of the Nettie, they laugh? ingly decline the challenge. Mr. Fraser kindly shows me through his fishing es? tablishment, and explains the method of curing and drying fish. He also regales me with a tumbler- full of the egg-nog made famous in the Bad Boy's Diary. The Marion swings alongside the wharf. Her upper deck is crowded with tourists and commercial trav? ellers enjoying the fresh mountain air, and view? ing the rugged scenery. A pleasant smile and a few words about my course and the chart from the Cap? tain, and the Marion is off to sustain her growing reputation for regularity in time and passage. Once again the Nettie is wrestling with the tide of the Bras d'Or, watched by a crowd of astonished fishermen from Fraser's Landing. The spray sweeps over her from stem to stern, but she rides the waves like a cork, until a false stroke of the pad? dle submerges the low rail of my cock-pit, and, half swamped, I drift into Kelly's Cove, and turn? ing my ship bottom up, sun my jacket for a couple of hours whilst talking with the chief trader of that settlement upon the field of coal which here, as all over the mineral-strewn island of Cape Bret? on, crops up for a mine which must some day prove a source of wealth to his owner. The paddle through Seal Islands was pretty, but un- . eventful. As on the evening previous the breeze died away at sunset, and left the lake in a clock (74) COME HOME TDKENT From the instant you step into a Kent Home, you know you've crossed the border from the ordinary to the extra? ordinary. Here will be homes which are nothing short of a miracle in today's world of high priced homes. Impressive, inspiringly designed homes. With distinctive appealing exteriors and superb well-planned interiors. But at Kent, we want you to shop around. Lool< at what everyone else has to offer. Look at their designs, their fkxjr plans, their prices and especially... their quality. Look at everything you get Inside Then... Visit Kent You'll Wi builder that has made a commitment to quality... the kind of commitment that Kent Homes has made for over 25 years. Look at our homes closely. Compare design and engineering. Compare standard features. Compare construction details. And then compare value. Kent quality homes are built for life. Start living. COME HOME TO VALUE. COME HOME TO KENT. Visit our model homes today. Special showings available by appoint? ment or if your prefer welt visit you at your Kent Homes Helping to buHd Atiantic Canada for over 25 years MODEL HOME AND SALES OFFICE: Sydney Sydney-Glace Bay Highway, 539-4219 R. R. #4, Site 8, Comp. 9, Sydney, N. S. BIP 6G6 OPEN HOURS: Won.-Fri.: 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Sunday: 1:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. calm, with every rock, tree, and shrub reflected on its glassy surface. Landing opposite Man o' War Point, I sought a small white cottage situated on a clearing at the foot of the Mountain. When chatting with the lord and master of this small estate I noticed the guid wife, unasked, preparing tea. Fresh bread and clotted cream proved palatable to the tired crew of the Nettie, and after my meal I sat in the gloaming and talked with my host, who, like many dwellers along the coast of Cape Breton, has rela? tives in the far west, and some manning the fish? ing fleet of Gloucester. Aug. 8th--Speeding along on the back eddy of a strong tide, I kept close under the over-hanging cliffs of pure plaster, which literally forms the shore from Seal Island to Baddeck. Four miles from Red Point I land for breakfast, and inspect the morning catch of fish just brought to shore by my entertainer. The children are playing with the canoe, which is tossing idly on the sun-tinted waves at the end of a rudely-built wharf... This is the perfection of loafing. To lie idly in the sun with a panorama of exceeding loveliness stretched out before one, to hear the drowsy plash of the waves sounding like a lullaby; to think of nothing and to have nothing to think about; to let the steeds of the brain go browse at will; to lift the eyes from the fresh sparkling water, with its background of red cliff, topped and streaked with the white plaster, to the lovely unflecked blue of the sky; to watch through the smoke-wreaths from my pipe the play of children who know nothing of the great world you live in and whose minds are as free and unfettered from daily care and business anxiety as their sturdy brown legs and feet are guiltless of shoes and stockings. These are the sensations worth the living for, and even if they do not last, he who would not swallow the opiate is too much of the earth, earthy. 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