Life in the Slow Lane

Dance to the music whenever you can…🕺💃

“Sorry that you are now in the habit of saying you’re sorry,” grinned the lock handler in response to my comment that Joe and I now find ourselves apologizing if we come close to bumping into each other on the boat or when out and about, even rounding our “o’s” Canadian style. This habit echos the deep, sincere and polite behavior that is a hallmark of the people in Cape Breton and Nova Scotia. The two lock handlers swiftly walked ahead of our boat and tied Adiona to the wall, not part of their job and at the day’s end, cheerfully chatting with us all the while. They made sure to secure the boat near a picnic table we could use, close to the outhouses if we wanted, a short walk from town.

Music and travels

At the marina, the day before, the dock handlers assured us it would be fine to stay throughout the day so we could finish our chores without extra charge. At the local Foodland, the cashiers grew very concerned as we packed our cases of bubbly and sizable grocery haul onto a little rolling cart and into a number of bags. “Take the cart,” they insisted. “That is too long of a walk. Just please remember to return it when you’re done.” Upon returning the cart and dashing in to buy the cucumber I forgot, I noticed the line extended well into the frozen food section but the cashiers and customers carried on their unhurried pace, customers waiting to be called to the registers. I observed this on our last visit to St. Peter’s. Big burly men, dressed in plaid, grilling supplies in hand, waited meekly between families with squirrelly children, behind older gray-haired seniors, all in some sense of camaraderie. People caught up, made a few polite jokes that cooking the food would be faster than waiting in line, but a refined, restrained atmosphere reigned.

In Baddeck, guests- and the hosts- at the Kitchen Party reached out to me afterwards to see if we needed a ride to rent a car so we could hike. Why would we ever want to leave this place? Bras d’Or, loosely translated, means golden arms or arms of gold. We felt fully embraced by these golden arms. Little to no fog. Hundreds of private, protected anchorages along this craggy coastline. Minimal tide(about 1 foot). Little commercial development. Warm waters for swimming, as the temperature of much of the lake(at least on top) hovers around 72 degrees F. As an UNESCO protected watershed with little industry, efforts are made to keep the lake a pristine environment.

And then the music! The party! A Kitchen Party! For the uninitiated, I learned that a Kitchen Party is a long-standing tradition in Cape Breton. They can be planned, as this one was, or spontaneous. People gather for food and libations, toting along instruments and folk of all ages. They may spill out into whatever other space is available as the exuberance of the evening grows.

Paul and Gaye, our Salty Dawg hosts in Baddeck, put together quite an occasion for our group on a very short notice. Misty, the owner of Cabot Trail Tours carted us from the pier to Paul’s house a few miles outside the town. Two grills filled with burgers and hot dogs and tables groaning with smoked fish spread, salads and other tempting fare awaited us. The desserts! Baked by Minnie, Paul’s sister in law, they all needed to be sampled. Carrot cake, blueberry cake, gingerbread and chocolate- each as delicious as the last. The music had begun before we walked in the door, a crowd of friendly, local faces greeting us. Flo Sampson, a well respected Cape Breton musician commanded the keyboards, singing from her Cape Breton songbook and taking requests for everything from sea shanties to The Beach Boys. Flo brought along her nephew, Greg, who lent his voice and guitar skills for much of the evening. Flo, mother and teacher of famous songwriter, Gordie Sampson(songwriter for Carrie Underwood, Keith Urban, Faith Hill and so many more), commanded us to the dance floor. We obeyed. We knew from the first note we were in the presence of a master. Fast friends were made as we circled, twirled and swayed. A few slow waltzes brought couples onto the floor and at least one grandfather- granddaughter duo.

All too soon, Misty arrived to drive us back to the pier. As the stragglers, we began gathering cups and moving furniture, trying to restore some normalcy to Paul’s custom built log home.

The glow of the evening extended through the rest of our stay in Baddeck and our tour of the 186-mile(298 km) Cabot Trail; bumpy roads taking us from one beautiful vista to the next. We wove our way through tiny hamlets, stopping along the highway for photo opps. We kept our eyes peeled for a moose sighting but did not see one. Our driver paused at Ingonish, the site of a grand old-style resort and stopped at the beautiful cathedral in Cheticamp. Cheticamp is also famous for the rug hooking industry that Lilian Burke, tutor to Alexander and Mabel Bell’s grandchildren, helped to popularize. Cheticamp is also infamous for Les Suêtes, strong south east winds that sweep down the steep plateau clocking over 120 mph.

In Baddeck, we explored the Alexander Graham Bell museum, a must-see. The exhibits illuminated the work that Bell did in the areas of speech for the hearing impaired. He expanded upon his father’s work in teaching visible speech, publishing a book that allowed people who could not hear speech to produce it through specific phonetic placement. He also worked to develop and teach sign language, institute the use of a spectrogram as a means of biofeedback, and worked as an advocate for the deaf community. His views and work have come under scrutiny in recent years, as the focus of his energy in this area was to educate people to become proficient lip readers and he was a strong proponent of “oralism.” This was a time, remember, before standardized sign language existed, and people communicated through finger spelling, which is tedious and limiting. The view that is troubling, no matter how well-intentioned, is Bell purported that people whose deafness was congenital, should not be allowed to have children together. Mabel, Alexander’s wife, deaf as a result of scarlet fever at a young age ,was a very skilled “oral” communicator. She did much to champion parental involvement in education, leading to the development of the Canadian Parent Teacher Association. She promoted education for women, started a Montessori school in Washington, D.C. and later served as the Montessori Association’s first president. Mabel also encouraged Bell’s research in the area of flying machines, organizing a corporation devoted to this work, and was an avid gardener. The Bells shared a voluminous correspondence- love letters written during the times they were apart. Obviously, as seen in the amount of space I just devoted to all this description, partially fueled by my interest in Bell since a report I did in second!! grade and my career as a speech pathologist. The accomplishments of the Bells made a strong impression on us, but the lively, honest dialogue in their love letters was the biggest surprise.

Images from Baddeck, Bell’s talking glove, crab trap, scenes from the trail and cathedral on Cheticamp, the “Salty Dawgs.”

All too soon, our group gathered for the final dinner, only about half of the Salty Dawgs who began the rally still present. Boats and their crew left early for myriad reasons, checking in as they sailed either north to Newfoundland or points beyond or back toward New England. Our WhatsApp chat continues to ping with travel updates, favorite anchorages, advice and future sailing plans.

Atsa and Adiona headed over to Washabuck River where we enjoyed exploring by kayak and sharing dinner on Atsa before the next round of wind and storms. After several nights there, we left to take in the music festival at Iona but diverted to Maskell’s Harbor due to- what else- weather! We learned from cruisers on White Bird, a boat we met in Maine in 2021, (another small world moment)music was cancelled as there was a lightening strike right before the concert. After more kayaking and a swim in Maskell’s, we weighed anchor and set off to the Indian Islands, to visit the Eskosani and hide again- another storm in the offing. 💙💕⛵️