Animal activists will be pleased to note that he was not referring to the animal, and, we did not come crack a little red disk of wax on some old document, forever breaking confederation in this country - lords knows it doesn't need any help. What Philip meant was that they'd now been living in Nova Scotia for nearly five years and in that time they had not come to Cape Breton. Heather's people, and in fact Heather herself are from Nova Scotia, and she came here many times growing up, but it's been awhile for either of them.
I would have to agree with them. The past couple of days has felt like a laid-back, high-speed (how's that for a cognitive dissonance) tour of, not what I would necessarily call the highlights of Cape Breton, but more of just the stuff we saw along the way.
When last we spoke our intrepid heroes had gotten as far as Mabou. It's now Thursday morning and we are in Truro, which is back on mainland Nova Scotia. In those two days we cut inland from Mabou to get to Baddeck, which is along the north shore of the Bras D'or lake, cutting the island nicely in two. It is both the beginning and end of the Cabot Trail, a very, very popular, must do scenic trail that takes you up and around one side of the island, through the provincial park. We did not take the Cabot trail.
Okay, now, before I start getting notes from folk who know this area that start with "WTF!?! Whadda ya mean you didn't do the trail!?!" I'd like to take a moment and go back to a previous blog entry about not being able to do everything, and how to enjoy the things that do happen as opposed to lament the things that do not.
This is one of those times.
For me too.
So we travelled.
We travelled into Baddeck and visited the Alexander Graham Bell Museum. I will not pause long to babble on about all that we learned here. According to a voice mail from my father my blogs are too long. This didn't stop him being pleased about him being mentioned a couple of times mind you. Okay, that said, maybe this is one of those times he would argue could be edited out. Ah well. That would require that I edit.
Right, Bell. Or should we say A.G. Bell, so as to distinguish them from a company that has no doubt given many of us no end of grief. Nope, we'll just stick with Bell.
If you want to know about Bell, his work, the museum, their work, then, as I repeatedly tell Noah and Jake, go look it up. There is too much. Way too much. Super cool things I learned though include Bell's lifelong work with the deaf and his attempts to provide them with better support and tools so that they could integrate better with the rest of society. Did you know that Helen Kellar visited him in his home, Beinn Bhreagh, Baddeck? Did you even know that the inventor of the telephone had a home in Cape Breton? Or that he invited Marconi, or "Mr. Radio" as I now like to call him, to come and continue his experiments in Cape Breton? Okay, I only just called him Mr. Radio now as it was a quick way to address the whole trans-atlantic radio signal for the first time thingy.
How about hydrofoils? How about planes? And kites. So many kites.
That's Noah and Jake flying kites at the museum. Yes, you get to fly kites if you want. And it's an excellent location for it.
Did you know Bell tried, as part of efforts to save him, to eletrically try and find the bullet lodged in James Garfield's body when he was assassinated? He wasn't successful, but still, to my mind anyway, fascinating.
I'll stop about Bell now. Just go.
We then headed for Sydney, by way of St Anns.
We stopped in Syndey long enough to check our luggage in at our hotel, and then continued our travels up and along the coast through Waterford, Dominion, and Glace Bay.
Along the way to Waterford is Fort Petrie, one of the forts built during the First World War to protect Sydney harbour, and then enhanced in WW II. I'm not sure how the museum works, if it is just open air come as you are and look around, or if there are actual tours of some kind. There didn't seem to be anyone official there at the time so we just looked about.
Now the funny thing about looking about by yourself is where you end up.
That is the entrance to the bunkers at Fort Petrie. See the long grey thing at the top of the picture? That's the door. Its on rails and slides across the opening. It was closed. Mind you, it wasn't locked, so we opened it and explored a little. This was an excellent reminder to next time bring my daypack and include the mini flashlight. Cellphone flashlights just don't seem to be enough. Funny that, something a phone doesn't do well yet.
Below we found this level.
And below that we found this level.
From here we went on to Dominion by way of Waterford. We didn't stop in either of these towns; this was a simple drive-through. We did however stop at Dominion beach for a bit of play in the waves.
Here's the five of us. I don't think there has been a picture of me in the blog yet, so here you go. I'm the one in the middle. I'm sure you recognize the others by now though. An no, Marc does not have ears like Shrek, he is wearing a hat.
From Dominion we headed on to Glace Bay. Now, this is where it gets exciting, for me at least anyway.
See, of all the places in Nova Scotia that I have wanted to visit, Glace Bay is by and far the number one destination. Why, you might ask? What's that old town got that any other mining town in Nova Scotia doesn't have? Does it have to do with that Mr. Radio fella mentioned earlier, because he sent his first trans-atlantic signal from Table Head?
As you can see its gorgeous, but no, nothing to do with Marconi. I had no idea about that till the day prior when I was looking some stuff up on Trip Advisor.
Is it the Miner's Museum? Nope, but loads more on that later.
It's because of Margaret's Museum, a film starring Helena Bonham Carter and Clive Russell that I saw when it came out in 1995 and immediately fell in love with. It is based upon a novel by Sheldon Currie titled The Glace Bay Miner's Museum, which you guessed it, takes place in Glace Bay. I've read this book many, many times. I've read the stage play by Wendy Lill a number of times as well, and equally love it, though I haven't had the good fortune to see a production yet. In 1996 I actually tried getting my hands on a copy of the screen play. I mean, I love this story.
I won't explain the story here; that's why I provided you all with the link to IMDB. I will say though that the story is exactly the type of story that I like the best, and that the music in the film, as done by the Rankin family, (you may recall them being mentioned re: The Red Shoe Pub) can be heart-wrenching at times. So, my kind of music.
It left an impression.
Anyway, we drove around Glace Bay for a bit, myself getting excited when we saw the old "company houses". These are houses built by the mining companies for the miners to live in. You would think that was just grand. Well, in a way. But it also meant you lived in house owned by your boss. See how that could get complicated?
We then headed back to Sydney for dinner and a quiet evening.
The next day we were up and back out to Glace Bay again to visit The Cape Breton Miners' Museum. This, unlike The Glace Bay Miner's Museum, is an actual place that first opened, in part to mark Canada's centennial, in 1967. We knew about the museum before coming. Spending whatever time was necessary here was pretty much part of the plan since deciding to come out east.
The museum is great. It tells the story, as you would expect, of the history of mining in Cape Breton. From the first discoveries of coal over 250 years ago, to the Nova Scotia government giving a 99 year on all coal mining to The Dominion Coal company, and all the terribleness that that wrought, to the mines being expropriated by the Canadian government in 1967, to the last coal mine closing in Cape Breton in 2001. It tells the story about the miners of Cape Breton. It tells the story well.
Aside from the exhibit, and the outdoor "town" where you can visit a recreation of a "company store" amongst other things, the museum features a film that I'm pretty sure dates back to the seventies, that tells the history of coal mining and its people, and interviews several of the older, retired miners, at the time. Yes, from time to time you'll wish the film came with sub-titles, but what-the-heck.
The other thing that is featured is a tour of the mine. There is a mine beneath the museum. It was never a working mine, as it was actually built as part of the museum in 1967. So you get to walk down about 80 meters, not 800. And you get to stay "on land" (or at least under it) as opposed to most of the mines extracting coal from the Sydney coal fields which stretch out under the water out to Newfoundland/Labrador.
Totally authentic? Pretty much. Totally awesomely cool? Yes.
Here's the entrance.
The mine is a traditional room and pillar mine. The ceiling height starts at about 6' 5", and then gets lower, eventually to about four foot nothin'.
Our guide through the above was Abbie, a retired coal miner, and a great story teller. True stories. Some are the history of mining, some are the basics of coal. Mostly though, the stories are of the miners and their families. Of what it was to live that life. Of the hardship of the work, and the working conditions, and of the hardship of the living conditions that Cape Breton miners lived under because of the well below poverty level wages forced upon them by the Dominion Coal Company, BESCO, and those that came after.
I knew much of this history coming into it. It's a totally different hearing it from Abbie. Abbie is 76. He lived much of this story, and his father, grandfather, and six uncles lived it too. I won't even attempt to tell it. I will say though that I have no idea what "work" really is, or what "hardship" really means. I've been very fortunate to have lived comfortably my entire life. And I get to use my head for work, so it's essentially play-time, as I like using my head. Have there been things that I've wanted that I couldn't get? For sure. Have there been things that I actually need to live that I haven't had? Never. That this was the case for people living in Cape Breton through easily the first half of the 20th century I find phenomenally wrong. I have a difficult time comprehending it. Perhaps I am naive.
This museum tells a story that really, really matters. Go.
After the museum we continued our journey with the next stop being Louisburg Fort, just for a quick looksee.
Along the way another beach, which provided the opportunity for Noah to beat me in a foot race. We've not raced in a long time, and I, having being putting it off in order to not lose my alpha-male dominance of the pack status, realized it was time to get on with it. (Note that those are not us in the distance, but those tracks are ours.)
Now, Jake will be nice and say that it was pretty close for awhile. I will be honest and say that Noah had me from the start. That guy can run. I've not seen him run as fast as this, ever. Maybe he was spurred on by the opportunity to kick his Dad's butt. All I I know is that it was fantastic to watch him go and clean my clock. I am just grateful that he did not strike a Usain Bolt pose at the end of it all.
We got to the fort. It was closing. Ah well, not the only time this sort of thing will happen on this trip I am sure. Another reason to come back again, as if we actually need a reason.
It was at this point though that we said farewell to Heather and Meara, Philip having left earlier in the day to catch a flight to Montreal for work.
We drove.
We drove back through Cape Breton to the causeway onto mainland Nova Scotia; the same bridge we had crossed to come onto the island, but now with a chance to get a shot of this, which I couldn't do the first time because I cannot rotate my head like Linda Blair. Nor can I walk upside down like a spider, but that is besides the point. See, right besides it in fact.
We drove on through into the evening and arrived in Truro, our end point for the day, and our launch pad for heading back home to Toronto.
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