The Trip Home

After our time at Cape Saint Mary's, we head north to Argentia to catch the ferry back to Nova Scotia.

The sun appears as we drive north along the coast of Placentia Bay. But when we board the MV Smallwood, the fog is hovering literally feet from the bow before our departure. The ferry is still running on only 3 of its 4 engines, so the trip lasts 18 hours instead of the usual 16. We kill some time watching Bug and Debbie Greene's show of bastardized Newfoundland folk songs and rude jokes (which Jude enjoys) before spending an uncomfortable night of fitful sleep on the floor of the "TV lounge".

The Smallwood arrives in North Sydney, Nova Scotia around 9:30 the following morning. After watching the ship dock, we head down to the car deck. As I get in the car, I notice the interior dome light is on, shining dimly. "Did you just turn this on?" I ask Jude. "Um, I don't think so" she replies. A few moments later, cars all around us start their engines as the bow door swings open. I gingerly turn the ignition key. The starter makes a weak "click, click, click" and then quits. A crew member walks down the line of cars in front of us signaling each to leave. I hop out of our dead vehicle and simple say "Dead battery". Without missing a beat, he skips past us and signals the cars behind us to go around us. Soon we are the last vehicle on the car deck.

After five minutes, two crew members stroll up. "Dead battery? Okay, truck's on the way." Jude pretends she doesn't know me. A Marine Atlantic pickup appears at the bow door and pulls up next to us. I return to the drivers seat. The crewman hooks up jumper cables and, with the loud thrumming of the car deck ventilation fans drowning out his words, pantomimes for me to try and start the engine. The engine cranks and starts. After thanking the truck driver, we drive off the ferry, waving to the remaining car deck crew hanging about the boarding ramp. We spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon driving around the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island. By 5:00 PM we reach Margaree and stop at the local information center to ask about places to stay. Unlike Newfoundland, all the B&Bs in the area are already full. We finally find a cabin to rent, the last available, in the town of Troy, about 50 miles distant. As we leave the info center, Jude spots a notice advertising a Ceilidh - a Celtic dance and music gathering - from 6 to 8:00 in Mabou, just down the road.

The ceilidh is at the Red Shoe Pub and as we pull up we see the small building is packed. We park away's down the street, not sure if we really want to endure a crowded pub. Just then a dozen or so folks leave, so we decide to at least have a look. A gentleman at the door greets us, apologizing for how crowded it is. He explains "I have no separate tables open, but you could sit with AJ - he's a friendly fellow."

The musicians are on a short break when we take our seats and I introduce myself and Jude to AJ. He returns my introduction in a thick Scottish brogue that I can barely understand. He than flags down a waitress and orders another Alexander Keiths. He's obviously a favorite of the wait staff.

The music resumes and it's truly something to behold - just a pianist and fiddle player, but what a sound. AJ leans over and tells us "They'll be dancing soon." Sure enough, a few moments later, a dozen or so patrons get up, push a few tables aside and begin a little step dance in a circle in front of the musicians.

After the dancing the musicians take another short break and AJ explains who's who and which musician is from where, and who'll be traveling to Scotland next month to play at which festival and who just returned from England and so on and so forth.

The fiddler and piano player return along with a snare drum player for another round of music.  AJ keeps the beat with a steady thump of his foot under the table.

Finally, 8:00 rolls around and the music ends with a loud round of applause. Jude and I bid farewell to AJ and head down the road to our cabin. The next day we return to the US and our complicated lives. It's been a great trip.