Cape Breton Island

“Look here - on the map,” Jim said pointing, “they have whales printed right there. It’s a guarantee.” He paused and looked intently at the illustration. “I think they’re frolicking”. That was it. We were heading up the coast of Cape Breton Island and we were looking for frolicking whales.

Smokey Mountain was the first stop on our whale watching tour. We had a beautiful blue-sky day and we could see for miles up and down the coast. The Cabot trail wound around the shoreline. Hillside after hillside was draped with deciduous trees - coloured with shades of red, gold and green. The sea was a cool blue.

“Bring on the frolicking,” Jim said, scanning the waves with the binoculars.

“Blows, I see blows.” I pointed to two small vertical puffs of mist far out to sea. We had our first whale sighting (or whale breath sighting to be more exact).

Next morning we were up before dawn to go to White Point for sunrise. No wonder early Scottish settlers felt at home here. The peninsular was mainly made of granite, with the rough edges smoothed by lots of heather. I had the binoculars.

“I see splashing – is it frolicking?” Jim asked. Frolicking it perhaps was – but it was a pod of dolphins.

We travelled to the most northerly point on Cape Breton – Meat Cove. This is the end of the road. Again, blue skies, again more whales, but the part I truly loved was seeing the autumn colours of the leaves. Talking is something I have always considered myself to be pretty good at. Here on Cape Breton Island I was becoming disappointed in my vocabulary.

“Ohh – isn’t that pretty?” or “Look … red”.

I phoned my friend Gisele that evening. She remembered Cape Breton as being beautiful, but windy.

“No, not a breath for us,” I told her.

We hiked the skyline trail the next day. We saw a wet spot on the trail with big muddy hoof prints. We stopped talking and looked intently for moose. She was looking at us out from the bushes just round the next corner. She tipped her head and stared - then went back to nibbling branches. Her coat looked thick and glossy. We passed four more moose on that hike. At the lookout at the end of the trail, (or as they call them here; the lookover) the strong wind made it difficult to even stand. We hunkered down behind a bench and scanned the water for whales. A pod of about six moved up the bay – pilot whales we think.

“Its nice to see them from a whale watching boat but I think I like it even better from here,” Jim said, “when they are just doing their own thing – no boats chasing them down.”

I remembered my conversation with Gisele at our ocean side campground that evening. A park warden came by to relay a wind warning to us. As we watched, the spray was being blown off the top of the waves. Our trailer bounced and rattled – even though we were fully secured. The warning stated wind of 80km hr. He thought we were pretty close to that already.

“See that spot down there,” the warden pointed about 25 yards from where we were parked. “An airstream trailer parked there this time last year was blown three feet sideways during the night.’

The next morning we left very early after an unsettled nights sleep. The wind had picked up and small tornado-like clouds of spray were moving across the water. The sea was afroth.

“The whales would have to jump right out of the water for us to see them frolicking now,” Jim stated.

Cape Breton Island

“Look here - on the map,” Jim said pointing, “they have whales printed right there. It’s a guarantee.” He paused and looked intently at the illustration. “I think they’re frolicking”. That was it. We were heading up the coast of Cape Breton Island and we were looking for frolicking whales.

Smokey Mountain was the first stop on our whale watching tour. We had a beautiful blue-sky day and we could see for miles up and down the coast. The Cabot trail wound around the shoreline. Hillside after hillside was draped with deciduous trees - coloured with shades of red, gold and green. The sea was a cool blue.

“Bring on the frolicking,” Jim said, scanning the waves with the binoculars.

“Blows, I see blows.” I pointed to two small vertical puffs of mist far out to sea. We had our first whale sighting (or whale breath sighting to be more exact).

Next morning we were up before dawn to go to White Point for sunrise. No wonder early Scottish settlers felt at home here. The peninsular was mainly made of granite, with the rough edges smoothed by lots of heather. I had the binoculars.

“I see splashing – is it frolicking?” Jim asked. Frolicking it perhaps was – but it was a pod of dolphins.

We travelled to the most northerly point on Cape Breton – Meat Cove. This is the end of the road. Again, blue skies, again more whales, but the part I truly loved was seeing the autumn colours of the leaves. Talking is something I have always considered myself to be pretty good at. Here on Cape Breton Island I was becoming disappointed in my vocabulary.

“Ohh – isn’t that pretty?” or “Look … red”.

I phoned my friend Gisele that evening. She remembered Cape Breton as being beautiful, but windy.

“No, not a breath for us,” I told her.

We hiked the skyline trail the next day. We saw a wet spot on the trail with big muddy hoof prints. We stopped talking and looked intently for moose. She was looking at us out from the bushes just round the next corner. She tipped her head and stared - then went back to nibbling branches. Her coat looked thick and glossy. We passed four more moose on that hike. At the lookout at the end of the trail, (or as they call them here; the lookover) the strong wind made it difficult to even stand. We hunkered down behind a bench and scanned the water for whales. A pod of about six moved up the bay – pilot whales we think.

“Its nice to see them from a whale watching boat but I think I like it even better from here,” Jim said, “when they are just doing their own thing – no boats chasing them down.”

I remembered my conversation with Gisele at our ocean side campground that evening. A park warden came by to relay a wind warning to us. As we watched, the spray was being blown off the top of the waves. Our trailer bounced and rattled – even though we were fully secured. The warning stated wind of 80km hr. He thought we were pretty close to that already.

“See that spot down there,” the warden pointed about 25 yards from where we were parked. “An airstream trailer parked there this time last year was blown three feet sideways during the night.’

The next morning we left very early after an unsettled nights sleep. The wind had picked up and small tornado-like clouds of spray were moving across the water. The sea was afroth.

“The whales would have to jump right out of the water for us to see them frolicking now,” Jim stated.

Photo - White Point

Photo - Jim & Camera

Photo - Maple Leaves

Fortress Louisebourg

I visited Fortress Louisbourg in 1987 when I travelled across Canada with my Brother, Trevor. It has been imprinted on me ever since. Here on a windy, isolated coast of South East Cape Breton Island is an intricate reconstruction of the town as it would have been in 1744.

Louisbourg was not a shantytown. It was a boomtown. It had cobble stone streets, homes and mansions, churches, army barracks, and a hospital. The whole place was surrounded by a large stone wall – patrolled by armed guards. These guards, muskets in hand, are still walking the walls today (thanks to Parks Canada).

“Canadian history seemed uninteresting at school,” Jim said. “Yet, this place is fascinating.”

The French founded Louisbourg. In thirty-two years it had become a vibrant community of two and a half thousand people, one of the main shipping ports in North America and a real source of annoyance to the British - so they invaded - and sent the residents back to France. That turned out to be a waste of time, because after occupying Louisbourg for five years, Britain signed a treaty and gave the town back to the French. It’s no wonder the French don’t trust the British - nine years later the British returned with thirty thousand troops and deported all the residents back to France - again. To add insult to the French, it took a mere ten years of occupation before the British blew up the fortifications and left. Louisbourg existed for only fifty-five years before being abandoned.

“This was just a grassy field when Parks Canada decided to reconstruct. Yes, and an archaeological gold mine.” Our guide looked around the reconstructed kitchen we were standing in. “It’s the details that make this place magical,” he added. “It’s all authentic – from the pattern on the china to the type of latch on the window –it is all as it would have been.”

For me what makes it magical are the snapshots of time past. I looked out of a rain-splashed window to see three soldiers in full uniform, heads down against the storm, walking up the cobbled street.

Louisbourg has a strong Australian connection – even if the country had not been discovered yet. A young Captain Cook lived in Louisbourg during one of the British occupations. While walking the waterfront, he met a fella working on a Nautical Chart. He was fascinated by this map making - and he learnt the basics of the skill at Louisbourg. He continued making nautical charts. In fact, the British used Captain Cook’s charts when they successfully navigated the shifting channels of the St Lawrence enroute to their pivotal defeat of the French on the Plains of Abraham (Quebec City). After leaving Canada, Captain Cook would take his map-making skills to the Pacific - and go on to discover Australia.

Photo - Guard Duty-Fortress Louisebourg

Photo - Authentic Kitchen staff

Photo - Fortress Louisebourg