Sail for Science

Port Felix had a few surprises for us. Our friend Ray, who had been our neighbour during the ‘Oceanolog’ wintering at Morrisburg Marina, had a brilliant suggestion for our stay in Port Felix. He recommended that we dock at a private wharf for free: the house of his sister Denise was there facing the peer. The excitement in the air, we arrived just before the sun went down, greeted by the serene solitude – no internet, not even a hint of mobile service! Naturally, this meant we couldn’t inform Denise of our arrival. However, the night turned out to be nothing short of magical. 

As we ventured onto the deck to admire the stars, the profound silence enveloped our senses. But to our delight, the night wasn’t as quiet as we expected. It began with the haunting hoot of a great horned owl, piercing the veil of darkness. Soon, we found ourselves serenaded by a symphony of unfamiliar sounds echoing in the distance – mysterious groans, sighs, and plaintive howls. They were harmonized by the haunting calls of two loons. I grabbed a flashlight, hoping to unveil the enigmatic creatures behind these sounds, but alas, the source remained elusive, hidden in the shroud of the night. Yet, beneath the dock’s edge, a mesmerizing sight awaited us – graceful sea anemones, swaying their petals under the water’s surface. It was a night of pure enchantment.

Denise, Toze, and Mouski (their dog, proudly named after Rimouski, Denise’s hometown) were at the dock early in the morning. They showered us with a warm and hospitable welcome, serving up a delightful breakfast before embarking on a tour of their beloved village. Together, we explored Port Felix, making cherished acquaintances with the locals, and even tried our hand at mackerel fishing off Toze’s preferred pier – the promise of big fish lingered in the salty air. Our fishing endeavours yielded no catches, but boredom was far from our minds as we were entertained by the vibrant wildlife. A curious seal kept a hopeful watch over us, anticipating a treat. A cormorant dove so close that I feared it might become an unintended catch, but in the end, it skillfully pilfered a fish from our neighbor’s hook and swam away, content in its conquest. An otter made a brief but endearing appearance, circling us with an inquisitive gaze before gracefully vanishing into the depths.

Port Felix, with its population of fewer than a hundred, thrives as a humble fishing village, its livelihood centred around lobster, halibut, and shrimp harvesting. One of the village’s standout attractions is a lookout point, offering breathtaking vistas of the picturesque harbour, meticulously designed in homage to Basque Captain Savalett’s ship. Our day concluded with a heartwarming dinner shared in perfect harmony. Denise presented us with warm socks – she knitted them herself! – and a little painted rock collected on Port Felix’s shore. While we couldn’t predict the future, one thing was certain – Denise and Toze had etched their place in our hearts with unforgettable memories.

As we navigated across Chedabucto Bay, we finally reached the ‘mainland’ of Nova Scotia and pulled into the bustling fishing wharf of Canso. As we explored the intricacies of this fishing port and meandered through the charming streets, we couldn’t help but notice an intriguing sight – posters plastered in the windows of many houses declaring, ‘We say NO to the Canso spaceport!’

Our curiosity piqued, we sought to unravel the story behind this fervent movement. It wasn’t long before we had the opportunity to chat with Jim Geddes, a passionate activist leading the charge against the Canadian-Ukrainian spaceport project. We listened as he articulated their perspective, and it became apparent that more than 400 local residents had joined forces to voice their dissent against having a spaceport right in their backyard.

The crux of their concerns? The proposed spaceport sat a mere 3 km from their homes and a scant 3.2 km from the local hospital and nursing home. Not to mention, it was nestled just 4 km from the Barrens Protected Wilderness Area, a haven for wildlife, and a crucial migratory bird stopover. The potential risks of rocket launches, especially ones with questionable reliability, weighed heavily on their minds. The prospect of rocket fragments raining down from the sky was enough to give anyone pause.

For us, as Canadian-Ukrainians, it was vital to empathize with their anxieties about the future of life in Canso. We imagined the unsettling scenario of rockets with uncertain fates launching just a stone’s throw from their homes and vital social structures. In solidarity with the residents of Canso, we wholeheartedly support their quest for a peaceful and secure future.

Amidst this thought-provoking encounter, we also stumbled upon a local hero, Nelson, the skilled mechanic who took on the Herculean task of troubleshooting and repairing the persistent fuel leak in our engine. It was a problem that had been gnawing at our nerves, but with Nelson’s expertise, we held out hope for a smoother journey ahead.

Well, the time has come to leave such a different and such beautiful lake Bras d’Or – now our path lay through the St. Peter’s Canal, which we had already explored from land.

We were taken aback when we arrived in St. Peter’s and were greeted by a crew of biking pirate sceletons, with flags and banners adorning the village. Initially, we thought it might be an early start to Halloween festivities, but as it turned out, we were fashionably late for the Pirate Festival, which coincidentally coincided with the arrival of Hurricane Lee.

Now, you might be wondering, why pirates? Well, it appears that pirates had quite a lucrative career in these waters, pillaging Nova Scotia until the mid-19th century. They struck terror into the hearts of both the maritime fleet and local fishermen.

The “Golden Age of Piracy” occurred from 1690 to 1730 when Nova Scotia, was largely unsettled by Europeans, making it a possible location for pirates to hide-out or refit. The governor of Fortress Louisbourg in the mid -1720s was so afraid of pirate attacks in Cape Breton that he asked for extra naval protection. One of the nastiest pirates of the “Golden Age”, Ned Low, raided fishing fleets who used Nova Scotian harbours as shelters and fishing stations. Low terrorized a New England fleet in Shelburne in 1720. Some have suggested that he hid treasure in Nova Scotia.

It seems the pirate spirit still lingers in the air, even without the Jolly Roger fluttering above.

As is our tradition, we unfolded our trusty bikes and embarked on a sightseeing adventure. St. Peter’s stands as one of Nova Scotia’s time-honoured settlements, steeped in history. The Portuguese explorers were here back in the 1500s, affectionately naming it Sant-Pedro. Fast forward to the 1650s, and the French decided to set up shop nearby, christening it Saint-Pierre. This region, home to a traditional Mi’kmaq portage route bridging the Atlantic Ocean and Bras d’Or Lakes, witnessed the ebb and flow of a French trading post, a bustling settlement, and a British hilltop fort.

Our expedition took us to the renowned National Historic Site, St. Peter’s Canal, where the mighty Atlantic Ocean converges with the glistening Bras d’Or Lake. Soon, the lock gates of this historic waterway will swing open, granting us passage like a secret door to another world. And if that wasn’t enough, we also ventured into the enchanting Battery Park, where wooden pathways unveiled breathtaking ocean vistas and led us to the St. Peter’s Lighthouse. It was like discovering a hidden treasure trove of natural beauty and history.