another island

hey take my picture diving, i heard as i got out of the machine at the harbour in arisaig.
the day hadn’t started out well, not even used to smaller cities i got lost in new glasgow trying to find the sunrise trail. the more i went along the road the more dubious the route. gave up and turned back into town - which looked quite nice - again self sufficiency on a scale that puts cities ten times its size to shame. barely 10 000 people but a thriving town centre and again people out and about.

ended up two off ramps west of where i entered but this time reading the maps - an hour later i was off the trans-canada and on the sunhine coast trail.

already nova scotia looked less tidy than p.e.i. it looked comfortably lived in. there was still this mix of rehab and abandoned but it was more at random than on the island.

following the plan of the day before i was pulling into wharves to walk around. not only was there the chance of photographing objects as well as making formal arrangements. here also there wasn’t the rustic but the working.

it seems that arisaig’s harbour was also the beach.

-ok get ready. i yell back as i walk over. this is getting to be too complicated as i reach in to pick up ziquinho and the digital to make snaps.

-wasn’t he here yesterday? one kid whispers.
-no that was another person i said the same the same thing but he didn’t hear me.
-and i did with ears ruined by the who
-who?
-what?
-what?
-who
-that’s what i heard.
so for the next 20 minutes i became the official photographer for the arisaig harbour diving team as they all took turns diving for the camera even one who wasn’t quite sure. said that i would e-mail them and got a message before i hit the motel asking for them.

tried to hit me up for ice cream.

the best part was them made a few snaps but they were pretty much formulaic, the buildings some quite iconic in their stature, benched on the edge of the straits, but difficult for the formal snap as the place was spread out.

a new brunswick biker gang pulls up and they are trying to decide who will take their picture. i volunteer apologising that i cannot translate -oh yes oh yes, make love to the camera - ouais ouais baiser le boîtier. i then make a snap of them while they do the same of me - this could be a new photographic trend.

they were the second encounter in merigomish again at a wharf one which was only a wharf and thus more haphazard, a fisherman asked where i was from - thinking me a tourist imagine. then heading out on the rocks i met two women as they were finishing up their fishing they wanted fish for dinner but only caught ones 6cm in length. they kept yelling for rocco. one was from nova scotia, the other her friend was up from toronto. rocco was on the other side of the rocks still trying. they had also wanted a snap of all of them and in my new capacity of tourist photographer, i obliged then bringing out to digital to record the moment for myself.

fancying a slurpee - it seems that it quenches thirst while the sugar gives me energy - gatorade for the maritimes - i stopped in lismore to phone the states saying where i was and to choose one where the colours weren’t so florescent.

coming out - don’t know why i didn’t see it going in - a ball park. one that looked like it was marginally used but not in any official capacity.

found another in arisaig this having the added attraction of a church behind home plate. it seems that ball parks would be added to list of things that cause me to stop.

i don’t like how i can turn everything into a strategy but i know that i am at fault. leaving the machine now i look around for people, if there are any i take ziquinho and the digital, if i am alone -stopping on the road - i pick up ubirajara and leave everything else in the car.

malignant cove didn’t live up to its name.

at first ‘bira was a problem, heavier noisier, it didn’t fit my more and more misguided notion of photography as note-taking. like note-taking with a mont blanc. but like last year i like using it as there is nothing in the viewfinder and i am so lazy that i tend to examine the light rather than pull out a light meter. the viewfinder in ziquinho is brighter but laden with lines and the like. i also find - after denmark - that i am second guessing the exposure.

the new method of exploration here was looking for loops, better than looking for wharves as i don’t have to retrace my way. pulled into one to find a series of shoes hanging on the line to dry next to a simple framed house. hopped out. couldn’t tell if anyone was at home or not. no machine, but the doors were open. walked up determinedly so not to look at i was sneaking around made a few snaps and was going to leave when on the main road below heard two women yelling at each other. coming up the hill, i asked if they lived here and if i could photograph their clothes line.

thinking i was daft they thought i wanted to go further on their property and said go on up the hill if the machine will make it - i assured them that i only wanted their clothes line and brought out the bonne bay snaps to show them what i do.

they asked if the images were from ballentynes kept assuring them that they weren’t. asked if i were the new pastor over there as there are many up from the carribean now.
again i assured them that i was not the new pastor.

they went into the house, the dog they brought up from the beach stay with me.

for some reason i fixated on the clothes line kept running back to the machine to pick up ‘bira.

-he’s still making pictures. i’d hear from inside
i’d leave and come back walking around the line
-he’s back
-and with the dog - which wasn’t theirs.
i met their cat and finally after photographing their bench that overlooked the strait. i yelled that i was leaving.

ok i heard that there was a spot on the atlantic vision the newest ferry in the fleet. so while stopping only a few times i was trying to get to the causeway and cape breton so i could phone marine atlantic and reserve a seat. the line was engage - yeah i know later i heard that they were so busy that all the hold spot were taken.

decided to look for internet access so hitting port hawkesbury, i would ask in a motel if i could use their wireless connexion. found a phone first got through but was put on hold five minutes, ten minutes, when does one hang up, i reckoned i would wait until the top of the hour then try a hotel.

a person comes on
-hello welcome to marine atlantic. hello, hello.
and rings off.

race to a motel that has wifi make the reservation and to-morrow at 18:30 i’m sailing to the rock

-cue the ode.

it is illogical.

i won’t have any time there to do what i want. i shall barely have time to head over to bonne bay then over to the avalon before i have to return on the wednesday am ferry meaning leaving tues mid afternoon.

i am also beginning to hate the trans canada there. those stretches when you feel you are not moving between the wreckhouse and corner brook, between badger and gambo and when st john’s doesn’t doesn’t seem to get any closer.

but all the same.

so three days, two ferries, three islands.

i shall stop to-night when it gets dark and i hope it gets dark after mabou.
up the ceilidh trail no sooner than i am on it in craignish - than the mother lode of ball parks, overlooking the strait below the road there it is, from it another church, much time is spent there more time in judique. pass mabou as it is still light head to inverness in the dark with all motels full once again guess wrongly

once again in mooseland i head down to waycocomagh as hoping that along transcanada one of the motels will have a room.

to-morrow like the final day of the tour-de-france it can be a leisurely ride along the cabot trail down into north sydney.