Day Four: Sydney and Marconi areas

NOTE: The Extreme Group and Destination Cape Breton have contracted me to tour Cape Breton Island and blog about my journey for four days. I have editorial control of the content and promise to write honestly and openly about the things I see and do. I hope you will accompany me on this adventure by reading my posts and commenting as you see fit.

Syndey perked up

I hadn't been to Sydney since 1986 when my grandparents were alive and living there. Feeling nostalgic, I drove by their former home (pictured). Carl and Joanna Landsky raised four children here while balancing careers. Carl was a lifelong employee at Canada Packers, so the family always had food, even during the depression. Joanna was a teacher, opening her own school for children with intellectual disabilities where she educated my uncle Stanley and many others. They looked like Jack Spratt and his wife—Carl was a tall, thin man with a booming voice, while Joanna was short, plump, and soft-spoken, but they were both typical Cape Bretoners—dedicated, kind and wise.

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Day Three: St Ann's and Scenic Bras d'Or Lakes

NOTE: The Extreme Group and Destination Cape Breton have contracted me to tour Cape Breton Island and blog about my journey for four days. I have editorial control of the content and promise to write honestly and openly about the things I see and do. I hope you will accompany me on this adventure by reading my posts and commenting as you see fit.

Artisans' loop

Traveling and writing are two of my favourite activities. Paired together into a paid work assignment—even better! This might be the best "job" I've ever had.

On day three, I sadly bid adieu to the delightful staff at Keltic Lodge and drove south to the St. Ann's Bay section of the Cabot Trail known for its many artisans.

My first stop was at Wildfire Pottery. I chatted with owner and potter Sarah Hake, who apologized for low inventory levels—she's had a good season. Her clay puffins were my favourite item. Sarah's inspired by the live puffins that nest on the small rocky islands that dot this coastline. Sarah also displays her art on locally sourced driftwood and stones. At the back she has a sizable used bookstore.

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Day Two: The Cabot Trail

NOTE: The Extreme Group and Destination Cape Breton have contracted me to tour Cape Breton Island and blog about my journey for four days. I have editorial control of the content and promise to write honestly and openly about the things I see and do. I hope you will accompany me on this adventure by reading my posts and commenting as you see fit.

Hiking in the Highlands

Walk loudly and carry a big stick. Sound advice when you're hiking in the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. For extra safety I also carried a bell—it is coyote and bear country, after all.

I drove from Chéticamp into the west park entrance and started my clockwise journey. I immediately faced a steep incline and seconds later was lured to a roadside lookout point that offered a sweeping view of green mountains, rocky beaches and the Cabot Trail. A minute further, there was another lookout and another stunning vista. Than another. And another. Like a fly to light, I couldn't resist the temptation to stop at each one. Every view took my breath away. (So did the highway's hairpin turns that required slowing down to 30 km/hour!)

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Day One: The Ceilidh Trail

NOTE: The Extreme Group and Destination Cape Breton have contracted me to tour Cape Breton Island and blog about my journey for four days. I have editorial control of the content and promise to write honestly and openly about the things I see and do. I hope you will accompany me on this adventure by reading my posts and commenting as you see fit.

Getting jiggy with it

Before I set out on my four-day Cape Breton adventure this morning, I boldly proclaimed on Twitter that I was going to learn to speak Gaelic, highland dance, and play the fiddle—all by the weekend.  Well by the end of day one I'd already met my goals! Allow me to explain.

I crossed the causeway from mainland Nova Scotia and made my way north on Highway 19, on the Ceilidh Trail, where the road signs are in both English and Gaelic. My first stop was at the Celtic Music Interpretive Centre. I arrived at 1 p.m. which just as the daily ceilidhs was beginning. Today's performers were Michael Hall on the fiddle and Allan Dewar on piano. The centre was packed as two bus tours arrived, one carrying visitors from Barra in the Western Isles of Scotland. In between tunes, Michael gave a brief history of Celtic music's roots in Cape Breton. The form that is alive and well here today is the oldest style of Scottish music played anywhere in the world. It is traced back to the mid-1700s and was largely brought by Scottish Highland emigrants who had to flee Scotland between 1800 and 1850 due to religious persecution and economic pressures.

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London Calling!

My younger boy and I leave in a few hours to fly to England. As commonplace as overseas travel is these days, I'm still thrilled that we can hop on a plane in Halifax and hop off five hours later in Bri-ain (I'm experimenting with a no "t" pronunciation to sound more like Russell Brand).

After a few days touring on our own we are meeting the other two members of our family who are currently at the University of Keele, south of Manchester, for a soccer–pardon me, football–tournament.

My eldest son is in an international tourney as part of a team representing Nova Scotia. He and his teammates, who range from 11 to 13 years old, are playing teams from Nigeria, Israel, Ireland, England and Canada (North York). They are not expected to win against these vastly more experienced teams, but that's not the point. As a friend said to me, "They'll leave Canada soccer players, and return home footballers." They're in what some might consider the football capital of the world, they get to take part in Manchester Academy training sessions, tour Chelsea and Manchester United stadiums, and watch a professional match (Stoke City vs. a Croatian team). I am deeply grateful to those who organized and fundraised tirelessly for the past 10 months to give these children this chance.

A friend was over last night and we were talking about what is most important in life. She suggested it is not career, money or even family–it's experiences and relationships. This gave me pause and led me to conclude that these are the precise reasons why I love to travel.

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