What's It All About, eh?

Cape Breton evokes deep memories and strong emotions for me as well as a deep appreciation for the beauty of my adopted island. My hopes are that you too might find the photos evocative - maybe a view you've not enjoyed before, or an 'Oh I've been there', or if from away that you may be encouraged to visit this fair isle so that you might come to love and breathe Cape Breton as I do. One word about place names that I use - some are completely local usage while others are from maps of Cape Breton that I've purchased over the years. I frequently post travel and other photos that are of interest to me - and hopefully you.

On the right hand side bar find my take on Single Malt whiskey - from how to best enjoy this noble drink to reviews (in a most non-professional manner) of ones that I have tried and liked - or not. Also musings, mine and others, on life in general.

Photographs are roughly 98%+ my own and copy-righted. For the occasional photo that is borrowed, credit is given where possible - recently I have started posting unusual net photographs that seem unique. Feel free to borrow any of my photos for non-commercial use, otherwise contact me. Starting late in 2013 I have tried to be consistent in identifying my photographs using ©smck on all out of camera photos I personally captured - (I often do minor computer changes such as 'crop' or 'shadow' etc but usually nothing major), and using
©norvellhimself on all photos that I have played around with in case it might not be obvious. Lately I have dropped the ©smck and have watermarked them with the blog name.

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Sketer Bass Boat - Yamaha Motor

I always have difficulty with the modern world and it's casual wealth draped across the water - out for a few hours fishing in a boating outfit that costs more than I paid for my old vacation farm house in Cape Breton - and if we go back about 65 or 70 years ago, this would have been my father in a battered old rowboat that he salvaged from the burn pile somewhere and refurbished with gathered lumber and pints of left-over paints from some house painting job, and the only actual outlay of money would have been one of the better reels of the day along with some of the better fishing line.  And in that old boat in sun or rain, wind or calm, he would row in steady cadence for some miles along the river to the proper spots along the channel that was lined with acres of water grass in which fish in great profusion lived and prospered.  I doubt if any line fisherman ever caught more fish than he - one day in particular he caught 44 fish all over four pounds, large mouth bass and pike (possibly the Esox lucius also called Northern Pike) and all of which he rowed to 'The Wharf' and sold for store food money (although we never were without fresh fish for breakfast and any other meal as the meat dish of the week).  But this was in the halcyon days of clean water, and only small boats fishing commercially in the seemingly endless bounty of the bay (Chesapeake) and the tributary rivers and all with thriving endless acres of water grass - but this was before the behemoth of the power boating industry that had this mighty water system systematically cleared of grass that tangled the propellers of both the working boats and the almighty power boats.  Once cleared the water was never clear again - no longer could one look over the side and see the fish and bottom life in as much as fifteen feet of water.  But progress in inevitable it seems, so that today we use sonar to show us what swims beneath even though the muddy water is as opaque as our minds.  

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