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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Ms Cardinal


The New Pier

In years gone by there was a pier with railroad track built by the Arundel corporation to load gravel, brought in by barge, into railroad cars where this present pleasure pier for docking pleasure craft is located.  My father had worked here in his late teens loading the gravel - it was all done by manual labor at that time - along with other 'strong back but weak mind'  young men of the times one of whom was a well know young black who faced the 'white' world head on as a fighter of renown.  And my father was a poor but hard white who faced the whole world the same way.  For what ever reason they ended up coming to 'blows' as a hard fist-fight was then called with all the loading crews gathered 'round with work at an end for a good rousing time.  My dad said it was his second hardest fight in which he and his opponent (I no longer remember his name) fought brutally for some fifteen to twenty minutes with neither giving ground until they both were exhausted with bloodied noses, knuckles, and swollen eyes with no winner between them.  He, my dad, told me though that both he and the black guy were given a 'wide berth' by the rest of the crews from then on.  No one wanted to take a chance on challenging either one.

Walking The Track

from the net