smultronställe
Swedish
noun
“A place of wild strawberries”; a special place discovered, treasured, returned to for solace and relaxation; a personal idyll; a safe haven; my own Eden. (There are strawberries but I prefer the blueberries my mum and aunts pick in the northeast).
Margaree River (Abhainn Mhargaraidh)
Lake Ainslie to Belle Côte - 60km/ 2 days
If you know me, you know I love home. Boy oh boy, do I ever. On any given day, I’m likely wearing my Cabot toque, Margaree River Sweater, a Live Life Intents shirt, and drinking out of my Dancing Goat mug, looking like the last draft pick if Cape Breton was an NFL team or maybe the superfan in the bleachers. I’m to Margaree what Nav Bhatia is to the Raptors. To be honest, as I write this Schooner Lane by Beòlach is blaring. I’m very proud of where I’m from, knowing that the island and the people have made me into who I am. I like to think I got a bit of what my ancestors possessed; a balance of rugged resilience to survive in a raw & rough place but not at the sacrifice of a gentle, kind heart and a deep love & sense of duty to one’s neighbour. I’ve been daydreaming about doing this trip for a long time but lacked the skill, experience, paddle partner, and a canoe. All I had was the stoke and ability to continue in unfavourable situations. I’m not sure if my skill level is adequate but I gained some experience paddling and found an adventure buddy with a canoe; Andrew and his canoe which we named Dede on our first Keji trip.
We pushed off at the south tip of Lake Ainslie, the largest natural freshwater lake in Cape Breton. We started on peaceful waters but quickly found ourselves in a 30km/hr headwind battling foot high waves (when I’m old and reliving the glory days I’m sure I’ll be saying it was 75km/hr headwinds with 5 foot high swells). After hours and a big push on the lake, we found ourselves on Southwest Margaree River. With every bend of the river, while quietly humming Just Around The River Bend from Pocahontas, I wondered what fate lied ahead and if I would become up close and personal with the gaspereau after being taken out by rapids, a downed tree, a sneaky boulder, or a gaspereau cage itself.
On a side note, anytime I find myself on an adventure at home the stakes somehow seem a bit steeper. You can’t do anything in this place without everyone knowing and forming their own opinions on the matter so the motivation to not mess up was high. I lightheartedly joke that my worst fear is being rescued by SAR (I’ve become friends with a few of the Greenwood guys), then being taken to the nearest hospital (either the emergency department my mum works at or the one my sister works at) where they determine I’m unstable and Lifeflight (I work with a few of the paramedics and nurses when they aren’t flying) has to take me to QEII Emergency & Trauma Centre (where I work as a nurse). Of course, all of this would lead to making the cover of the Inverness Oran and providing the Margarees with village gossip for weeks. I know it’s silly and ultimately, in dire situations I wouldn’t feel mortified and embarrassed, but instead overwhelmingly grateful for being saved by the most incredible, capable individuals I’m lucky to know and/or work beside…. but still I find myself mindfully deciding what underwear I wear when I’m doing something fun and remotely dangerous, just in case the primary and secondary survey leaves me naked with an audience. Sometimes my mantra morphs into “Don’t be a trauma team activation, don’t be a trauma team activation.” Thankfully, I’m very happy to report no one was harmed in the making and unfolding of this trip!
I’d wave to the fishermen probably looking like I was calm, cool, and collected, but in reality, I was a watch dog on high alert looking for potential obstacles that would deck us. On every endeavour, I wonder what percentage was luck and what was skill. I often think about a quote I heard on Live Life Intently podcast that I think is attributed to Jeff Farrell - "You’ve got two jars. One jar is luck, the other is experience. When you first learn the experience jar is empty and the lucky jar is full of coins. Each time you get lucky a coin comes out of the luck jar and goes into the experience jar. At some point the luck jar is going to run out of coins and staying safe relies on all the experience you’ve built up.” I’d say when it comes to canoeing, my luck jar is pretty full so with my full luck jar and Andrew’s full experience jar, we made an excellent team. It probably helped the luck side that we scouted anything that looked sketchy. On one of the scouts, I found myself on the river bank looking at a class 2 rapids on a bend with a downed tree which added some extra spice while chatting with a fisherman, Norman, asking who I was and where I was from. “Emily MacKay from East Margaree!” “You aren’t John’s girl, are ya?” I smile and laugh because this moment is so pure in its Cape Breton-ness. “I went to school with your dad! My father and your grandfather fought alongside each other in Italy in WWII.” He wished us a safe voyage and continued to cast. We spent a night along the river, falling asleep under an exploding sky of stars as peepers, eagles, a beaver, and river creatures stayed up.
We awoke to a sunrise peeking in over the mountains and set off on what would be a 35 km day. We continued our journey down river in awe of the number of eagles above us and fish below us. Snaking our way along the river through the Southwest and alongside Coady Road. I howled in celebration and excitement as we paddled into where the Northeast River meets the Southwest River and combines to make the Margaree River which would lead us to the ocean. Feeling semi secure for the first time of the trip, I felt I could take out my camera from the dry bag and take a few photos. As we paddled, I’d point to houses and the farms of people I know; “There’s Ms D’s house and her farm! She was my preschool teacher!” I’d yell back “We’re about 3km from my house,” since I know where every kilometre is in either direction of my house because I’ve run hundreds of kilometres over the years on the same road along French side of the river. We worked our way towards to the ocean with the current of the river on our side but against the incoming tide and slight headwind. We paddled under my favourite spot as I waved to the white house on the hill, my home.
We continued on for a few more kilometres leaving East Margaree behind and paddled under the Harbour bridge with Margaree Harbour on our left and Belle Côte to our right. From there, we made own way to the Harbour where we would dock at my Aunt Marcella and Uncle Joes cabin. I refer to it as The Cabin and if I were to write a book, this place would be a character on its own because of its importance and prevalence in my life since I was a kid. Growing up, I didn’t need a calendar to know when summer began because when the Cabin Girls (Marcella, Doreen, and Donna) came home, it was summer time. Spending the entire day on Belle Côte beach followed by family suppers at The Cabin, watching the sunset, and spending the hours playing games of 200 into the night as the stars came out.
The whole trip was an exploration of my roots, tracing the vein through the heart of Margaree, and seeing the most important place in the world to me from a different angle. We docked Dede on the rocky shore completing our adventure! My heart is always full after a trip back home. I feel clearer, calmer, and refreshed after relishing in the simplicity and slower pace of life. Like the tourism slogan goes: Cape Breton Island; your heart will never leave. As you can tell, mine sure didn’t. I know the world has opened up, but I’m pretty stoked to continue to explore my home and for every Backyard Adventure I check off my list, I add three more… so… I’ll be back!
“To know our Island is to know she’s an unyielding beauty, one which breeds a fierce spirit, resolute pride, and resilient communities knit together by tradition.” - CB Island
*an added perk of completing this adventure is that I did what my dad couldn’t so I get bragging rights for life.
Written by: Emily Mackay