And now for my annual summer report from the
south shore of Nova Scotia. Wet and foggy! This concludes my
report.
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Seriously, this is nuts. The sun came out for 22
minutes the other day, and we didn’t know what to do. By the time
we got out of our yellow rain jackets and three layers of clothes,
the moment had passed. We felt silly for such an obvious seduction.
It is the only time I’ve seen the sun since arriving. To be fair, I
commute to Ontario to pay the bills, and admit there was a sunny
day when I flew up to be in the Ontario rain.
Last night, as we walked on the beach, we were
reduced to talking about how lovely it was to walk in the fog and
the drizzle when it was so warm.
Sounds like Vancouver talk to me.
It’s been an odd summer season.
To begin with, the doors swell with this
much-sustained dampness.
If you manage to actually close a door, you are
in for a fight for your life to get it open again. Each day there
are numerous little decisions about doors you wouldn’t normally
confront. There is a higher degree of risk when you have visitors
and minimum standards of privacy are required.
Don’t stand on a throw rug while fighting a door.
I was trying to escape the bathroom the other day when the door
finally gave way and I flew across the bathroom and impaled myself
on the sink.
Late at night, as you lie in bed and hear someone
heading for the washroom, you can’t help but place small private
bets as to whether your friends
will risk embarrassment for not closing the door
or not being able to open it.
Worse than doors, however, is my boat. I haven’t
yet been out for a sail. This year was to be a big year. I finally
managed to get the boat moved from a difficult dock location to the
top of the finger dock.
This means quick and easy access to the river,
but also means she takes the sea from a Nor’easter, which we don’t
get much in the summer (south’wester is generally the rule),
except, well, this summer.
I was busy cleaning the boat the other day
(surprising in and of itself) when a Nor’easter sprung up and
before long the waves were rocking the old Eku II consistently. The
longer I worked the more I realized something was wrong. Damn it, I
was getting seasick at my own dock. It doesn’t get much worse than
that down here. I quickly dropped the bucket and headed topside to
sit in the rain until I recovered. Bad enough I’m a “Come from
Away” who is never around when the docks are laid out or brought
in, but seasick at the dock. My God.
I think all this fog is getting to all of
us.
The other day I went down to one of my favourite
little beaches and found a barbed wire fence closing it off. I’ve
been going there for 30 years. It is a very special place.
The owner apparently wants to build condos or
something and is tired of waiting for approvals from the Ministry
of Natural Resources. Whatever the motivation, this is not
appreciated in Nova Scotia, nor by me. A meeting of a couple of
hundred people ensued (I had no idea that many people lived in the
area) and trouble is on the horizon.
A day later, a little further down the road the
Nova Scotia Ministry of Transport came down to start laying down
big boulders to continue its work of protecting a coastal road from
the ravages of a future hurricane. Ministry workers were met by
some 50 cottager protesters who thought they were at Tiananmen
Square. These people stood in front of revving bulldozers until
cooler heads prevailed and the local police recommended a
compromise meeting two weeks hence.
In the meantime, at the canteen where I buy ice
cream is a petition that has now been signed by hundreds of people
who would rather risk water damage than look out over pristine
boulders all summer.
All this while people continue to work away at
replacing docks and various buildings, which were impacted either
by Hurricane Juan last fall or some of the incredible snow storms
this winter.
We need some sun.
This column is reprinted from the August issue of
Northern Ontario Business. Michael Atkins is the president of
Laurentian Media. He can be
reached at [email protected].
