Friday, 14 July — Whycocomagh to Rollo Bay

Joyeuse fête nationale à tous mes amis français! Happy Bastille Day to all my French friends!

I arose well after 8h to a mild (+19 (66)) and lovely day, with a sunny blue sky. Before setting off, I retorqued the tire nuts, finding one loosish on the the front driver side. I left the motel at 9h51, but didn’t get past the Skye River bridge until 10h06—another long wait on a still one-lane bridge. At kilometre marker 1 on the Trans-Canada Highway, just before the rotary in Port Hastings, I was again delayed in a long line-up waiting to cross the Canso Causeway for, I assume, a boat traversing the Canso Canal. At 10h57, I crossed the causeway, sad, as always, to be leaving Cape Breton.

I stopped at the Subway in Aulds Cove to pick up a sub and some chips for the waiting line at the ferry and then continued on my way. I got to the ferry docks in Caribou at 12h23 with a ton of vehicles ahead of me, ending up in lane 13. I therefore assumed I wouldn’t be making the 13h sailing and would do well to make it on the 14h45 crossing, but at 12h52 I was unexpectedly waved onto the boat and we left the docks at 13h07. I had eaten the sub in the car while waiting, so spent my time wandering the outside decks looking at the beautiful scenery, first in Nova Scotia, then in PEI, rather than availing myself of the cafeteria on board. When it was time to go back to the car, I had some trouble finding it—I knew it was on B deck, but had neglected to note a more precise location, so I spent a few minutes searching before I spotted it—that is a huge B deck! We arrived in Wood Islands at 14h11, and I was one of the first off, to my great surprise. On the highway at 14h19, I arrived at the inn in Rollo Bay just a few minutes after 15h. I was tired, so I had a nap.

When I awoke, I drove into Souris for dinner at what is now called the Lot 45 Pub and Eatery on Breakwater Street, where the relocated Sheltered Harbour restaurant used to be. The menu is now very pub-food oriented and the restaurant has patio dining; it looks to me that its management has focussed on catering to ferry traffic to the Îles-de-la-Madeleine, rather than on fine dining. I had orange juice, mussels, a green salad, and scallops; not quite the superb food I used to find at its predecessor, but still quite good and the service prompt.

I drove back to Rollo Bay and picked up my preördered tickets for the the week-end and then headed to the cèilidh barn for the cèilidh tonight; it started at 19h, not the 19h30 I had somehow gotten in my head, but, when I took my seat at 19h06, the proceedings had only just gotten underway. Ellen MacPhee, the emcee, introduced Elmer Deagle, who must have been known to nearly everyone there. With Tim Chaisson accompanying on guitar, his first set began on mandolin; his second was a banjo solo, with Tim joining in much later; his third, beginning with My Cape Breton Home, was on fiddle, accompanied by Jake Charron on keyboard, Tim on guitar, and Geneviève Ouellette on accordion. A dancer gave us some steps during this last set. Elmer is a master of stringed instruments, but, done with the touring he did in his younger years and now living with his family in la belle Province (Québec), he no longer plays much, but has lost none of his fire. What a pleasure it was to hear him again! Mairi Rankin on fiddle was next up, with Jake Charron accompanying on keyboard. I failed to record what they played for their first set; their second began with Kilts on Fire, a march composed jointly by Brenda Stubbert and Howie MacDonald, and ended with two other tunes not in the standard Cape Breton repertoire, played very fast, and not really to my taste. Next was a set of jigs, with Andrea Beaton’s slip jig, The Water Boiling Machine, a tune by Howie MacDonald, one by Mairi, and another whose title I didn’t get. She ended with a lament she wrote for John Morris Rankin, a gorgeous slow air played from the heart, and followed by a great blast o’ tunes in pure Cape Breton style. Both Mairi and Jake turned in stellar performances, especially on the last set. Chris Kirby, who followed Mairi and Jake, a Newfoundland singer/songwriter, was not at all to my taste and I judged his performance a total waste of my time, giving us songs I just tuned out, though the audience seemed to be with him, as they joined him in his last of too many numbers, Ron Hynes’ Sonny’s Dream. Liz Carroll accompanied by Jake Charron switching between guitar and keyboard, gave us seven sets of the tunes she typically plays; my notes for one read “round and round she goes and when she stops nobody knows, but it can’t be quick enough for me”—as you can tell, I’m not a Liz Carroll fan. One set only, a tune she wrote for her late father, I judged quite fine and was glad to hear. Again, the audience was neither of my opinions nor tastes, and greeted her last set with a standing ovation, as I remained seated, and they continued clapping for an encore, which was not granted. The last performers of the evening were André Brunet (pronounced [bryˈnɛ] in Québécois French and standard French, not [bryˈnɛt] as in Acadian French) on fiddle and Colin Savoie-Levac on guitar, playing six sets of musique québécoise; I have only begun to explore this genre of music, so I can’t describe it very well, but it is much more to my taste than what Liz offers. The second, fourth, and sixth sets I found particularly interesting: the second for André’s “happy fiddle” against Colin’s fine guitar; the fourth for its pretty, flowing, melodic slow air, much of it played in the upper register, with grace and beauty; and the sixth for a tune from la Gaspésie sud followed by one André composed that brought dancers out on the floor and the rest of the audience to its feet.

I judged tonight’s cèilidh considerably more of a success than the one last year (described here), but, like it, this one was a considerable departure from those of recent years. No longer showcasing local youth talent, as in the first years I attended nor, in more recent years, featuring tune-writer circles nor local performers (such as the DOC CD release and the East Pointers concert of two years ago), the organizers often seem to me to be trying to turn the fiddle-music festival into a folk festival, bringing in “stars” from outside the local standard Scottish and Acadian fiddle traditions. There is plenty of local fiddle talent in the Maritimes, beginning close by with the many talented musicians in the Chaisson clan, that I’d have much preferred to hear over either Liz Carroll or Chris Kirby. Being overly modest Maritimers, I sometimes wonder if the Chaissons know how much people really want to hear them play. That’s certainly why I have made sure to attend this festival over more than ten years.

After the cèilidh, I got to say hello to some of the musicians and was introduced to Jake’s younger brother, Kyle, and to his parents. Kyle, I subsequently found out, is a champion fiddler, having won the Canadian Open Old Time Fiddle Championship five times, twice consecutively; in 2007, at 17 years of age, he was the youngest fiddler to ever win that title. As it was last year, the post cèilidh entertainment was a “traditional disco”, recorded traditional music to which folks were expected to dance disco-style, rather than the square sets of earlier years. A fair number of folks were on the floor, many young children; I found the music a bit too band-ish to my taste, so I left after a half hour or so and returned to the inn, where I read and relaxed, retiring to bed about 0h.