From Halifax we headed northeast, beginning our trip across the north Atlantic. First stop was Sydney, Nova Scotia. Sydney is a small town of 30,000 hardy souls, founded by Loyalists escaping the American revolution. Over the years immigrants from other countries made their way to Sydney. The coal fields and large steel mill promised an escape from the poverty of their homelands.
Sydney greeted us with windy, misty weather. The kind that makes you wonder why you ever crawled out from under the covers that morning, let alone left the ship. We decided we really needed to stretch our legs a bit, so headed along the waterfront. There is a walkway overlooking the harbor that is probably a wonderful place for a stroll on an August afternoon. However in May, with our glasses covered with fine mist and a cutting wind, not so nice a place to be.
Saturday afternoon’s aren’t a good time to arrive in a small town, even with good weather. Most shops close early, so the option of browsing the local establishments as an escape from the weather was not an option. There were a few shops at the cruise terminal. Apparently enough ships stop in Sydney on their way to or from the UK, that folks can make a few bucks with shops selling locally made trinkets.
Sunday was a day at sea. With sun in the forecast for our Monday visit to St. John’s
Newfoundland, we were looking forward to a pleasant day ashore, wandering around this historic town. The sun came through as promised, but the wind brought the 43 degrees down to a “feels like” 37. Then to add insult to injury, it was a holiday, so most everything was closed.
St. Johns has been home to cod fishermen for centuries. When Sir Humphrey Gilbert arrived in 1583 to establish a colony for Queen Elizabeth, French, Spanish and Portuguese fishermen had been here for years. With a bit of perseverance and good luck, Newfoundland came to be a British colony. Little remains of the original European influence, except for cod fishing.
One of our goals for the visit was to track down the local rum, Screech. The name comes from the shriek of the winds in the rigging as the ship heads home to Newfoundland or the cry of the Arctic Tern. The rum was brought from Jamaica on ships returning from selling salt cod in the Caribbean. With the holiday, the liquor stores were closed, so no gifts of rum. We did stop at a pub for a rum and Coke, so we have been Screeched.
Now, we head across the Atlantic -next stop, Cork, Ireland.
