I Like Big Boats and I Cannot Lie

I've always loved working boats, both big and small to be honest, and there are few places better suited to someone with a love of such boats than Atlantic Canada. From the sandy shores of Prince Edward Island to the tides of the Bay of Fundy, shared by Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, to the rocky coast of Newfoundland and Labrador, this region has a wealth of boats of all shapes and sizes.

They can be found in small towns and big cities, tied up at wharves, riding at anchor, or moored "on the collar" in small coves whose names don't appear on any map. The unifying thread among all these boats is their utilitarian grace. They're built for work, not for show, but they have an innate beauty that's a bit poignant somehow, as if try as they will, they just can't help being graceful and elegant.

These days their hulls might be fiberglass, metal or even concrete, but there was a time when every one of them had been built from wood in a local boat shop. Examples of those older wooden boats can still be found if you're willing to look; they might be housed in museums where they're carefully studied for their lines, hauled up on the shore and falling into ruin, or -- in some rare cases -- lovingly patched and mended and still afloat after seventy-five or a hundred years of plying the North Atlantic.

I particularly like those parts of the region where there's a lot of individuality expressed in the colours of the boats; those bright reds and yellows and blues and greens add cheer to a foggy day, and from a practical standpoint of those who wait on shore, it's a lot easier to recognize the boat you're looking for when it rounds the headland making for home. Although today's navigational and safety equipment have reduced the hazards, fishing is still a dangerous way to make a living; here's wishing safe home to all those boats, and to those who travel in them.

Shelburne's Historic Waterfront

The town of Shelburne, on Nova Scotia's scenic South Shore, was one of several communities that were destinations for the United Empire Loyalists who fled the United States during and after the American Revolution, from 1775 to 1812. Known in the U.S. as Tories, they had remained loyal to Britain and had not supported the efforts of the revolutionaries, sometimes actively opposing them. On May 4 of 1783, ships carrying 3073 Loyalists from New York anchored in the harbour of what was then known as Port Roseway, dramatically changing the course of southwestern Nova Scotia's history.

Prior to their landing, the entire territory of Nova Scotia, which then included the present-day province of New Brunswick, had a population of less than 20,000.  By the end of 1783, over 35,000 Loyalists had arrived, overwhelming both the limited infrastructure and the ability of the government in Halifax to cope with the arrivals.

In July of 1783, the name of Port Roseway was changed to Shelburne to honour Lord Shelburne, Secretary of State for the colonies who had served briefly as Britain's Prime Minister in 1782.

By 1784, the population of Shelburne had swelled to over 10,000 -- the largest town in British North America and more than twice the size of Halifax. Eventually most of these Loyalists either returned to the United States as the political climate became less hostile, or moved on to other areas of Canada. They left behind a carefully laid-out town with streets named after members of the Royal Family, and a number of handsome and well-constructed homes and businesses. Today, Shelburne provides an interesting stop for the cultural explorer, with its cluster of museums and restored buildings. Shown here, from the top, are the Shelburne County Museum, the Ross-Thomson House, the Old Dory Shop Museum, and the impressive Cox's Warehouse, its cupola and spire added for the filming of The Scarlet Letter in 1995. 

The Master Boatbuilder

If you happen into Trinity on a summer's day, you may just be treated to one of Newfoundland and Labrador's most beautiful sights: the schooner Leah Caroline as she slips into view, sails set to catch the wind. This beauty was built by Henry Vokey, a resident of Trinity and a boatbuilder since the 1950s. Henry grew up in the now-resettled community of Little Harbour, Trinity Bay; when he moved to Trinity he established Vokey's Shipyard, which produced over a thousand vessels from rodneys (small punts) to longliners using traditional methods, and at times employed up to forty people. With the shutdown of the shipyard in the 1990s, Henry continued building boats from the shed behind his home. In 1986, the schooner J & B was launched from the shipyard; it was operated as a tour boat for a number of years before being lost in a hurricane in 2007. Recently, Henry decided that it was time to build another schooner. The result is the beautiful and graceful Leah Caroline, launched in July of 2012. The day of the launch was a festive one in Trinity, drawing a large crowd despite the rainy weather. See a video of the launch, posted by Dale Gilbert Jarvis, Intangible Cultural Heritage Development Officer for the Heritage Foundation of Newfoundland and Labrador, here.

LaHave Islands

The LaHave Islands lie just ten miles from Lunenburg, on Nova Scotia’s scenic South Shore. That’s ten miles as the crow flies, but unless you’re actually a crow then getting there takes a bit more time than you might expect. Travel along Route 332, the Lighthouse Route, to East LaHave, and from there take the cable ferry across the LaHave River -- it leaves the eastern side of the river at 15 and 45 minutes past the hour. Turn left after leaving the ferry, and proceed no farther than the delightful LaHave Bakery before continuing on your way. It’s essential to stop at this bakery
and café to snack on fresh baked goods or enjoy delicious soups, light lunches, and a fine variety of teas, coffees, and cold beverages. You might like to pick up a loaf of bread to bring along as well; milk & honey, cheese & herb or multigrain are just some of the choices. Now that you’re properly provisioned, it’s time to continue west along the shore to Crescent Beach; the road to LaHave Islands runs parallel to the beach, behind the dunes. Take time to linger on this smooth strip of sand; although the seawater is usually too cold for swimming, it’s a great walking beach, well-used
by locals and visitors alike. During my most recent visit, there were several people wading hip-deep in the cold water, digging into the sand for surf clams (above right). They’d wisely chosen to wear wetsuits for this activity!

Back on the road, a bridge at the end of the beach/causeway leads to Bush Island, where a small but picturesque fishing harbour makes for interesting exploration. The next island is Bell Island; here you’ll find the LaHave Islands Marine Museum (top), housed in a former Methodist church. The eclectic collection of displays here pays tribute to the area’s seafaring past and to its farming history, as well as recognizing the contribution of the district’s veterans of the two World Wars. There are some fine examples of local boatbuilding, including large double dories and an example of a double-ended Bush Island boat christened the Vera Mae.

A little farther down the road lies the turnoff for Wolfe Gut, an out-of-the-way corner with lovely views of the shoreline. This is just one of the many peaceful spots that make a visit to the LaHave Islands worthwhile. The South Shore is a popular travel destination and can at times be busy and bustling during the summer months, but the LaHave Islands are a haven of calm and peaceful surroundings on a summer’s day.

For the Love of Whales

Wayne Maloney of Bay Bulls, NL is an admitted whale-aholic -- at least that's how he puts it. He's addicted to the big cetaceans that make their way to the shores of Newfoundland and Labrador every summer to feed. Wayne's been operating the boats that go out whale watching from Bay Bulls for close to thirty years. He's the son of boatbuilder Gene Maloney, so when he found himself in a position to start a whale watching

business of his own, the question of where he'd get a suitable boat wasn't difficult: he'd build it. And build it he did -- from the keel up, and from a design that incorporated a "wish list" that was many years in the making. Countless hours were spent poring over plans to get the lines just right, and the details of the deck layout complete. Theatre seating would allow for excellent forward-facing viewing, and the aft cockpit would mean uninterrupted sightlines for those on board. The shot above shows this beautiful boat, christened

Blackfish 1, in progress. He'd be the first to tell you he didn't do it all himself; he's quick to give credit to the good friends who lent a hand, a strong back, or a heaping helping of moral support. Their assistance just helped to spur on the inevitable, though, since this is a man who was born to the water and who has what seems to be uncanny whale sense. He's studied humpbacks and their habits for years, and it's paid off in a knowledge of whale psychology that's remarkable to see in action. It's all based on a deep-seated respect for the whales, and for observing their interaction without intrusion. In addition to the humpbacks that arrive in the area in midsummer, there are minkes, fin whales, dolphins, occasional visiting pods of orcas on the hunt, countless seabirds to be seen on the islands of the Witless Bay Ecological Reserve and miles of spectacular coastal scenery. Wayne and Blackfish 1 are now in business as Captain Wayne's Marine Excursions, and can be found on the Northside Road in Bay Bulls, NL.

The Untold Stories

I have an admitted love for working boats, but I'm fascinated with boats that have been left behind; boats that have been abandoned in favor of replacements, or left on the beach because they've simply outlived their usefulness. In my eyes, they've all got a story to tell after a lifetime of hard work. It seems right to show them a bit of respect by capturing the wistfulness or melancholy of their look. From the proper angle, the old boat rotting in a field far from the water's edge still shows the elegant lines that once set it apart from others. The workmanship is still there in every

joint, accentuated by the effects of weathering. For as long as there have been boats along these shores, it's been possible to find derelicts. Since the announcement of the cod moratorium in 1992 and the subsequent restructuring of the fishery, many small inshore boats have fallen into disuse and lie where they were dragged at the end of their last season. Outmigration from Atlantic Canada to other regions of the country or to the U.S. has combined with a population shift from rural to urban centres to leave boats high and dry and houses empty; when the community is shrinking there's no one to sell a boat to, or a house for that matter.

Our schools seem to emphasize skills that are useful for getting an office job, not making a rural livelihood. Our economic focus has shifted from the fishery to mining, manufacture, large-scale commerce and tourism, yet our lives and psyches remain firmly tied to the sea and to our seafaring past. The provinces of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island are called the Maritimes, meaning situated by the sea. They've been a political and economic bloc at least since the eighteenth century. Add Newfoundland, Canada's newest province, to the mix and the region becomes Atlantic Canada, taking its very name from the ocean on our doorstep.

This is a region of incredible beauty and fascinating history; it has struggled when other areas prospered, and thrived when other parts of the country faced hard times. It dances to its own rhythm, and it will persevere. These derelict boats serve as a reminder of its close ties to the sea, and the pride those ties engendered. Pride in our heritage is part of that rhythm; the rhythm of the waves, of the tides, and of our lives.

Messing about in boats

There's nothing like a wooden boat built by the hand of a craftsman. Atlantic Canada is full of them -- they're moored just off the shore or tied up at community wharves or private docks, showing off their beautiful, graceful lines to anyone with the eye to appreciate them. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes: dories, punts, speedboats, rodneys, Gander River boats and so many more. They're built piece by piece in hundreds of boat shops and sheds, fitted together by work-roughened hands; built for fishing or for pleasure or simply for transportation from A to B. There are still places in the Atlantic region where a boat is the only practical means of transport during the summer months, serving the same purpose as the family car. More commonly, in areas where they're far from a necessity wooden boats are valued as a form of transportation that's also a work of art.

I love the lines of these hardy little vessels, and the way that each builder has a distinguishable style that sets his -- or her -- boats apart from those built by others. I love the tidy joints and sweet curves and suent lines that come together into a finished product that's not only pleasing to the eye but intensely practical and above all, seaworthy, for that's what the whole exercise is about. In a well-constructed wooden boat, form and function come together in a perfect marriage; neither takes precedence over the other. It's this inherent grace that appeals to me about them. One of the joys of traveling in Atlantic Canada is the wealth of opportunities to see these great little boats at their best, being used for fishing, gathering seaweed for sale, or being rowed hell-for-leather in races at community celebrations and gatherings, cheered on by enthusiastic crowds.

In addition to the many chances to see wooden boats in their prime, there are boats that have lived out their usefulness and have been abandoned, sinking into the earth that produced the trees they came from. Others have found their way into museums as static displays and tributes to the boatbuilders' skill. In southwestern Nova Scotia, the Dory Shop Museum, Shelburne houses a dynamic display that illustrates the building of these workhorses of the fishing trade. The Wooden Boat Museum of Newfoundland and Labrador at Winterton, NL, has a collection that encompasses a wide variety of boat types used in the area. Both are well worth a visit. "I'm gonna build me a boat with these two hands, it'll be a fair curve from a noble plan; let the chips fall where they will, 'cause I've got boats to build." -- from the song, Boats to Build by Guy Clark and Verlon Thompson.