Memento Mori - Finality

Somehow I forgot one small stop I made on my way back from Cape Breton Island. I supposed that's a product of writing these things up a day or two after they've happened, but I didn't want one enormous post to make up for the lost days (that said, this one will probably be pretty long). Anyways, I stopped at the Glenora Distillery in Glenville. Glenora was the first single malt distillery in North America, and is still the only one in Canada. Although the bottles say single malt whiskey, there is no difference between what Glenora produces, and scotch...except for the fact that they're not in Scotland. Much like Champagne and Tequila, being distilled in Scotland is a requirement for using the scotch name. They even had to fight the Scotch Whiskey Association in a nine year legal battle to use the term "Glen" when they released their first batch of product, which they called Glen Breton Rare. The Scotch association claimed calling it a Glen was too close to calling it scotch. Glenora eventually won the battle and released a special Battle of the Glen bottling to celebrate. The distillery is on a peaceful plot of land with a babbling brook running along side, which provides the water for their whiskey. The tour of the distillery was ridiculously short, at only about 15 minutes. Maybe with a few more people, especially people more versed in scotch and whiskey, there would have been more questions to pad it out. If it weren't for the fact that part of the tour includes a shot of their 10 year old whiskey, which was surprisingly smooth, it would have been a complete waste of time. The rest of the day happened as reported, ending in that crummy gas station motel in Masstown.

Memento Mori - Island Life

Once I had purged from the previous days pub excursion I really was feeling fine. I had a little time to kill before it was time to pick up my rental car and take the show on the road. Since the weather had turned gloomy and a little cooler I found a place indoors to eat and chill. I decided to take the time to follow up on my lost luggage and called the airline only to find out they had no idea it was lost. Whatever paperwork I filled out at the airport when I arrived in Halifax didn't seem to have gotten through. I went through the aggravating process of trying to explain and spell things out for the Indian CSR who could speak the language just fine but didn't seem to be able to understand anything I said. The end result was that my luggage was still lost, so it didn't really change anything. I shrugged it off and headed out of town, making my way north to Cape Breton Island and the Highland National Park. All told it's about a 4.5 hour drive of steep hills and valleys of jagged rock and fir trees with the occasional glimpse of water or a small town.

Memento Mori - The Secret Sausage

Stepping out of the hostel in Halifax I was determined to put the bad luck of the previous days behind me. Initially I had planned to take in a hand full of typical touristy sites like Pier 21 (Canada's version of Ellis Island), the Citadel, and a few others but after spending some time gathering up some necessities like a new charger for my phone and something to wear that wasn't going on its third day it was lunch time and I hadn't eaten anything since dinner at Newark the night before. Chance had me standing in front of a brewpub called Hart and Thistle so i rolled with the flow and went in for a pint and some food. I sat out on their waterfront patio and started sampling some local beers and chowing down on a plate full of local steamed mussels. The brewpub's own double IPA was surprisingly good, though the Propeller Pale Ale was extremely weak and bland, and the Granite Peculiar (a strong English ale) had decent flavor but was just OK. It was midway through the second beer when i realized the date, the 24th, and that it had officially been 10 years (almost down to the hour). It was also then that i realized something that hadn't dawned on me in the midst of all he chaos of the last few days - not only had the airline lost my luggage, they had lost my dad. Somewhere floating around Newark Liberty International Airport was the little baggie of ashes I had brought with me. I immediately just started laughing out loud, looking every bit the crazy drunk. My mom had always hated it when people would tell her "I'm sorry for your loss" because he wasn't lost. We knew exactly where he was...only now I didn't have a clue. I decided instead of visiting touristy places I would celebrate my loss by touring as many pubs as I could hit, starting my own little pub crawl.

Memento Mori - An Inauspicious Start

Just a few minutes ago I watched the sun set over the Atlantic from a wind swept bluff at the edge of Cape Breton Island. It was a near perfect moment, marred slightly by the fact that I was being swarmed by mosquitos and biting flys, that was the end to a nearly perfect day driving through the beautiful scenery between Halifax and Paradise Bay on the far end of Cape Breton Highlands national park. Although today has been a day that epitomizes what traveling should be, the trip so far hasn't exactly lived up to that epitome. It's been such a string of bad luck until now that I can only laugh. Its past the point of angering and annoying me that it's become entertaining just waiting to see what will fuck up next. Lets start from the beginning.

Memento Mori - Nova Scotia Prologue

"Respice post te! Hominem te esse memento! Memento mori!": "Look behind you! Remember that you are but a man! Remember that you will die!" - Tertullian in Apologeticus
 

Once again I find myself on the eve of another trip, and pondering what this trip means to me. In a little over 12 hours I will be flying out of Atlanta to head to Nova Scotia, Canada for a week. This particular trip is bitter sweet and sentimental. The destination isn't so important, but the timing is. On May 24th it will have been 10 years since my dad died. Over the years the family had talked about doing something special on this decade anniversary, but over the years the family has changed a lot. People have changed, the locations have changed, and the dynamic certainly has changed. Now that I find myself approaching this decade milestone, it's no longer feasible for the entirely family to embark on some great, poignant adventure. So I took it upon myself to mark it on my own. It's fitting, as it took my dad dying to catalyze a broad range of changes in me. I've learned as much from him since his passing as I had before. One of the most important things is that everyone dies, and no one knows how much time they have - memento mori: remember that you will die. It's this very notion that gave me the courage to overcome my fears - of being alone, of flying, of the unknown - and so memento mori is the theme of this trip.