Nothing says coming home like passing by Mother Webbs in Antigonish, crossing the "Causeway", climbing Kelly's Mountain and finally passing over Seal Island Bridge (with a giggle as we pass by Lick a Chick and Big Bras) en route to the ferry. This part of Cape Breton is, to homeward bound Newfoundlanders, like Mount Nebo where Moses first saw the Promised Land across the Valley of Jericho. Cape Breton has always been a stepping stone on the rocky road to home for me and Deb. It's tough to expect the same emotion and excitement from our kids who have never seen Newfoundland as their home ("my parents are Newfies they tell anyone who will listen with a giggle). For me, I don't think the thrill will ever diminish remembering the ferry approaching after a long family driving vacation or semester at university. Last night we stayed just across the Canso Causeway and soaked up the rainy sea air. Today we drove up the Celidh Trail through Troy, Judique and Mabou as opposed to the B Line for the ferry. This place is steeped in eastern culture. We stopped at the Keltic Cultural Institute for a lunchtime celidh (they actually have practice fiddles for anyone to pick up and play along) and then at the Rankin Sisters' Pub in Mabou. After a tour of (and tasting) at the Glen Breton distillery (the only single malt distillery in North America) we headed over to Baddeck and then up to Sydney. In a moment of weakness we actually stopped in at the ferry terminal in North Sydney to compare the weather for tonight and tomorrow night and see if there was a cabin available. Alas the weather for tomorrow is supposed to be much better for sight seeing and a crossing of the Cabot Straight so we hopped back in the rental car and for the first hotel in Sydney with a pool and a water slide. Tomorrow we will visit Fortress Louisburg for some more Canadian history and a stop in at "the Mira" en route back to North Sydney. The weather here is s***e. Real s***e. (Damn, San Fran just scored). "Dirty" they call it here. It's been a long time since I've been in Atlantic Canada in late September. 26 years in fact. But the rain and the wind are different in the North Atlantic this time of year. There's noting gentle or nostalgic about it. Out our hotel window there is a dark, dark place. Darker than dark anywhere else, even in the North where the snow and ice breath a bit of light into the night. The rain is blowing right out of that dark place and there's no romance in the sea, or the seashore on a night like this. This is serious ocean. I'll relax once the Blue Puttees lands us safely on the other side. Then she can blow all she wants for a few weeks. How and why anyone ever thought this would be a good part of the world to settle down in I don't know. But thank all that is good and holy that they did. Cheers Cape Breton. Nowhere feels closer to home than you!