Adventure 534: Baddeck, Nova Scotia/ Ceilidh/Post H

All friends are welcome.

Wow! The world is a place of such riches. Glad I am that I get to experience some of it. Tonight, we went for a Ceilidh (Pronounced Kay Lee). The Scots of old would gather in homes for evening visits, which they called Ceilidh. Stories were told, music was played, food was shared. Evenings were spent as social gatherings, a chance to spend time with friends and relations after the long hard days of work. The tunes were built on joy (jigs), on melody (waltzes), and on songs that helped make the drudgery of work a little more palatable. There were weaving songs, milking songs, rowing songs, haying songs, tilling songs: songs of life. The Ceilidh kept traditions alive, kept families together, kept communities tight. Tonight, we were entertained by three local musicians. Two we heard a few days ago, Derrick and Melody Cameron, at a pub called the Red Shoe Tavern. The third, an astounding guitar player named Brian Doyle, joined them this evening. More than two hours passed with the fiddle and the guitars sending notes dancing out among us. Our feet stomped, our spirits rose, our hearts filled. They told stories; they made jokes. I took rapid notes as they played, much like the medleys we heard. The Baddeck Ceilidh, a seven nights a week event, began twenty-one years ago  at the behest of of local gal named Nancy McClain. Most of the tunes are born of the old tradition, and if they have names, the musicians didn't bother telling us. They did name a few. One of my favorites of the night was called "Flat Water Friend", which was written by a Scottish musician named Bill Cunningham. As a sailor who enjoys a little rough water, I could ponder the idea of a "flat water friend" for quite some time. It's better, I think, to have friends who will stick by you when the going gets a little bit rough. At one point, Derrick Cameron took time to tell us how the night would work. He said he and his wife Melody, the fiddler, usually didn't make a plan. Usually, he said, "We just do what the fiddler wants". He said this October 1st would be he and Melody's twenty-fifth year of marriage, mostly he said, "Because he does what the fiddler wants." The crowd laughed. Then the stage was given to Brian Doyle so he could play a "guitar thing". Brian played an exquisitely elaborate (All with his eyes closed) top speed ditty that sounded something like waves of hard rain peppering a metal roof, and then it changed to sound something like playful squirrels chasing each other up and down trees. He sounded almost classical, like Segovia, if Segovia had ever suffered through a stiff Cape Breton winter. Doyle's music pounded like surf, but in a joyful way like ponies galloping. After the audience gave Brian a well deserved ovation, the band members played a short game of "Name that Tune." They played an American country tune named "Faded Love" which was made famous by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. A lady in the audience knew the tune, and she won the big prize (The pride of getting it right). Which brings me to another aspect unique to Celtic music. It's cooperative, not competitive. Here again Derrick made mention of what it takes to stay married long term. He related a story: The husband said, "I want to keep the hedge". The wife replied, "I want to take it down". In the end they compromised: they removed the hedge. My favorite tune of a night, a medley Melody called "The Warlock Set", set my mind ablaze. These words poured out as I listened. The warrior's bright eyes simmered with a fervor as he listened to the wizard's chant. Suddenly, the wizard threw a puff of powder into the fire. The flames leaped, searing the night sky. When the powder burst into flame, the warrior's soul burned hot for the coming battle. The next day he entered the fray;  a long cruel fight ensued. At day's end, the battle torn warrior stomped heavily, but triumphantly home. That night the wizard smiled as he watched the warrior dance a merry jig. And as his simmering eyes cooled, the warrior realized that life was good, especially today.

 Ten bucks a head seven nights a week.

 They call this the "Bobble" lamp because it bobbles when the musicians play. In Celtic music, time is kept with foot vigorous foot stomping.

 Brian Doyle

 Highly skilled, but more than that, a man truly in love with his art.

 Derrick Cameron, keeper of the rhythm and faithful husband of Melody, the fiddler.

Melody Cameron, fiddler and step dancer extraordinaire.

 Sitting at the edge of her chair, fiddle bow flying across the strings, her feet constantly in motion.

 Her right foot stomped out the beat.

 Her left scuffed back and forth.

 For a finale, she performed a step dance, Cape Breton style.

 John Berk, our host, kept us all in line.

The three played (And talked) for over two hours. They wanted us to get our money's worth.

The view from our deck. Good wishes, Baddeck. We hope to come again.