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Published: September 27th 2015
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We woke up this morning in Halifax and had breakfast with Ray, Chantelle and Amelia. They were busily getting ready for a camping trip that night and when we left, they gave us the key to the house and told us to make ourselves comfortable, help ourselves to whatever food was in the house and lock up and leave the key on the table when we left. We were sad to see them go and as always, were amazed at the trust that people place in us with their home.
We were so close to everything that we left the car at home and walked 15 minutes to the Citadel. Sitting atop Citadel Hill, this fort was built in 1749 and was one of the four principal naval stations of the British Empire during the 18th and 19th centuries. The present fort, completed in 1856, is actually the fourth in a series of forts. Its distinctive star shape is typical of many 19th century forts built by the British military and gave the garrison sweeping arcs of fire. From its deep defensive ditch, soldiers pointed muskets from every angle of its stout walls and large cannons lined its ramparts. It’s
easy to see why no enemy force ever dared to attack Halifax harbour.
The men and women working there wear authentic 19th-century military uniforms and we took a tour with one of them. She explained that at the beginning, the British soldiers there led a pretty dismal life. They received a tiny daily wage, and once they paid for their uniform, equipment and food, they were left with little. They lived in cramped, dirty, smelly quarters and punishments were applied for even the most minor of mistakes. Yet, many men volunteered to join the army to escape the bleak conditions of life in the cities, for a chance to travel the world and earn a regular wage. As time went on, conditions improved somewhat.
The site also has a full-sized replica battlefield trench just like the trenches Canadian soldiers used 100 years ago. It is made of wooden walls with sandbags on top, and includes a command post, dugouts and a nurses' tent. Canadian soldiers were stationed in such trenches in France for three to six days at a time, the officers on luxurious chicken-wire beds and the other soldiers in literal holes in the wall. Walking through
the trenches, I could only imagine what the soldiers went through, listening to the bombs in the distance and praying that they would make it through the day. It was a moving experience.
After leaving the Citadel, we walked down to the harbour which was bustling with people. The Halifax boardwalk skirts the harbour for four kms and is lined with restaurants, bars, boutiques, coffee shops and much more. It was a beautiful day and we stopped to listen to musicians along the way and take in the view of the harbour including St. Georges Island not far away where approximately 1660 Acadians were held prisoner during their deportation by the British from 1755-1763.
We were told that we should take the short ferry ride across the river to Dartmouth as it is pretty there. We stopped a young woman to ask her what the best thing was to see in Dartmouth. She smiled and said, "The view of Halifax". We didn't go.
We had lunch at Murphy's Pub on the waterfront before heading to the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21 – the gateway into Canada for a million immigrants. Pier 21 operated as an
immigration shed from 1928 to 1971. It also served as the departure point for 500,000 Canadian Military personnel during the Second World War. In fact, my father was destined to be shipped from this site to Europe to fight in 1948 but never made the trip as the war ended the day before he was scheduled to go. The museum holds stories, oral history interviews, books, films and thousands of archival images of immigration documents. Here we experienced the moving journey that many families took to start a new life.
After spending a few hours at the museum, we were pooped and hungry and decided to look for a pub downtown that had good food, good drink, and the wonderful traditional music for which Nova Scotia is so well known. We found ourselves at the Old Triangle Irish Alehouse which is owned by three Irishmen and remembers an ancient time when a grouping of three was regarded as a symbol of good luck. There were no tables available, so we sat at the bar. The pub was abuzz with good conversation and hearty laughter.
Soon a young lady named Rachel Davis stepped onto the small stage with an accompanying guitarist
and the fiddling began. She played with gusto, her feet stomping, her hair swinging, the bow in her hand flying. Her skill, exuberance and love of music echoed in every note.
A lone man in his 60's in a plaid shirt and jeans was sitting at the bar next to me. We thought he may have been homeless as his white hair was long and frizzy and his teeth were gnarled and stained. He extended his hand and introduced himself as Dave MacIsaac. He was friendly and open and told us that he played the fiddle at the pub on Monday nights. He said that he had five or six fiddles, the oldest being his grandfather's, which he brought with him from Scotland in 1815. We were beginning to understand that this wasn't any ordinary fiddler as he told us that he had been playing since he was very small, at his father's knee. He'd travelled the world, playing with, among many others, Natalie McMaster, John Lee Hooker and John MacDermott, flying off to places like Ireland, Japan or the UK to perform. He wasn't bragging or egotistical. In fact, he was very humble and polite, simply answering our
questions.
He confided to us that Bob Dylan once came to Halifax without anyone knowing and stayed with a rich guy there. "I know", he said with a wry smile, "because I knew the guy who mowed the lawn for the rich guy". He chuckled and winked and we were entranced.
"You are a dead ringer for a lady I know named Fiona Diamond", he divulged. I told him that that sounded much more exotic than my name. Anyone reading this can call me Ms. Diamond from now on.
After an hour or so, he said goodbye and we shook hands with him again, feeling that we had just met someone very special.
After he left, we googled him. We were astonished to find that he is internationally recognized and widely admired as a master of stringed instruments and is known as a musician's musician. One article stated, "He plays traditional fiddle tunes with fiery passion, and his stunning guitar playing, whether solo or as accompaniment, is industry legend. John Allan Cameron often stated that, "If a cod fish had strings... Dave MacIsaac could play it!".
He was awarded Male Artist of the Year, Instrumental
Artist of the Year and Celtic Recording of the Year at the East Coast Music Awards for his album "Nimble Fingers".
Little did we know that we had been talking to music royalty. Halifax had given us a wonderful gift.
Another fiddle/guitar duo from Ireland stepped on to the stage. The fiddler was a tall, thin man who played with such reckless abandon that I thought his fiddle was going to spontaneously combust. The guitarist kept glancing at him sideways as he tried to keep up with the furious pace, his brow glistening with sweat, his face red. Finally the fiddler finished with a flourish, many of the strings on his bow sprung loose by the frantic sawing. It was a sight to behold.
They switched to something slower - "The Unicorn Song", by the Irish Rovers. A woman from Alberta jumped up immediately and started doing actions to the chorus. She extended her neck in and out to "long necked beasts", made a swaying trunk with her arms to "Some rats and cats and elephants", and pumped her pelvis and arms back and forth to "Some humpty-backed camels". It was hilarious and soon the whole pub
was cheering while the singer tried to stop laughing.
What a great night - Halifax at its finest. We will be back. We will be back.
(Scroll to bottom of page for more photos. )
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Roger & Jane
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Fiddler
I googled Dave MacIssac, and he really is very good. I wonder if there is a relation to Ashley MacIssac, also a famous fiddler, although younger?