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MacTavish's First Cruise
By Silver Donald Cameron
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Talisker Sea Dog MacTavish
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My People call me “MacTavish,” but my real name is Talisker Sea Dog MacTavish. Ask the Canadian Kennel Club. But My People didn‚t know whether I was really a sea dog or not, because I had never gone to sea except for an afternoon.
On a bright and breezy August morning, They strapped me into a life jacket with a handle on the back and They handed me aboard Magnus like a little furry lunch-pail, and we motored down the Northwest Arm. In the afternoon it got windy. The sea came up and the boat started bucking up and down, with water splashing up over the front. I was cold. My People took me below. I didn’t like the way the floor kept rolling around, but it was better when I lay down on the settee with Her Nibs. Then Buddy said, “Let’s go into Sambro,” and it got calmer and then we tied up to a dock.
Sambro smelled really interesting, fish and diesel and stuff. A whole crowd of gulls were standing on the dock without permission, so I put the run to them, I can tell you. I wanted to jump from the dock to the boat myself, but They wouldn‚t let me. But I could see it was my job to patrol the deck, so I did that.
“MacTavish is really taking charge of this boat,” said Buddy.
The Harbourmaster came calling, and I barked a little at him. He said the wharves were brand new, and this year there was no charge for using them. My People were pleased. They liked Sambro.
The next day They took me ashore, but the gulls were gone. They talked to the Coast Guard crew, and then They started the engine and motored out of Sambro. We didn’t go very far that day, just through some islands and inlets. We crept through a very narrow gap and ended up in a little rock-sided harbour that They called Rogue’s Roost.
“I've heard about this place for a long time,” Buddy said. “It's really beautiful.”
“It’s like Peggy’s Cove,” said Her Nibs, “with all the rocks and the stubby little trees. But no houses. Nobody around.” But that wasn’t really true. All day long people kept coming and going in kayaks and motorboats.
They strapped on my life jacket and Buddy rowed us around the cove. Her Nibs pointed out a metal plate fastened right to the rock, in memory of a sea dog named John Snow. The plaque was “erected by his many friends on this the site of his favourite anchorage, Snow’s Cove of Rogue’s Roost, July 15, 1972.” They thought that was interesting. I thought the reeking little swamp at the head of the cove was a lot more interesting.
The next day we had a long run across St. Margaret‚s Bay to Big Tancook Island. I nuzzled into the triangle bed up front and went to sleep.
“Look at that,” said Her Nibs. “That dog is completely relaxed.”
On Big Tancook, They ate at Carolyn’s, a tiny restaurant across from the wharf, while I lay tied to a picnic table outside. The nice man from the restaurant brought me out a bowl of water. Then we went for a walk and I flushed up a couple of birds and tried to herd some sheep, but They wouldn’t let me. I think Their main job is spoiling my fun.
On a perfectly calm morning we motored to Chester. I stood on deck and looked at the flat sea and the islands. I woofed when a dolphin came up nearby.
In Chester I hung out with Bandit, a big brown guy who lives with Their friends Syd and Sandy. One night Syd took everyone out for a midnight sail on their big boat Amasek, including Bandit and me. Bandit jumps on and off Amasek all by himself, even onto other boats. I asked him about that, and he said it takes time to train Your People, but they’ll eventually come around. My People also went swimming in a pool in Chester, which I thought was very, very dangerous. I told them so at the top of my voice, but they ignored me.
On the last day we went to South Shore Marine, where They were going to leave Magnus for her new owner to pick up next year. As we came to the dock, Buddy looked very sad, and Her Nibs squeezed him. I was thinking about jumping on the dock.
“Last cruise for us with Magnus,” Buddy said. “She‚s a wonderful boat. I’m going to miss her.”
“Of course”, Her Nibs said. “But we’ll have other cruises. And look at MacTavish. He really turned out to be a great sea dog.”
“Talisker Sea Dog MacTavish.” That’s me. And next time, I’m jumping on the wharf far too fast to be stopped.
An author, columnist and sailor, Silver Donald Cameron’s cruising books include Wind, Whales and Whisky, Sailing Away from Winter, and the just reissued Sniffing the Coast. His well regarded sailing video on the Bras d’Or Lakes is now available on DVD.
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