Kathleen's Shuttle and Tours

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Enjoy! Post! Kathleen

The Bottom of the Barrel      copyright 2004 by Kathleen Gidney

My grandfather, Conrad Gidney, was an undertaker, at one point. People have reported seeing the apparition of horses and hearse on foggy nights (or perhaps after too many dips at the swish barrel) and odd noises in the house and barn. People had a great fondness for swish barrels, and this is a story in itself. It is very worth reporting on, however, for it is one of the activities of not so long ago that has become legendary. Why it hasn't had the same acclaim as Newfoundland Screech, is a mystery. Perhaps the Nova Scotians preferred to keep their"private stock" a mystery. Only the naive and uninitiated (who were later located under a table somewhere) would doubt that this watery substance had any power. Only the illustrious icons of our past, our drinking forefathers and brethren can claim to have braved sticks, twigs and various other plant and perhaps animal life, long immersed and immediatly pickled, to create theri own illustrious, pickled legends.

Usually out behind the house of a proud and yet secretive owner would rest a wooden barrel. How obtained, I  no longer remember, but these barrels held within their wooden pores the potions and histories of sea-faring voyages to and from the run-producing and exporting distant countries, and when empty, found their way into the eager and waiting hands of the Nova Scotians. Only when soaked in warm water for a period of time, would the magical liquid wisps of Caribbean and exotic plantations be coaxed lazily out of the wooden recesses that held them in secret slumber, to infuse the watery abode with their magic of...over proof.

Daily, or weekly, these barrels wer lovingly and encouragingly swished to aid in the release of these potions. The length of time to complete this process was likely mediated by the length of time a person could wait. Generally, however, the longer the barrel soaked, the more potent the brew.

It helped if the imbiber had teeth well-suited for straining, for the hapless flora and fauna and dirt which somehow got into the barrel, though long since paralyzed and inert, were still rites of passage. After that, the innocuously-seeming liquid slipped down the throat like water from a well- nature's ambrosia- with hints of Jamaican sunbeams, or not quite graspable earthy and sweet stories of Barbados sugar cane.

Many of the unwary and a lot of those who knew better, who unlocked the mysteries of this brew in their innards found the price to be paid was in their temples the next day. An ailing visitor to our place from Ontario, after disappearing from the table top the night before and the history and memory of his actions lost after one hour, solemnly and reproachfully declared: "I thought that was water!"- although he had been forewarned. And although swish was legend in itself, the actions of those in its influence and embrace, were also legendary. And likely not repeatable. And likely not for another reason: the rum-running days are over. At least for the foreseeable future. New technologies make the wooden rum barrel obsolete and a vessel of the past. New regulations of import and distribution and the officers involved, would make it almost impossible to sneak a weighty large cask from the liquor store, or in your two-door coupe at the border. Even the much-touted Newfoundland Screech is now mass produced-legally-and imported from elsewhere.

There are those in Nova Scotia who still remember the prowess of Swish-and their own-and if they have any recollection of those nights they swished and sashshayed in the homes and back ways of Digby Neck, it must be tweaked form the cells and coaxed from the pores of those who remember it, and infused...steeped caringly...into the patchwork of memories and history that is ours on Digby Neck.

So long to the American couple who became my Nova Scotia friends. This wonderful American couple chose to experience a Nova Scotian winter instead of a Californian one. Of course we had a worse winter than the norm, which provided many laughs and new experiences and the new cardio exercise of shovelling snow! Thanks for the many great conversations in my shuttle and at your chosen winter home. Your gentle intelligence and warm personalities will be much missed. I know you're coming back a-sailing, so bring your friends! - or not- just the two of you would be very welcome here. Kathleen

Hope you reached the bike shop okay and had a good trip home.

Nova Scotia is the world's best kept travel secret

 Your comments invited!