Incredibly beautiful – white sand is being blown under the tip of my pen, small white breakers underlining emphatically the green, green ocean. Squeals of children playing in the shallows of the frigid water. The temperature is about the same as Stewart Island back on the 1st of March this year: icy but bearable. There are ridges in the sand in the shallows. Nothing on the horizon – out there is the coast of Labrador or further south, where I stood at Cabot’s Landing, Cape Breton Island and looked east to here, where we all came from.
Off Vatersay to the south, an emigrant ship went down in the 19th century with the loss of 333 lives. Was that any worse, for those who stayed, than the parting already endured?
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