Isolation is a common theme in a lot of my photos. For a while, that solitude was something I envied, and aspired to. Those moments surrounded by nothing and left on my own. That was part of the way my depression manifested, and it’s still something I deal with now.
For a few years, a few friends and I would take road trips together. We’ve been to Lake of the Woods. Banff and Jasper, Vancouver and Kelowna, but our longest trip was going to Nova Scotia. Packed in 2 cars, we stopped for a few days in Quebec, a few days in New Brunswick, and finally a few days in Nova Scotia. Staying just outside of Halifax, we had a lovely little house to ourselves.
The thing about the group is I’m the early riser. And not by a little. Even on vacation I’m up (usually) no later than 8:30am. My friends, however, are not as keen to get up that early. I had told them the night before, I was going to be waking a little earlier than normal to head to a distillery I was particularly fond of in the region. In the region, I should say, was 2 hours away near a town called Antigonish. I asked if anyone wanted to join me. No one felt like getting up at 7:30 the next day.
So, I took off early.
I’ve said before that estimates for me are incredibly off. I know I’m going to stop along the way to take photos of nature, of whatever beautiful thing I see, or road side attractions that are unique and fun. So I always budget extra time for these trips. Steinhart distillery opens early, but you don’t want to be that guy who is there right when the doors open. At least I don’t…normally.
Driving from Halifax to Antigonish you cross through the province. It’s not quite as nice as driving along the coast. So as quickly as I could get back to seeing water, I reworked my path just a little.
The roads in these parts are relatively empty. There isn’t a tonne of traffic, though it’s probably busier than you imagine. Certainly busier than the roads in Northern Ontario during the winter. It was as I was driving up to the distillery that a small yellow house caught my eye.
Sitting alone, well in from the road, and right by the water. Isolated from the world around it. Quiet. Unassuming. Quaint.
After stopping by Steinhart’s and picking up a few bottles of things I made sure to stop by the house again.
I wanted to get back to my friends to start whatever adventure we’d get up to that day. To enjoy the drinks and laughs and places we’d be together. But as I stood beside my car on that chilly October morning I was in awe of this house.
Who lived here?
Did they have friends nearby?
Did people come over?
Or, were they not looking for that. Were they instead looking for quiet. For a place that was theirs and only theirs.
It was, in that moment for me, perfect. It was what I wanted. Water, and grass, and sky, and no one.
Empty and peaceful.
I grabbed my photos and drove back to the house in relative silence.
Not a lot of time has passed since I stood on the side of that road in Nova Scotia, but who I am has changed. I don’t long for the isolation the same way I used to, but this house and this scene still is something I want. Not always, not for long periods of time. But a place to go to be alone, in quiet, and on the water watching as the clouds roll past.
Maybe someday.