Jamieson expected to meet Cape Cullow’s newest resident after his shift. He used his lunch break to go home and get a different pair of boots for the trail. The boots allotted to him as a part of his uniform would’ve been enough but the postal service expected him to keep them clean. The trail was about the furthest thing from clean given its closeness to the water at parts. He then drove his car to the top of the hill and walked to the bottom taking up the rest of his break.
The end of Jamieson’s shift came and William arrived with a few minutes to spare. Jamieson kept the post office open thirty minutes past when he was required to give some of the locals extra time to get any postage sent last minute, so he wouldn’t have minded if he was a little late like Jamieson had been that morning.
The men began their walk at the trail alongside the road. William had wondered when Jamieson had the time to bring his car to the top of the hill and he had filled him in. As their walk began, Jamieson started telling William facts about the trail as it had related to the history of Cape Cullow. How the trail was first used by earlier settlers to the region. How, once the population grew, they used dynamite to clear the way for a road to be built to the top in the late 1800s. There was too much to tell for such a boring place.
Jamieson was unsure about whether or not William was interested in any of this. He was doing most of the talking and was starting to sound like he was trying too hard to make the trail anything other than something the locals had mostly forgotten about.
“What brings you to Cape Cullow?” Jamieson asked.
“I’m originally from Cape Drees,” he explained. This was a surprise to Jamieson. Cape Drees was all the way on the other side of the island and very similar to Cape Cullow. “But my parents moved our family to Ottawa when I was six. Now that I’m older, I wanted to, sort of, return to my roots.”
There it was. Another mainland retiree. He’ll hate the winter here, Jamieson thought. “Why Cape Cullow instead of your hometown?” he asked.
The two men got to the first major descent in the trail that would bring them down to near-sea level before they began the 500 foot ascent to the top that twisted around the cliff. This was the easiest part of the trail.
“I’m going to be starting Sunday services at the Saint David’s church here in Cape Cullow,” he replied.
The Saint David’s church hadn’t been open for years. Jamieson couldn’t remember the last time the church was open, let alone the last time he attended a service. He figured that part of the reason his parents left Cape Cullow and moved to the mainland was partly the nicer weather, but also to be more involved in the church. He had no ill will towards religion, but wasn’t as involved as the rest of his family, who attended services before the church had closed when he was young.
“No openings in Cape Drees, huh?” Jamieson quipped. He was unsure how to talk about the church and religion. He didn’t know a whole lot. He thought that William might know more about this trail than he knew about God and Jesus.
“There’s no church in Cape Drees either,” he began explaining, “but I thought it would be more worthwhile opening one here since there’s more than three people who might attend.”
Jamieson realized that William wasn’t from the Cape Drees he had known, but the much more rural Cape Drees that was home to a population of six. Jamieson’s grandfather was born in Cape Drees and he’d always mention how he had claim to four acres of land there, bare as they were. The houses in Cape Drees looked like oversized sheds and the roads into the village were unpaved and only the only upkeep was done by the locals.
“You’re from that Cape Drees. Wow, I thought I lived in the middle of nowhere.” Jamieson remarked.
The men reached the part of the trail that narrowed alongside the cliffs. Jamieson could make out the chain that attached itself to the side of the wall. He wouldn’t be needing it, but William surely would.
“Yes, although I must admit that I don’t remember much about it,” William admitted.
“And do you have any family left in the region?” Jamieson asked.
“No, not any more. Just me here now.”
The cliffside narrowed and Jamieson led the way past the chained part of the cliff wall and grabbed onto the chain for good measure to show William the way. After they both passed the narrow part of the wall, they came to a clearing in the trail that began with wooden steps that were damp with sea water. The path ahead was broken up by short trails and steps that took them further up the hills and cliffs ahead. From the clearing the lighthouse was fully visible. On any given day the fog would roll in and hide the lighthouse from sight, leaving people wondering how long was left in the journey. About a third of the way in, William’s fatigue began to set in but his spirits remained high.
“That’s the lighthouse I assume?” he asked, stopping to take a moment to admire the beauty of the cliffside.
“Yep, that’s the one,” replied Jamieson. He hadn’t walked this trail in a few years, probably not since all of his friends moved to the city. The trail was much muddier than he remembered, but the mud didn’t bother him. Every part of the trail ahead held memories, all of them sentimental. He appreciated these memories more than the view ahead.
“Can I expect you to attend a service when the church reopens?” William asked.
Jamieson wanted to be polite but he didn’t know a thing about the bible.
“I haven’t been to a service in about twenty years.” That was the truth. His parents started making the twenty-five minute drive to St. Agatha for years. As Jamieson became a teenager, they stopped making him come along and continued to go on their own. As they got older, and the winters got harder on them, they stopped going.
The men began walking after taking a brief pause. The trail continued upwards towards the lighthouse and the waves crashing against the side of the cliff grew quieter with every step.
“Tell me Jamieson, what is your favourite thing to do here in Cape Cullow?”
Jamieson wondered where this question was going.
“Honestly, there isn’t a whole lot to do here in the village. All of the fun is in the city. I enjoy doing something new, whatever that may be. Cape Cullow isn’t home to a lot of new experiences.”
“Fair enough,” William replied. Jamieson was glad he didn’t pry.
The trail became dryer and rockier the higher they went. Winds began to blow through their jackets. It became harder and harder to keep conversation through all the noise of the wind.
In the sky Jamieson spotted a bird floating in the wind, its wings spread. Its white underbelly and dark wings were unfamiliar to him. He stopped walking at the next platform atop of the set of stairs they were on to examine it.
The bird reversed its direction to turn its back to the wind. As it turned, it began to build momentum with the wind and pick up speed. Its downward swoop brought it close enough to Jamieson for him to see what it was. It’s round, bright orange beak striped with black distinguished the bird from those that called the area home.
Jamieson had seen a puffin before, but never in Cape Cullow. He was used to seeing them in documentaries and had heard that they were native to other parts of the country, but never here.
“What was that?” William shouted through the wind.
The puffin drifted away into the distance as Jamieson kept his gaze fixed upon it.
“Something new.”
