In the early days, when the fishing industry became the obvious future cornerstone of Barrington and Cape Sable Island life, many who had chosen to live on the Island to better reach their harvesting grounds had a tough time visiting the mainland. For supplies and routine town services, they rowed small skiffs across the strong currents; in bad weather, it was a dangerous and exhausting journey.

Some frustrated Islanders bought a steam-tug named the Yuba in 1883. True to local culture, it was given the nick-name of "Sand Flea", and soon the vessel had larger and larger lines awaiting return trips back and forth. In 1905, a more spacious ship called the Oyama replaced the Yuba, but still could not accomodate the growing number of passengers. As motor vehicles grew in popularity, an additional ferry joined in the effort. The Colonel Ralston was much larger and, leaving port at 8 am and stopping at midnight, it appeared the two ferries could now handle the demands of Island villagers.

That soon changed as the local population grew and Cape Sable Island contributed more and more to the region's commerce. Pressure was put on the government to find a permanent solution to the problem. People didn't want additional ferries, which were time-consuming and prone to breakdowns. In the mid-forties, I received a phone call to help manage the difficult task proposed by the government. I hired surveyors to map out the waterway's ocean floor between the Island and Barrington, carefully analysed other data from engineers and appointed government supervisors, and finally wrote a letter to Brampton, Ontario in 1947. The Armstrong Brothers construction company arrived a month later.

The cost of building a causeway was estimated at $400,000, a large chunk of change at the time. It was to be the first natural waterway completely closed off in Nova Scotia, and it seemed ironic that although designed to offer Islander fisherman a convenient link to the mainland, no environmental study was completed. Fish species such as tuna, herring, and mackeral, that for decades had travelled through the Passage, were now forced to abandon the familiar route. The immediate need for Island access overshadowed any consideration to possible impacts on the very sea the fishermen depended on, and the government was equally as eager to resolve their tax-payer's griefs.

An old saw mill on The Wireless Road was the only quarry around, and it soon became obvious that it couldn't provide the thousands of tons of rock needed. The Armstrong Brothers returned to Ontario, taking their machinery with them. Feeling responsible for the delay, I recruited some fellow engineers and desperately searched for another quarry. Finally, after months of soil tests and failed escavating, I found a large granite ledge in Fresh Brook, Barrington. The Armstrong Brothers returned in August, 1948, and the project resumed. The economy was on the rebound, and many locals were hired to help in the task. The income generated by visiting workers was a welcome addition to Barrington businesses. Massive "Euclid" trucks transported the huge chunks of dynamited rock to the causeway site. Mud was layered on the rocks for the trucks to drive on as the causeway gradually extended further into the Passage. By that winter, it stretched halfway to the Island. The men were determined to keep working, despite the bitter chill, and built a small hut with a rustic oil drum heater for warmth. They named it the Sea Breeze Hotel.

When the initial layer of boulders stretched from the mainland to the Island, a four-foot layer of beach rock and gravel was added to the top, hauled mostly by locals from surrounding beaches with their own trucks. Coarse crushed stone was then applied, followed by a final layer of Class "A" stone. When completed, the causeway measured fifty-six feet at the top, about a hundred feet at its base, and stood nine feet above the high-water mark. On August 5th, 1949, it was officially opened by Premier Angus MacDonald, who stood in the middle of the 930-meter "Cape Sable Island Causeway" to cut the white ribbon. The construction had taken just over a year, and cost $600,000 to build.

While many argue that the solid rock structure was not the best solution, the causeway still transports hundreds of vehicles each day almost fifty years later. The ecological impacts from calming the fierce currents on the sea-life that once lived there is inconclusive, aside from sediment deposits on the eastern beach of the island. It would seem to me that the causeway has merely forced schooling fish to seek out alternative travelling routes, and is a small price to pay for uniting the Islanders with their mainland neighbours.

My name is J. Kenneth MacKay, and I was the Divisional Highways Engineer who helped plan and build the causeway most of you use every day...and I couldn't be more proud.