Shelburne County man meets writer of note in a bottle – 20 years later

“Mr. Benson; I found a bottle with your note in it today. It was found a few miles off of Clark’s Harbour. It is located on the most southerly tip of Nova Scotia. Eighty per cent of people here make a living by fishing and lobstering in the winter. I drive a school bus and work in a fish plant part time. We are getting our first snow today.

I thought I would answer your note. If you are ever down this way I would like to meet you. Sincerely, Frank E. Symonds.”

This summer, 20 years later, Benson attempted to contact Symonds as he would be traveling with 100 other cyclists on a seven-day cycling trip through Southwest Nova. His letter was returned marked “unknown address”. “Before the ride I wasn’t going to sit still in regards to finding Frank Symonds so I then emailed letters to the library in Clark’s Harbour and Yarmouth and asked if anyone knew him,” wrote Benson.

Shortly before he left on the trip he was contacted by Symonds’ wife who provided him with their phone number. “I called and had a chat with her and Frank,” said Benson. “He had had a brain aneurism and a bicycle crash, but other than he told me he was okay,” said Benson.

Benson met Symond’s son Garvin and his wife Beverly first after cycling to Shelburne County.

They gave him a tour of the Sable Fish Packers plant on Cape Sable Island and an eelskin wallet made from some of the catch they ship to Korea.

Benson accompanied the couple to a local dance that evening and learned a lot more about the man who had found his bottle. Frank Symonds was one of 21 children born to one mother. He’d been in the Black Watch and wore a kilt. At one point in his life he was a bouncer at the Legion dances. “I remember one night when my father returned home from being a bouncer at the legion dance and one of the guys he threw out was waiting in the driveway with a baseball bat,” said Garvin. “My father got out of his car and went to the trunk and got out his tire iron. The guy with the bat decided to go home.”

The next day Benson met Frank near Clyde River. “I was taken in at once by this colorful man of 78. He found the bottle containing my note while raking Irish moss just above The Horse Race, so named because of the rushing water between The Hawk and the Cape there at tide changes,” said Benson. “Too bad there wasn’t a $100 bill in the bottle,” joked Frank.

As fellow cyclists spoke about riding in the fog, Frank commented, “They make fog down on The Hawk!”

Benson noted that only the late model cars and trucks in the Cape Sable area tarnished the thought that his two days in the area were a trip back into time. “Looking down at Frank’s rubber Crocs snapped me back into the present and as I mounted with a few others, Frank said, “You’ve made my day!” as we headed east on 103,” wrote Benson.