Out in that bitter waste
Alone with thee,
Thou didst each hero saint
From sorrow free.
No human help around I see.
Nearer to thee.
See angel faces to beckon me,
Nearer to thee.

In the midst of life we are in death.

-Gravestone of Harold Reynolds
April 15, 1912. Aged 21 Yrs


I never knew Harold Reynolds. Or Alma Paulson, or Ernest Price, but their story has haunted me for decades. Their story compelled me to take a journey across Ireland and Canada.

Titanic Halifax Fairview Titanic Cemetery Harold ReynoldsHalifax Fairview Titanic Cemetery Alma Paulson














When most kids used their imaginations to conjure something fanciful like, say, a planet filled with unicorns, I fixated on visiting a foggy, somber Nova Scotia.


The driving force behind this desire was the knowledge that my endless fascination, Titanic, sank to her grave 700 nautical miles off the coast of Halifax. Whatever could be fished from the sea was brought here. No other location claims as many casualties of the tragedy.


So of course when I took my road trip across Atlantic Canada last summer, Halifax was the tent pole to which all other travel was planned around. Being compelled to travel is a curious thing. It was never a matter of IF I would ever make it to Halifax, but WHEN would I go.


What was my connection? Why was it necessary to go? Could it be a thread from a previous life? Do I even believe that’s possible? Do you?


This has happened to me before. Growing up I knew it was not an option to visit Russia and the Tsar Nicolas II’s palaces. Even his vacation spot in the Polish forest pulled me. But since, I have lived for a short time in Moscow, St. Petersburg and visited Białowieża. But why? No logical explanation. Same with Titanic.


Maybe it was simply an intense interest, a travel itch to be scratched. Or maybe destinations that won’t let go of me until I visit have a story they desperately need to share. They touch my soul and stay with me in unexpected ways; entrust me to become a steward of history.  It’s what continues our urge to be oral historians.



Finally, the Visit to Titanic Halifax

Driving into Halifax proper, I caught my breath. Realizing a dream does funny things to a person. What happened next caught me by surprise.


On a silly lark, I asked my friend Rachel to play “My Heart Will Go On,” Celine Dion’s Irish flute power ballad that ends Titanic, the movie. Love it or hate it (which I somehow feel in equal measure), it epitomizes the film.


As we drove through a modest neighborhood we passed a cemetery. Rachel (who is also a Titanic enthusiast) and I were well aware that many victims are buried in three of Halifax’s cemeteries. At the moment we drove by a random cemetery, Celine belted out “You’re here and there’s nothing I fear!” We both burst into full-on ugly sobs.


The weight of the tragedy was so visceral in that moment. We felt simultaneously ridiculous and bereft. It’s over one hundred years since the accident, why were we crying?


Thus began my Titanic Halifax visit. That night I had dinner at The Five Fisherman restaurant. Built in 1817, the building had been a schoolhouse, an art school (founded by Anna Lenowens of “King and I” fame), and a mortuary. The importance of this being that it was the morgue used during the disaster. Of the approximately 334 recovered bodies, 209 were brought to Halifax, and many were held here as funeral arrangements were made.

Five Fisherman - Titanic Halifax

You might think eating in what was once a morgue morbid, yet somehow it felt comforting to be in this historic place. Here I was, almost ASKING to be haunted by the ghosts of the past, trying to connect with those that once had hopes and dreams of a future they never got to fulfill. What was I chasing?


Dark wood and brass details, the dining room resembles an upscale ship’s galley. I press Jenn, our server, for more background. Had she ever encountered a ghost?


She led us to a private dining room where staff had heard voices. I sat down at the empty table and immediately imagined people in Edwardian fashion talking over an animated dinner. It was like the end of Titanic when Rose dies and returns to a ship made whole again. In that moment she’s surrounded with lost loved ones, as if time had never marched forward.

Titanic Halifax - Five Fisherman empty table

But this wasn’t a James Cameron movie. This was a real life location where residents were forced to confront untimely death and a tragedy that shouldn’t have happened. Halifax is one of the friendliest places I’ve ever visited and yet there is heaviness in the fog that closes around you. Or it’s projection on my part, but it’s what I felt in this city.



The Maritime Museum of the Atlantic

While not dedicated to Titanic, this waterfront museum has the largest amount of wooden artifacts from the ship. I’ve been to many museums and exhibits memorializing this event, but Halifax’s museum is the most sobering.

Halifax Maritime Museum shoes of unknown child


Other museums celebrate the engineering marvels, or the décor, but the Maritime Museum cuts right to the bone. Its story is one of a town forced to take part in the tragedy.


It’s almost hard to stomach reading the newspaper clippings from back then.  Gruesome details of young men pulling bodies from the water are explained in the detailed language of an era when life appeared more fragile and death inescapable. They don’t shy away in word or in picture; the grim impact on the rescue crews is obvious.


Halifax Maritime Museum Piles of coffins

On display were items pulled from the wreckage: a wooden deck chair, a balustrade of the grand staircase, a pair of toddler’s shoes.

I stared at the weathered deck chair, and imagined men and women strolling past it, deciding perhaps that it was far too cold to sit outside.  It likely would’ve been collapsed that night. How did it come to be open? Did an exhibit curator open it for the display? Or did a passenger unfold it to make a life raft before the freezing conditions extinguished her?

titanic halifax maritime museum titanic deck chair

It’s crushing. I still can’t understand why I am compelled to follow this trail. Every year from April 10th – 15th, I am aware of the ship’s sailing. Every year I hope for a different outcome, as if the crossing was happening in real time. I feel powerless and yet I want to scream into the wormhole of history that they “need more lifeboats!” or better, “don’t press on into the ice fields!” But I am powerless.


Fairview Cemetery

Absorbing the museum’s account of Titanic’s dreadful aftermath, it was imperative that I pay my respects to the victims. These ghosts weren’t done with me. It’s hard to know who’s chasing whom at this point.


Fairview Cemetery is right in town, within sight distance of the Atlantic Ocean, where the majority of those that perished remain. Of the 150 bodies laid to rest in Nova Scotia, 121 of them are buried at Fairview Cemetery.

Halifax Fairview Titanic Grave Site sign

Identical headstones purchased by the White Star Line sit side-by-side here. Many simply acknowledge the unknown person below with the ship’s own date of passing, April 15, 1912. Families that later identified their relatives commissioned personalized headstones.


Though the day had begun in a burst of sunshine, an appropriately moody fog blocked it out by the time I arrived. Two buses brought a crowd of tourists that scattered themselves across the grave site. Immediately I wanted to chase them away like a child chases a flock of pigeons in the park. It was too many people at once congregated on top of graves. I wanted them to be quiet, to leave or at least appear more thoughtful.

Halifax Fairview Titanic Cemetery crowd

Of course this wasn’t fair, for I too, am nothing but a tourist. None of my family were buried here, I have no ownership whatsoever of this tragedy. I just carry this inexplicable draw to visit every port Titanic docked in, see every artifact recovered, and absorb every detail of its story as if it will make a difference.


I waited until the last tour group left. I read each monument and tribute. There’s beloved husband Herbert Cave and 19 month-old Sidney Leslie Goodwin (whose shoes are in the museum). There’s even a J Dawson. In truth, this was not Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jack, but a 23-year-old from Dublin who worked on the boat and went down with it.


I see you.


As the memorial of the sinking comes around this year, I once again wonder why on earth I can’t let it go without marking it, hour by sinking hour. Coming to Halifax brought me face to face with the final tragic piece of the story. The end of a journey to America for many that had hoped it was just the beginning. But now I know their names, and in that small way, these ghosts are no longer strangers.


Have you ever been compelled to travel somewhere? Why?


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If you're a Titanic buff, you MUST visit Nova Scotia. Find out where to see Titanic history.


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About the Author

Hi. I’m Juliana Dever and according to science I have some sort of "exploration" gene. Embracing this compulsion, I spend a lot of time hurtling around the planet in metal tubes experiencing other cultures and writing humorous essays about it. Enjoy.


  1. Lisa Landsburg / at /Reply

    Hi Juliana,
    I live in the Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia, about 120km west of Halifax. Since I was a teenager I always had a fascination with the Titanic. Like you, I wondered if I had some connection in another life. When I visited the Fairview Cemetery my connection felt even stronger. Maybe I was one of the unfortunate ones lying in one of those graves. When April 15th rolls around I can feel a rolling in my stomach. Now, unfortunately, it is also the anniversary of my grandmother’s car accident that led to her death.
    I hope you enjoyed your time in Nova Scotia. We have a lot to offer all year round. You should visit our gorgeous Annapolis Valley in the spring when the apple orchards are in full bloom. The air smells of the sweet blossoms.
    Take care and come visit again,

    • Hi Lisa, you really do live in such a special place. I would love to return to Nova Scotia. I found it so enchanting, mysterious and welcoming. I know there is so much more to explore, so yes, I definitely have to come back! Isn’t it so interesting, the connections we feel to things we can’t logically explain?

  2. Mary Schmahl / at /Reply

    As much time as i have spent taking short treks around the country, the one place that draws me like no other is Gettysburg. whenever i arrive for a stay it’s as if my spirit has inhaled deeply, sighed, and exhaled contentedly. i know that i am home.

    • Do you have any connections to this part of the world Mary? Or is it just the feeling you get when you are there?

  3. Emmanuel Sart / at /Reply

    Hey Julia,
    wonderful write-up
    love ur blog especially your info about harassing your husband into travelling

  4. Kellie R / at /Reply

    Hi Juliana; I’ve been a Twitter follower since the early “Castle” days and I was delighted when I found out you were as invested in Titanic’s story as I am. (Actually I’m kind of blown away that you mention the last Romanovs, too; no kidding whatsoever, I’m obsessed with that story too. I’ve had dreams about the Ipatiev House. I get the sneaking suspicion we’d probably be friends.)
    My first memory of being pulled toward Titanic was at six years old. There was a picture book of facts about the ship in my kindergarten classroom’s cubby “library,” and I was hooked from that point forward. I checked the book out continually, and by third grade, I was rattling off trivia and scolding my friend Ricky for laughing at Major Archibald Butt’s name. By fifth, it was the focus of my science fair project. I didn’t even know there was a movie until I was eleven or twelve, and by the time I saw it, I was fact-checking it as it went along and gluing myself reverently to the dive scenes. I was definitely the “weird kid” about it.
    I really, truly get the feeling you’re describing on every level, I honestly do. I feel the exact same way. My dream is to be able to afford to visit every Titanic location someday. Thanks so much for sharing your experience. It’s the next-best thing to getting to go myself, especially knowing it was appreciated properly by another “weird kid” like me. 🙂

    • Kellie! Thanks so much for writing this. I really appreciate you sharing. It’s funny how things touch us and push us to dig into it. Why??? lol. We’re not weird. We’re curious. I hope you get to all of the Titanic sites, they are certainly powerful!

  5. Achille / at /Reply

    Did the Halifax Explosion ???? damage any of the Graves or destroy any

  6. karen g / at /Reply

    Hi, I loved this blog. I too am drawn to Titanic, always have been ever since I can remember. I grew up in liverpool uk and my nan used to point out the white star line offices in town, some of her family back in the day used to work in those offices (it was locally called the streaky bacon building and the slight colour differences in the brick work were as a result of ww2 bomb damage). I was lucky enough to come to Halifax last year and due to bad weather our ship went nearer to Titanic’s resting place than the usual route. Despite the bad weather I stood on deck and thought about all of the titanic victims. I did visit the grave sites and the museum, very moving places indeed. Anyway I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed reading your blog and Halifax is so beautiful I must come back one day and spend longer. Best wishes.

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