Newfoundland 4

Newfld. 4

Saturday, August 26, Bill's birthday, was a rainy day in St. John's and we went to The Rooms, Museum/Gallery. Above the main door was large sign remembering Beaumont Hamel, July 1, 1916. The 100th anniversary of this WW1 battle that took the lives of so many young Newfoundlanders has been a recurring theme of our trip. The Rooms turned out to be well worth the visit. I joined the tour of the Newfoundland art section where the guide introduced some works by Gerald Squires that impressed me so much that I went on to spend a lot of time in the section of the gallery devoted to a special show of his work. It was impressive.

On Sunday we drove to Trinity, settled into our new home there, cooked dinner and walked to The Rising Tide Theatre to watch a musical, 'The Nobleman's Wedding'. It wasn't my favourite but there was some good traditional music. We walked home using our flashlights, of which there were many in our house, but the most brilliant by far was the one Caroline had brought with her, bought on line by Albert, the guy who knows gear.

We woke on Monday to the haunting sound of a fog horn, but the weather was otherwise perfect for our hike along the Skerwink Trail. I had read about it when we first started planning the trip and was only mildly disappointed by the fact that we couldn't see the birds we could hear as we walked around the highest section of the trail. It's a beautiful hike and we did see some of the stone stacks at the beginning, including the Sentinel that Gerald Squires painted. After the hike we drove to Ellison, the root cellar capital of the world, to look at them and also the puffins, which are entertaining little birds. We got home in time for a rest before going to dinner at the Twine loft Restaurant, a part of the Artisan Inn where we were staying. We had chosen the late sitting, so around 8:00 pm we were dining on perfectly cooked cod followed by blueberry pudding with a buttery Screech sauce. Lit by wine and Caroline's flashlight, we walked the short distance home and fell into bed.

Tuesday we rose and enjoyed the beauty of Trinity, Trinity Bay. It's an ideal Newfoundland setting. We drove back to St John's for our last night. I was happily surprised to discover a sauna in our place. I took one and then we all went for our last supper on the Rock at the home of one of Barb's fellow pharmacists and his wife. What a couple. They were so generous and entertaining. We ate cod cheeks, cod tongues, perfectly fried cod with mashed potatoes, peas and corn, accompanied by white wine and great stories about politics, economics and general life in Newfoundland.

Wed., August 30, in the air again, leaving St. John's on a lovely afternoon. Caroline, Barb and I are flying to Ottawa. Soon after us, Cheryl and Stacey take off for Halifax to visit relatives. A body sure do get around these days.




The painting, The Sentinel, by Gerald Squires




The Sentinel as seen from the Skerwink Trail.




A church in Trinity, Trinity Bay.




A laundry line in Trinity. I think that even a housewife in Hull, Quebec in the 50s might not have been embarrassed to claim it.




Caroline and me at L'anse aux Meadows.




The four of us at L'anse aux Meadows




The five of us at dinner in Trinity, Trinity Bay.

Newfoundland 3

Newfoundland 3, Fri., August 25

Our bus arrived in St. John's after 10:00pm, about 45 min. late. It was a short taxi ride to our Airbnb, where we were met by Cheryl's daughter who had arrived before us. We were too tired to do anything but open all the windows, revel in the fresh air and fall asleep.
Thursday began with a slow morning, but once we started moving we did a lot. Barb and Cheryl picked up the rental van, we ate lunch and drove to Cape Spear, arriving just in time for the last tour. The guide was a shy young girl who knew a lot about the place; I hadn't known that the light on each lighthouse has its own unique flash interval so that sailors know not only that it's there but also which of the many it is. We walked around the site a bit and then drove to Signal Hill where we went into the Cabot Tower. Then three of us walked in a mighty wind to the Queen's Battery; Caroline didn't want to get blown into the ocean and Barb stayed with her. By the time we met up we were too hungry to cook so went out for dinner at St. John's Fish Exchange Kitchen and Wet Bar. Caroline and I had cod au gratin which was delicious and the best $3.00 side salad I've ever eaten.
Today we had another leisurely morning followed by a drive to the unfortunately named Blackhead Cove for a hike along part of the East Coast Trail, through tuckamore, over rocks along the shore, along boardwalks and back to Cape Spear. All along the way we were able to just bend over a bit, pick and eat the plumpest wild blueberries I've seen since I picked with the women in Lac St. Jean. It was great, the weather perfect. Then we shopped for the ingredients to make the chowder in the recipe book of the woman whose house this is. We doubled the recipe. It was delicious. We ate as much as we wanted and still have enough for at least one meal.
Cheryl caught a cold on the plane and Barb and Caroline now have it , so Stacey and I are the only ones who remain healthy.
It's raining tonight. I wish The Okanagan could get some of it. Jay told me last night that it remains hot and dry with a new fire just east of Kelowna.



Cabot Tower from the trail around Signal Hill



The Narrows leading into St. John's Harbour as seen from Signal Hill



The gang on the path just beyond Cape Spear Lighthouse



The fireplace in the original Cape Spear Lighthouse; it reminds me of the Rumsford fireplace in our first house.



The gang at Blackhead


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Newfoundland

We left our nest in Rocky Harbour and drove north along the west coast of Newfoundland to St. Anthony. For most of the drive the road was fringed by a narrow tangle of stunted, wind-swept spruce,alder, juniper and tamarack. The locals calls it Tuckmore. Beyond this on the left, the waters of the gulf stretched endlessly grey and on the right almost equally flat was a boggy land, some streams and ponds. The settlements were small and few, the houses also and mostly close to the shore, as were the cemeteries. Our main destination was L'anse aux Meadows. We also wanted to take a boat from St Anthony to see whales. The former was a complete success, the latter not.
Our guide at L'anse aux Meadows was an entertaining local who played on the mounds before they were first looked into by archeologists in the late 1960s, worked on the site after graduating from university in the 70s, was part of the crew that recovered the area in peat to preserve it, lives and builds boats within view of the site and works as a guide. Before and after the tour we wandered around in the wind. It was great.
The whale boat ride the next day started well too, wind and big swells. I was excited. We spotted a few blows and a large fin early, then the captain swung the boat around, a wave hit us broadside, some water poured in over the deck and I started to feel queasy. I made my way to the bow and stood gripping the rail until I knew I was going to hurl. I made it back to the head just in time and then returned to spend the rest of the two hour trip back on the bow wishing it were over. I slept for most of our drive back to Deer Lake before I felt stable again.
We had a good sleep in the Deer Lake Motel, returned the rented car to the airport, lugged our gear across the four lane highway to the big Irving's gas/transport truck/bus stop and are now heading to St. John's in a bus that even the woman who collects the money admits reeks of the room that is at the back for our convenience.


The flags flapping in the wind at the lighthouse where we watched the memorial show.




A reproduction of a house at L'anse aux Meadows that reminded me of the places described by Hannah Kent in "Burial Rites".




One of the memorial markers that are placed over each spot where indigenous peoples remains have been left.




The only picture I took on the ill fated whale watching trip.




My travelling companions waiting for the bus in Deer Lake, or is it Seoul?

Newfoundland

As it is a truth universally acknowledged that "a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife", so a widow with a sufficient income need not be in want of a husband. But a traveling companion can be an asset. I have recently discovered that a few good women fill this bill. Women are not likely to look lovingly at you and delight in the things you say, but they are quick to pitch in with cooking and cleaning and slow to anger when your navigational skills are wanting, or maybe there have been enough women on my recent trips so that I have not been needed to navigate. The trip to Wells Grey with seven other women for five days went very well and we four are having a great time in Newfoundland.

It's 12:23,Sunday, August 20, our first day of real rain, and we are each pursuing our own interests after eating a substantial sausage and egg breakfast made by Caroline. Barb and Caroline planned the Writers at Woody Point section of our holiday very well, and our place at Meeting Hill Cottages on the shore at Rocky Point has been easy to feel at home in. We shopped in Deer Lake before driving here and have made most of our meals. We were disappointed to find that there was no cod for sale in the area, but mussels are plentiful. We bought eight pounds of them from the shop at the dock. We'd asked for ten pounds but balked at the heft of the bag. They were our dinner that evening and we finished them off the next night with fish cakes we bought as 'take out' from a restaurant Caroline had heard of and chip wagon fries that I could not resist. Our meals have not been completely green free. Caroline brought beans from Barb's and her garden and we bought two boxes of salad greens.

Writers at Woody Point has been well worth attending. We began with "Up Close and Personal - Annie Proulx in conversation with Lisa Moore." It was wonderful. They discussed Annie's passion for reading, extensive research, interest in history and geology, love of nature, ability to create fascinating, dominatrix characters and writing sex. Lisa Moore was a bit more voluble on the latter topic than Annie Proulx. People who have been here many times in the festival's 14 years said this discussion was one of the best they had listened to. For the reading of her own work, Lisa chose two sections dealing with orgasm; the second was hilarious. I have read nothing by Lisa Moore but intend to soon. She was able to engage Annie Proulx in an animated conversation, and I don't think that would be easy because although she's a gifted writer, Annie Proulx seems reserved in conversation. People who attended her readings said she just came on stage, sat down, read and left. We have also heard readings by Eva Crocker, a young writer from Newfoundland whose work I will definitely follow. We also listened to an interesting conversation between Linden MacIntyre and Lawrence Hill. Last night's "Up Close and Personal" conversation with Angela Antle and Mary Walsh was wonderful. Mary Walsh really opened up and filled the room with hilarious reminiscences and stories. The whole evening was moving because the opening act was Tim Baker from 'Hey Rosetta'. I had never heard him before, and he admitted to not performing alone much but he captured the audience with his music and his absolute involvement in each song as he sang it. After, we went for a drink at the Legion, where most of the people from the festival gathered to talk loudly and dance. At midnight we caught the last ferry back to Rocky Harbour, sitting on the bow in the black, windy night.

Sunday was a slow starter, our first day of real rain, but not a complete loss. We drove to Lobster Cove Head Lighthouse arriving just in time to see 'The Memorial Show', honoring local men who fought in WW1. We sat in a tent that the wind howled around so fiercely it almost blew it off its pegs and listened to young actors read, sing and play music. It was moving. Then I went for a bracing walk along the shore. I love the wind in Newfoundland. We had a rousing evening, billed as a kitchen party, at a pub in Rocky Harbour. The man running the show had a great voice and knew how to get people up and dancing. I even played the spoons; I think I might have some talent.

Tablelands, one of our first walks. It's a vast area of rock that is totally different from all the other rock in the area because it was forced up from deep in the earth's mantle ages ago.











Cheryl, Caroline and Barb on the ferry from Norris Cove to Woody Point which we took to and from all events at the writers' festival.











Tablelands in the distance from Norris point.









Western Brook Pond from the boat. We walked in about 1.5 km over flat peat bog; much of the path was wooden sidewalk over wet areas. Then you board a boat and sail up what was a fiord but is landlocked fresh water now because since the ice from the last ice age finally receded from its mouth, the land has slowly risen, blocking the entrance from the sea.

Still Smokey

Last Sunday afternoon was clear, but the smoke returned that night and is still with us. Sometimes I think I'm not wearing my glasses but I am.

Tonight Jay will drive me to the airport to fly to Newfoundland, where it will be cooler but perhaps no clearer. This morning it wasn't hot here and I realized that l hadn't packed for low 20s or high teens. We've had high 20s and 30s for weeks, 44 days with no rain. We would have broken that record and gone well beyond except that on the 45th day some drops fell for a few minutes in parts of Vernon. I was lucky enough to be outside at the time and get a brief wif of wet earth.

My friend Patrice invited me to go with her to the Allan Brooks Nature Centre on Saturday morning. She had won two tickets to "the Raptors ". It was an impressive show and we got to wear a thick leather glove and have a spectacled owl, red-tailed hawk and kestrel sit on our upraised hand.





Jury, the turkey vulture, with the young man who talked entertainingly about all the birds but was most informative about these vultures and their extraordinarily acidic systems.


Elton, the spectacled owl of indeterminate sex.


Patrice with Elton

The Smokenogan

Here in what Jay calls the Smokenogan we are into our 39th day without rain. Everything is so dry that a local farmer said in an interview on the radio the other day that moving around her land was like walking on potato chips.
Campfires are banned, motorized vehicles can't go off road and the surrounding hills are usually shrouded in smoke. Barb, Norm and I drove up to Silver Star yesterday for a short hike. It was lovely up there, cooler than in Vernon, but we couldn't see the Monashees at all. Some days you really smell the smoke, but here it is never as acrid as it was in Kamloops when we drove through there on our way home from hiking for four days in Wells Grey Provincial.

That Wells Grey trip almost didn't happen; the park was closed because of wildfires in the area. It was opened the day before we were scheduled to begin our trip. The hikes into and out of the cabin were hard on my knee but well worth it. The seven other women I went with were really fun to be with; our guide, a young man from Sweden was excellent; hiking on Battle Mountain and Fight Meadow was not difficult and the wild flowers were the most spectacular I've ever seen.

I'm having a good, laid back week with Barb and Norm now. We will go for a last swim in Kal Lake this afternoon; they leave for Vancouver Island tomorrow morning.

On Aug. 15 I fly to Newfoundland. I won't miss the smoke here but might miss the heat, which is being slightly modified by the shroud of smoke between us and the sun and by the fact that I don't have to work in it. The latter is not the case for Jay. Between spring floods and summer fires, he has been working long, hard hours.










Fight Meadow and Battle Mountain in the background








Wildflowers on Fight Meadow








Our group with the van that took us to the start of the hike








Barb and Norm in front of my painting of Caribou Island