The Summer Wind

June 28 – 29, 2006
The wind came up strongly in the middle of the night and we got up to put in the slides. There was a bit of rain too, but that was finished by the morning – the strong wind carried on. By talking to the locals, it seems that if it’s not windy, it’s foggy so they are quite happy with the blustery weather. It’s a very warm wind and folks greet you with “Another beautiful day, is’n it?”

The most easterly peninsula, south of St. John’s is circled by ‘The Irish Loop’ and we’d been told that if we talked to the locals in the little villages, we’d think we were in Ireland. How true that is. Some of the accents are as broad as the Irish. Signs proclaimed O’Brien, O’Callaghan, Doyle, Walsh, etc. We made lots of stops at what they call interpretative sites (actually just information on the history of the area) and took back roads to isolated lighthouses and coves. Fog rolled in and out as we drove, one minute blue sky, next in deep sea mist. A rookery on the south coast was home to a puffin colony but the fog was too thick to see them.

The southern end of the cape, referred to as The Barrens is reminiscent of a Daphne Du Maurier novel with the rambling foggy moors. It’s remote, isolated and extremely gloomy when the fog rolls in. Here and there were dotted tiny cabins with no electricity or running water; outhouses nearby. I wondered if they were squatters. Chance Cove, a provincial park even allows free camping. I guess it’s so remote that not many visit there.

We stopped in St. Mary’s at the Harbour View Pub/Restaurant. It was run by a young married couple. She cooked and served the meals while he looked after the pub. I asked her where she came from because her accent was so different from her husband’s. She said she came from Trepassey, a town just thirty miles south on the same highway and her husband was born right there in St. Mary’s. “Just go down the road 10 miles and they’ll have a different accent” she said.

She brought our lunch and drinks and Fernie asked her what ‘tongues’ were. They were on the menu. “You never tasted tongues?” she asked. “They’re cod tongues and they’re pretty popular ‘round here – I’m going back in the kitchen and cook you up a couple to try”. She was off before we could argue. Her husband walked through and remarked “Oy, there’s nuttin’ like a heap o’ tongues – when I was a lad and I ain’t old now – jus’ 34 – you could get 12 tongues for a dollar, now it’s 6 for $5. I really luv em but me wife - not so much”. His wife reappeared with four fried tongues on a plate. “Now, you won’t have t’ say you never tasted tongues” she said with a smile and off she went to the kitchen.

So, what did we think of tongues? They’re pretty mild in flavour, not unpleasant, but the texture is a bit chewy. Not something I’d choose. But we were overwhelmed by her kindness and friendliness, as we seem to be with every encounter in Newfoundland.

Arriving back in St. John’s, we took a drive over to Cape Spear, the easternmost point in North America and it’s just a bit south of Signal Hill. The original lighthouse still exists and it’s been made into a showcase of what an 1830 lighthouse was like. It was a combination house / lighthouse and families lived in it with no outside access except by boat. There’s a new lighthouse now and these days, they’re automated. No need for lighthouse keepers anymore. The high winds were a blessing even though it was really hard walking and climbing. There’s a beautiful view of the entrance to St. John’s harbour and Signal Hill but it’s hardly ever visible because it’s usually in the fog.

We were dead tired when we got back and struggled to go out and do a bit of necessary shopping (we were out of vodka ;-) ). The winds were higher than ever but it was so very warm that people were in shorts and as always walking everywhere.

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The wind howled and shook Maggie all night long but the rocking motion put me to sleep quite soundly. I’m amazed at the temperatures in St. John’s – we had expected cold, rainy weather and here it is 30 degrees C in the daytime and only going down to 19 degrees C overnight. If only they could eradicate the wind but I’m sure if they did, it would be socked in with fog all the time.

As we drove to Castle Hill Bastion near the town of Placentia and the Argentia ferry to Nova Scotia, the fog cycled in and out sometimes getting dark and thick only to be replaced with bright blue sky minutes later. It was a good steep hike around the mountaintop fortress that the French held against the British – again. And again, the British kicked them out and they moved to Louisbourg, Nova Scotia only to be expelled from there by the British. Historically, it seems the French and British never got along…….Fernie and I are proving that it is possible for the two cultures to merge and prosper.
The tiny town of Cupid on the western shore of Conception Bay, claims that it was the first town in Canada settled by the British in about 1612. Just a few miles down the road is Brigus, which was settled soon after. It has retained its British colonial façade and a man by the name of ‘Captain Bob’ Bartlett hailed from Brigus. His family home has been restored and taken over by the National Historic Sites. Cap’n Bob led Peary in his expeditions to the North Pole but as I read about him and toured his home, I found I disliked him intently. He was a ‘man’s man’ in the pattern of Ernest Hemingway – whom I also abhor. There were photos of him trapping polar bears and walrus(es) -( what is the plural of walrus? Walri?) and restraining them cruelly. He was brought up in an area that supported the seal hunt – the towns subsisted on cod fishing and seal clubbing. They must have been a blood-thirsty bunch. Anyway, that’s not a discussion that I’ll pursue on this blog – I feel too passionate about it.

Caesar patiently waits in the car while we tour the sites. We try to take him to grassy spots as often as possible to get a little exercise, but he’s still not walking well and after five or ten minutes, he just sits down and waits to be carried. We leave the car windows wide open as do many others without fear of theft. It’s a society that doesn’t lock their doors when they leave their houses. Caesar’s highlights today were meeting a Yorkshire terrier and sharing Fernie’s ice cream cone. Poor ol’ geezer!