This Land is Your Land; This Land is My Land, From Bonavista ……….

June 27, 2006
Our sleep was fitful – waking to the truckers using Jake brakes on city streets and the Walmart night staff piping their music over the intercom all night long.

We expected Newfoundland to be cold and rainy but it’s been quite hot and humid at times and we’ve only seen a few spots of rain. We woke to another glorious day. We were on the road by 8am, not wanting to spend another minute in Grand Falls/Windsor. The Trans Canada Hwy #1 wound through Terra Nova Park and past the Bonavista Peninsula (now I know where Bonavista is) and we ended the day in St. John’s – the final destination in our easterly journey…..It’s all west now.

It was sunny and hot when we arrived in St. John’s – and everybody was out walking; it’s a Newfoundland tradition. Up the hills, down the steps, over the mountains, through the town – old ones, young ones, fat ones, thin ones – everyone was walking. I had a preconceived idea of what St. John’s would look like, having seen many photos but it’s far more picturesque and quaint than I expected. There were lots of big trees, the terrain very green, beautiful big mansions as well as the colourful row houses that I expected.

Now we’re back to the standard of Walmart that we like. Pristine conditions, lush green grass, lots of trees and level clean parking. Gee, you’d think we were comparing 5* hotels or at least you’d think we were paying customers. Near the airport, the Walmart was in an area of brand new big box stores but it was less than ten minutes to get right downtown.

St. John’s is one of the oldest cities in North America and it seems more European in layout than Canadian. There’s no grid system here just windy, narrow and steep roads. We accidentally found the quaint little village of Quidi Vidi just on the north side of Signal Hill and were amazed at its narrow streets – barely room to get my car through them. I spied a couple of men in a lane, leaning on their shovels and chatting; I asked them how to find the entrance to Signal Hill. They smiled not minding my interruption at all and started with “We just hauled us up a noice sof’ rock to sit on” and continued “Well now, you cun climb up there to that there trail but it’s a long walk o’er the mountain or you cun go back down the hill, around the corner, follow the curvy road that winds around and if yer lucky, you’ll find the road up Signal Hill”. They both slapped their thighs with mirth and bid me “Good luck lass!”

So I drove back down the hill, and around the corner and I followed the curvy road that winds around the mountain and I found it. Signal Hill, where Marconi sent his first wireless signal across the Atlantic (as opposed to the voice signal? in Cape Breton), stands sentinel over the narrow harbour opening from the Atlantic. Atop the hill stands Cabot Tower and the view of the city and the ocean from up there is breathtaking. The walkers were everywhere, crawling across the innumerable trails like ants. I saw the same people miles apart, still walking.

Waiting at a traffic light in St. John’s, we could hear loud Irish pipe music (Lord of the Dance style) and noticed a young man in the car ahead of us bopping so madly to the tune that his car was rocking. It was his CD turned loud that we could hear…….we found it so funny – where else would young fellows groove to locally cultural music - ‘Only In Newfoundland’

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