Category: Soapbox

Where Eagles Dare

Posted on by Pete Schloss

July 18, 2022.

Don’t look for Richard Burton or Clint Eastwood within this post, that’s the 1970’s movie and this is still Canada’s Gros Morne National Park.

But continuing with the theme expressed in my last reflection, today was large, huge, at times bigger than my camera’s ability to accommodate, and yes it was ‘Great’ consistent with both meanings of that word.

Today was Western Brook Pond, located within Gros Morne Park and the Long Range Mountains, the northernmost extreme of the Appalachian Mountains. Western Brook Pond is the name, but it is hardly a “pond”.

Measuring 10 miles long, and six tenths of a mile wide, this freshwater fjord is surrounded by 2,000 foot cliffs, scores of waterfalls, and other things wonderful to the eye.

Within it we were small, almost insignificant things suspended 600 feet above the “pond’s” bottom, cruising on the pristine waters it holds.

Pristine is an accurate description for the water. I could even call it “distilled” without taking too much license with the word.

When ecologists sought to evaluate the purity of the water they used an instrument that measures mineral content by the water’s ability to conduct electricity. The instrument did’t give a reading. At first it was thought that the device was defective, but other tests revealed that there was virtually no mineral content. The waters were non-conductive, just like distilled water.

There was also virtually no organic matter, highly unusual for a body of water this size. That explained the scarcity of aquatic life. But why no dissolved minerals and little organic matter? The answer is that the watershed of Western Brook Pond is almost entirely comprised of igneous rock with only a thin layer of soil. Igneous rock resists erosion. The pond is “ultraoligotrophic”.

It is fed by Stag Brook at its eastern terminus, and scores of cliffside waterfalls, the highest of these being Pissing Mare Falls which at 1,150 above the waters it feeds is one of the highest waterfalls in eastern North America.

At one time this was a true salt water fjord that was carved through the action of glaciers that grew and then receded with each successive Ice Age. At one time it was located at sea level, but with the melting of the last glaciers the land rebounded and Western Brook Pond is now about 90 feet above sea level.

Technically, fjords are salt water bodies. In every other feature, save for its fresh water, Western Brook Pond is a fjord whose fresh waters take 15 years to be fully exchanged by the waters that feed it.

There are three vessels that serve to transport tourists on the waters, West Brook I, II, and unsurprisingly III. We were passengers on West Brook II, which was flown in by helicopter in 4 parts and assembled on shore. West Brook I was pulled in on huge sleds in winter, and III’s parts were delivered by sled and helicopter. These boats and their crews have been specially certified to operate without disturbing the unique ecology.

I learned of Western Brook Pond 5 days earlier in a conversation with Oscar, a fellow camper. He urged that this was a “must do” experience. I made online reservations, but with some concern that the weather report predicted over a 90% probability of rain. A ranger told me to pay no heed to the weather report as in these parts they do well to be accurate for 48 hours.

She was right. The day broke sunny with wisps of clouds on a deep blue sky. An early morning haze clung to the ground. We arrived at the parking lot more than the recommended one hour before boarding, hoping to catch a bite at the shoreside cafe. It’s a pleasant 3km hike from the parking lot to the boat dock and cafe on a well groomed trail. Upon arrival at the cafe we learned that supplies had not yet arrived. Coffee and packaged brownies had to suffice.

The boat was fully booked for the 10 a.m. departure. Onboard there were backcountry campers who were deposited ashore at the eastern terminus of Western Brook Pond for their five day hike to, and assent of, Gros Morne Mountain.

There was also a young lady from Bangladesh who asked us to help her memorialize the experience by taking her picture holding the flags of Canada and her home country.

And then there was Ron and his daughter, Natasha.

I have found in our travels that there are people with whom I sense an almost immediate affinity. After just a few words the comfort is such that we begin exchanging our “stories”. Such was the case this day with Tena who staffs the gate at our campground, and Sheleigh our waitress at Java Jake’s restaurant where we lunched in Rocky Harbor. Ron and Natasha were special. They were the kind of people we hated to say goodbye to. We left them hoping that someday we would meet again.

Ron is 88, and at 32 Natasha is his youngest of 5 children. Her oldest sibling is 36 years her senior. Ron dedicated a life to the service of the United States, retiring as a colonel in the Army. During a stint at the base In Leavanworth Kansas he completed his Masters Degree through the University of Missouri at Kansas City, my law school Alma Mater. After retirement Ron took up teaching as a second career from which he has fully retired.

Natasha is a teacher whose summer breaks allow her to travel extensively. Ron quipped, “I did 2 tours of duty in Vietnam during the war, and now she has been in Hanoi as both a tourist and a teacher!”

As one might expect, Ron’s advanced years have taken some toll on his mobility. In this Natasha is his support. Their love and respect for each other is palpable. That and their shared passion for travel are the connections that allow them to bridge the gulf of their years as they cross countries and continents together.

At a late lunch Christine and I talked long in reflecting upon the mornings experiences. We could have focused on the rare vistas of Western Brook Pond, instead it was the rarer beauty of a father and daughter’s relationship.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. During the cruise I asked the tour guide if the scenery ever became ordinary to her. With a wisp of sadness hinting in her smile she said yes. As I left the boat I extended to her a wish for fresh eyes.

To you I offer the same wish as you view the relationships you hold dear. Resist allowing them to become ordinary. Use fresh eyes.

Things Great and Small

Posted on by Pete Schloss

July 17, 2022

We returned today to Canada’s Gros Morne National Park, however we are now camped at the seashore. It was a non-eventful 5 hour drive. Once camp was made, Christine took a nap and I set off on a 6km coastal hike.

The winds were brisk, cool, and constant.

I was following the old mail trail that until 1958 was the sole land route connecting the coastal fishing villages along this part of Newfoundland’s great western peninsula. In winter the mail delivery was by dogsled.

This was also “Tuckamore”, the locals name for the stunted and besieged woods that eek out their existence near the shore.

These trees, unlucky to have sprouted and taken root here, face the relentless onslaught of a stiff prevailing western wind. Cool and damp in summer, and murderously bitter in winter.

It is a gnomish forest. The trees are gnarled, twisted, and arthritic, becoming Nature’s own bonsai creations.

They strive to survive as a pack. Limbs interlock as they have learned to keep their heads down. Any that reach for the sky are beaten back, or die. The tangle is such that even the dead are denied their rest, perpetually held upright by their brothers and sisters.

Trees at the edge of the wood are forced into a rictus, branches forged to offer the least resistance to the winds.

Yet, this is a place that draws people. It drew me.

It is not a grand experience, like a Viking village, or walking atop the Earth’s mantle. But it is an experience to be absorbed and appreciated in the same manner, mindfully, present, and with all of one’s senses attuned.

It is for us to render “great” the “small experiences” with our attention… experiences that are presented to us every day, just as the sun sets… every day.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Vikings!

Posted on by Pete Schloss

July 15, 2022

Vikings… in America… before Columbus… PREPOSTEROUS! SACRILEGE! HERESY! UN-AMERICAN! EVERYONE knows that Columbus discovered America. “In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue…”

Not so long ago this was just another front in America’s “culture wars”. “Discovering America” of course conveniently ignores that America had already been “discovered” and inhabited for nearly 14,000 years. Setting that distinction aside it remained controversial to teach that among Europeans Columbus was not the first to step foot on American soil.

In the course of my Parochial grade school education there was scant mention of Lief Erickson, Norse exploration, Vinland, and the like. It was deemed a matter of speculation and legend, nothing more. Indeed, there is reason to believe that Basque sailers came to the shores of Newfoundland years before Columbus “discovered America”. It is an established fact that they fished and hunted these shores in the early 1500’s, but no proof (as yet) of a pre-Columbian presence.

With regard to the Norse, it has been conclusively proven that they established and maintained a settlement in northern Newfoundland as early as 990 CE. That settlement is now known as L’Anse aux Meadows, a Canadian National Historic site since 1975 and declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1978. We visited today under cloudy skies.

Within an area of approximately 30 square miles researchers have uncovered the remains of a settlement that had been inhabited for between 20 and 100 years by as many as 150 Norse people. Carbon dating, among other supporting scientific techniques, confirmed the period of inhabitation to extend well into the 11th Century.

At L’Anse aux Meadows one can clearly see the outlines of the foundations of buildings whose purposes included the smelting of iron, forging nails, boat repair, habitations, and a large meeting hall measuring 94 feet by 51 feet.

Over 800 Norse artifacts have been recovered, and most intriguing is that butternuts have been found on the site. These are not native to Newfoundland, the closest naturally occurring in New Brunswick. This strongly suggests other outward exploration by the Norse people.

At L’Anse aux Meadows, Parks Canada has accurately constructed buildings that mirror those that once were built by the Norse peoples.

On-site archeological evidence and information gleaned from excavations in Iceland ensured their authenticity. These buildings are constructed from thousands of peat bricks, birch bark, saplings, sod, iron nails, and rawhide lashings.

They are remarkably warm and comfortable.

A diorama gives understanding of how the site once appeared.

Gazing across the meadow gives one a feeling of the presence and experience of those early European inhabitants.

Park staff, wearing period garments, recreate and present the story of these people. They are also on hand to answer questions. Here, Christine listens to the telling of tales from the Icelandic Sagas.

A woodworker, using period tools that include a foot powered lathe, fashions a wood bowl.

There is a smelting hut for the production of bog iron…

and a smithy’s hut where iron is worked into usable items.

From L’Anse aux Meadows we continued a few miles down to where the road ends in a small fishing village.

There the residents had erected statues of the the explorer Lief Erickson, and next to it a smaller lifelike statue of a modern explorer.

By the way, we learned that the Norsemen are only called “Vikings” when they are marauding, pillaging, and plundering, which their women didn’t typically participate in.

The village had one small unassuming restaurant which we decided to visit.

“Do you have a reservation?”, asked the server. We thought she was kidding, but replied that we did not. She bid us to wait while she checked to see if we could be given a table.

Seriously? The place was empty, with only one other couple seated! We were given a table after experiencing our first surprise, the place was elegant!

The second surprise was the menu which was decidedly upscale.

We enjoyed drinks and ordered. Christine had a delicious tenderloin of beef, and I a lobster locally harvested earlier that afternoon. We had barely begun to eat when well dressed guests began to arrive and fill the restaurant to capacity.

It just goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover or a restaurant by its exterior. A third surprise, the non-seafood eating Christine was inspired to try a bit of my lobster.

Oh, a fourth surprise was that the bill, which with tip was north of CA $200. It was worth it.

Peace Everyone. Pete

July 16, 2022.

There were two things that we considered as justification for the 500 mile round trip drive up to the northwest extreme of Newfoundland, seeing the Norse settlement, and sitting in a cafe to watch icebergs. We accomplished the former yesterday, and sought to check-off the latter today in the town of St. Anthony.

I had expected St. Anthony to be somewhat of a tourist destination. It was not, just a larger version of the many fishing villages we have encountered.

At the (literal) end of the road there was a lighthouse, a pleasant little restaurant, some nice hiking, and incredible scenery.

The cliffs, greenery, and even the accents of the locals uncannily transport one to Ireland or Scotland.

This is the heart of “Iceberg Alley” where icebergs that have calved off of Greenland’s glaciers pass on their 2 year journey of melting doom south into warmer waters.

We are late in the iceberg season when only the largest remain, and they far offshore.

As a consolation I did see whales spouting and surfacing in the distance. If you look very closely on the left of this picture you can see a whale blowing. The boat on the right is a “whale watching” cruise, in hot pursuit.

Tomorrow we return to Gros Morne to camp and experience a different part of that National Park.

In retrospect, even without the icebergs these last two days have been rewarding… which reminds me that expectations are not only the seeds of disappointment, but in looking to fulfill an expectation one often is blinded to other rich experiences.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Running Toward Life

Posted on by Pete Schloss

July 6, 2022.

We broke camp in the rain, we drove in the rain, we set up camp in the rain. Driving rain that all but defeated our windshield wipers. Fog at times so disorienting that it made me feel as if I was inside of a ping-pong ball. Over three hours of this on two lane roads and an hour after our arrival at camp my knuckles were still white. A damp relentless cold (thankfully!) made the mosquitos take cover, I care not where because it wasn’t around me.

Thinking about those little bastards I wondered how fast their wings must beat to make that infernal hum. The answer: 300 to 600 beats per SECOND! To put that into perspective, hummingbird wings clock at about 80 per second. Supposedly a mosquito can only fly about 1.5 miles per hour. They must set up a relay once they’ve set their sights on me.

Skies intermittently cleared of rain not long after we made camp at Blomidon Provincial Park located high on cliffs overlooking the Bay of Fundy.

However, temps continued to fall to just over 50 degrees. The winds picked up into the 30’s.

Blomidon PP is a pleasant surprise. Very basic campsites, but such a variety of settings. We are near the cliffside, somewhat sheltered by trees and scrub.

A short walk from us the campsites are in a broad open pasture.

There we spoke with Barb and Paul, campers from Vermont. We plan on sharing a campfire tomorrow provided that the winds subside.

On the way to Blomidon we stopped in the charming community of Kentville to do laundry. We plan on a longer visit when we again drive through on Friday as we head to Halifax.

Braving the elements this evening I pulled out the smaller of two Dutch Ovens to bake, or should I say over-bake, cornbread as a compliment to Christine’s split pea and ham soup.

We were able to enjoy both outside during a lull in the climatic action. Tomorrow is forecast to be pleasantly sunny with a high in the mid-60’s, mid-50’s at night.

In a moment of clarity at dinner “my muse” spoke to Christine. “I love what we are doing. It helps me to appreciate but not miss Kansas City. I love our life in Kansas City, yet while we are there I find gratitude for our life on the road. I look forward to our “next thing”, but not at the expense of embracing the moment.”

Earlier in the day at the laundromat I read an essay shared by a friend. The essay was written by a woman facing terminal brain cancer. In the “prime of her life” she was struggling to understand and accept her lot. During counseling she was presented with the question, “Are you running from death, or are you running toward life?” The question gives me pause, just as it did her.

Death is a destination we all will share. At 70 I see more and more acquaintances, friends, and relatives “exit”. Running from death is not only folly but the energy thus spent could be directed toward embracing the experience of life.

What is running toward life? One man’s answer:

“Sing like no one is listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching and live like it’s heaven on earth.” -Mark Twain

To this I will add: Don’t put off until tomorrow the things that you may find you are then unable to do.

Peace Everyone. Have Fun, Do Good, and for the sake of those who love you Be Safe. Pete

The “Black Loyalists”

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Some interesting and appropriate reading on this American Independence Day, not taught in my American History classes:

Black Loyalists arrived in Nova Scotia between 1783 and 1785, as a result of the American Revolution. They were the largest group of people of African birth and of African descent to come to Nova Scotia at any one time.

In 1775, some people in the British North American colonies were arguing with the British government about how much control Great Britain should have over taxes and life in the colonies. The colonists wanted to influence decisions about laws and taxes but had no representation in the British Parliament. They declared themselves independent of Britain when they weren’t able to come to an agreement. The American Revolution, also called the American War of Independence, was the result.

People of African birth, who were brought forcibly to the colonies to provide slave labour, and their descendants, were caught in this war. In the late 1600s and 1700s, the British had established rice, indigo, and tobacco plantations in the southern part of North America. Plantation owners required lots of labourers to do field work and other jobs. To reduce costs, they used slaves. At first they enslaved the native Indians but then used mostly African slaves.

In the northern colonies, slaves worked as farm hands or at various jobs as domestic workers or at semi-specialized trades, such as lumbering, mining, road-making, black smithing, shoemaking, weaving and spinning.

When Lord Dunmore, Royal Governor of Virginia, lost control of that colony to the rebels in the summer of 1775, the economy of Virginia was based on slave labor. Lord Dunmore issued a proclamation that any slave or indentured person would be given their freedom if they took up arms with the British against the rebels. As a result, 2,000 slaves and indentured persons joined his forces. Later, other British supporters in the colonies issued similar proclamations.

Then the British Commander-in-chief at New York, Sir Henry Clinton, issued the Philipsburg proclamation when the British realized they were losing the war. It stated that any Negro to desert the rebel cause would receive full protection, freedom, and land. It is estimated that many thousands of people of African descent joined the British and became British supporters.

When the Americans won the war and the Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, British forces and their supporters had to leave the new United States. They gathered at New York, waiting to be evacuated. In the meantime, the Americans wanted their lost property returned. Sir Guy Carleton, the new British Commander- in-chief, refused General George Washington’s demand for the return of those slaves who had joined the British before November 30, 1782. The two men agreed that the Americans would receive money instead.

The British-American Commission identified the Black people in New York who had joined the British before the surrender, and issued “certificates of freedom” signed by General Birch or General Musgrave. Those who chose to emigrate were evacuated by ship. To make sure no one attempted to leave who did not have a certificate of freedom, the name of any Black person on board a vessel, whether slave, indentured servant, or free, was recorded, along with the details of enslavement, escape, and military service, in a document called the Book of Negroes.

Between April and November, 1783, 114 ships were inspected in New York harbour. An unknown number of ships left New York and other ports before and after these dates. Over 3,000 Black Loyalists were enrolled in the Book of Negroes, but perhaps as many as 5,000 Black people left New York for Nova Scotia, the West Indies, Quebec, England, Germany, and Belgium.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Taken from: https://novascotia.ca/museum/blackloyalists/who.htm