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.
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.
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
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.
Our ferry landed in Yarmouth Nova Scotia the evening of July 2nd. It was past 9 pm by the time that we reached camp at Ellenwood Lake Provincial Park. We had just enough light, and energy, to set up camp, make a snack, and hit the bed. Although we reserved two nights here, the late arrival made it feel like a single day’s stay. It is a beautiful setting, deserving of a longer visit.
The order of business for the morning of July 3rd was to drive into Yarmouth, find an ATM to secure some Canadian currency, find breakfast, and then a grocery store to replenish foods that we had unfortunately and erroneously discarded back in Maine.
Information we received the day we boarded the ferry counseled us to discard all fresh vegetables, dairy, and meat. We complied, keeping our three eggs which were not prohibited. We learned during the crossing that “new limits apply”!
Canadian Border security was sympathetic as we handed over our “no vegetables, dairy, and meat” entry declaration, the pleasant representative pausing to ask where the 3 eggs came from. “Maine”, Christine replied. “Eggs from Maine are prohibited, but only recently… Avian Bird flu.” We surrendered our 3 eggs for which we received an official receipt not good for Canadian replacement eggs.
$65 Canadian dollars (about $52 US) spent at a huge, clean, and well stocked grocery store and our larder was replenished. We were then off to check out Yarmouth by day and on a recommendation nearby Cape Forchu. I took lots of pictures, but honoring my pledge I have severely limited the number I’m posting.
Yarmouth is a delightful “working” seaside community with an active maritime industry that dates back to at least the 17th Century.
Cape Forchu (“forked tongue of land”), so named by the explorer Samuel de Champlain in 1604, is located near the entry to the Bay of Fundy and is a prominence with safe harbor at Yarmouth on the left and a dangerous “false harbor” on the right. Many ships met their end on the rocky Cape and false harbor, victims of the frequent fog and deceptive coastline.
The Bay of Fundy is known for having the highest tidal range in the world, rising and then falling over 50 feet every 6 hours. On a visit there a few years ago we walked the bare sea-floor at low tide, having been given a caution and timetable that unless we returned to “shore” by a certain time we would die. Here on the Cape the tide range is “only” 15 feet.
In 1839 the first Cape Forchu Lighthouse was installed. We visited the mid-20th Century version, affectionately known as the “apple core” lighthouse. I climbed to the top and was rewarded with stunning views of… fog.
This area knows fog! So much so that Hollywood used Cape Forchu as its set for the filming of the strange 2019 movie, “Lighthouse”, starring William Dafoe and Robert Pattinson. The rugged coast and climatic conditions were perfect for the movie, the lighthouse not so much. So, Hollywood constructed a huge period appropriate lighthouse (out of wood) and light keepers cottage on the Cape. When filming was concluded the producers offered to gift the set to the community, but unfortunately it was too large and the upkeep would have been too costly. Down they came.
Yarmouth was unable to set off its Canada Day (July 1st) fireworks display because of fog. ironically, they’re looking at setting them off on July 4th.
Today we make our way up the Atlantic coast a two hour drive to Thomas Raddall Provincial Park, but not before again stopping in Yarmouth to visit its well regarded County Museum and view some of the amazing 19th Century mansions located in the neighborhood.
Peace Everyone . Pete
PS. Are Canadians happier than Americans? Its a question for which I have no current answer. I know that there are studies that have sought to rank the happiness of various populations. I recall that the people of Finland, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden rank near the top for “happiness”. Often this is attributed to a well funded social safety net and universal health care (which Canada has). I also recall that the United States does not fare well on the “happiness scale”. I don’t recall Canada’s ranking.
However, what we have experienced in just two days are smiles, helpfulness and “happiness” in everyone we have met from Tom our waiter at Rudder’s Seafood Restaurant (we highly recommend it!) to a lady stocking shelves at the grocery store who went out of her way to find us a dollar off coupon for some cheese we were buying, to Candice who checked us into the Park and gave us recommendations for area attractions, to the young lady who escorted me to the top of the lighthouse.
There was even the gentleman who retired from 40+ years as a lobsterman and sets up his tent to explain the industry to those like us willing to listen…
…and Barry, who when we asked yesterday about available parking for a car towing a trailer near the County Museum, directed us to his driveway and insisted that we pull in for our visit today.
Perhaps they are merely reflecting the happiness of two retired travelers.
We have often remarked that so many shoppers we see at Walmarts in the States appear “unhappy”. I will make it a point to visit a Walmart in Canada to further my investigation of “national happiness”.
One more time. Peace Everyone (and be happy). Pete
