And so we continue to wend our way through Newfoundland. We've been here...(consults calendar, time is getting quite sketchy; we've been on the road for three weeks now) for 12 days now and we're getting quite unwound, as it were. Right now we're in Fogo and the wind is building and building and there's some rain. Ted's gone out to wander in it, to look at waves and rocks and things. I'm reveling in having a day to do things like this.
Here are some photos of our latest adventures.
After an unremarkable crossing from North Sydney to Argentia, we stopped in St. Bride's for a couple of days. This cross is in the cemetery there.
I came down with a cold, but managed to play a game of mini-golf with Ted. We've been promising each other we were going to do this since before we were married. Cold or not, it was a draw!
When we hit the road again, we stopped in a place called Port Lance (someone had mentioned it at dinner the night before).
We decided to go to Cape Race, where the first SOS from the Titanic was received. On the way in we drove through the Mistaken Point Ecological Reserve. It was kind of like showing up for an exam not having studied. We knew the rocks were something special, but found out more about them after the fact. Fossils abound, apparently, and you can sense it.
Apparently the fishing is good in the little brooks and ponds. Brown trout.
One of the many things you can do with rocks.
Ted had a birthday in Brigus, and we went for dinner in a place called Cupid (the town, not the restaurant). Out of 11 people dining, FOUR were celebrating their birthdays! (The wall hanging to the left of him reads, 'Mother ALWAYS knows best!')
The beautiful little town of Brigus.
Ducks in Brigus.
Obligatory tourist shot.
The beautiful little town of Dildo.
St. John's—we spent a night there, horrified to find ourselves back in city/traffic/rat race. But there was a good 2nd hand book store where I hit the poetry section and said hey to a few old friends. There's Stuart Ross, disguised as Farmer Gloomy!
"A Time", statue in St. John's.
Bit of a breeze!
We figured with the winds you get here there were bound to be windmills somewhere, and here they are, set off by a cross in the cemetery (can you tell I love cemeteries?) near Aquaforte.
Bible beams over Bonavista.
Pond in sunset, near Bonavista.
Near Bonavista. Not a good spot for those of us with issues about height!
The de-tourists having a tourist moment on board the replica of the Matthew in Bonavista. John Cabot sailed over from England in 1497 and said, "Buena vista!" The ship is so small!
The Dungeon, Bonavista.
Here's a beautifully evocative poem by Newfoundland poet, E.J. Pratt.
It took the sea a thousand years,
A thousand years to trace
The granite features of this cliff,
In crag and scarp and base.
It took the sea an hour one night,
An hour of storm to place
The sculpture of these granite seams
Upon a woman's face.
"Silent Witness", a statue raised in honour of over 200 American Service people who died in a DC-8 plane crash near Gander, December 1985.
Nicole's Café in Joe Batt's Arm on Fogo Island is underwhelming from the outside, but the food earns the Crosfield seal of approval and then some! This was the soup.
Ocean at Tilting.
On Fogo Island.
Steps leading to view of one of the ends of the world, according to the Flat Earth Society people.
Unexpected art, everywhere you look.
And that's it for today. We're off to admire some more waves and things. What do I think about Newfoundland? Well, I told somebody yesterday that if I couldn't live in B.C., I could live here.