Dandelions, Moose … and Rain

We have Sun! and barely any wind.

Packed, tidied and away … through the town … past the mobile Open Air Gospel Trailer — dare we call it

a “Porta Prayer”?  I think it would work quite well for confessionals.  The harbour is much calmer this morning and everywhere looks picture worthy with sunshine and some wispy clouds.

Shortly after St. Paul with its bridge, boat launch and fast-moving tide — a Moose.  We drove past at first, thinking it was a horse – to be fair, there was a horse in the adjacent field.  But no, this was an honest to goodness young Moose, standing in a marshy meadow, happily munching the lush vegetation and paying not the slightest notice to us.

Further along the scenic coast road entire fields of flowering dandelions – brilliant

yellow as far as the eye could see.  They must be equally spectacular when the seed heads appear and disperse.  Beach vistas changed to densely packed forests – the thin trees so close together they presented an impenetrable barrier.  The trees gradually faded to be replaced by a landscape of shallow peaty ponds dotted with rocks left by the last ice age – very similar to those on the East Coast.

Every hour or so the car plays a musical tune and a message appears on the driver’s screen – “Consider taking a break”.  Good for safety, I know … but it can get a touch tedious on long journeys.

EVERYONE burns wood for heat, and everywhere you look, the log piles are being replenished ready for next winter.  Long, neatly stacked rows like fences or huge, untidy piles ready for pick up to be transported home.

As we approached the halfway point (Port au Choix) the sun disappeared behind gathering clouds and it was downright COLD leaving the car — 5C . . .  a drop of ten degrees.  Lunch at the Anchor Restaurant – fish tacos and cups of homemade soup for K & B . . . Glen and I plumped for large bowls of the hearty turkey and veggie soup.  Again the cook was not shy in the amount of ingredients.  Definitely looks like serious rain

on the way.

Stocked up at the grocery store then continued north to Cooks Harbour – a further 193 km.  By now it was driving rain and decreased visibility.  There were potholes in earnest now as well –  too many to avoid – and nicely hidden with the pooling rain.  It was a rather noisy, bumpy and spray-filled trip.  The car’s drive assist sort of worked – maybe 73% of the time – and mostly on straight sections . . .  but the rain and faded road markings didn’t exactly build confidence in it’s ability.

At one point a gaggle of seagulls, lurking in a water-filled ditch took flight as we approached and one laggard dithered about which direction to take and just narrowly escaped a boost up the tailfeathers from our windscreen.

Wait a minute, what’s that through the gloom and fog?  Two small icebergs – rounded and barely above

the waterline – hardly living up to their name (but I suppose 90% IS below the surface).  Then more, slightly bigger – their interiors that glorious blue colour.  We pulled over for a better view and noticed white chunks  stranded along the beach itself.   Further still, some of the bays were entirely filled with sea ice and the temperature outside read 2C (it was 28C in Duncan!).  Disgruntled seagulls, meanwhile, huddled together on lawns like so many garden ornaments, shuffling their feathers in annoyance against the buffeting wind.

Peculiar fenced garden plots began appearing along the road sides . . . some were obviously active while others lay in disrepair – their fences toppled or broken.  Barry solved the puzzle . . . apparently people started these allotments back in the 1960s when roads to the north peninsula were first pushed through.  The displaced peat was dumped along the verges, and realizing this probably doubled or even tripled the original soil base, it was put to good use.  Apparently, the fences were to keep the moose out.  Hardly!  The fences are so low or flimsy the moose could easily step over … or walk right through.

Rain was being delivered in horizontal gusts as we arrived at the B&B.  Luggage was unloaded efficiently . .  . two removing stuff from the car while two dragged the bags inside.  Clyde (one of the two owners) welcomed us in. Really nice guy … apologizing for the dreadful weather, which even by Newfoundland standards has been awful.  We have the entire upstairs of a big house.  Used to be the family home, but after their parents passed away, the two sons decided to run it – using the revenue to upgrade everything.  Their sister runs the grocery/hardware/gas station right next door.  A real family business you might say.

Spaghetti for dinner.