Vikings, Icebergs and Other Things

“Does yous like Snow Crab?”, boomed Clyde as he stood dripping at the front door early the next morning . . .  “and dere’s moose burgers, too…..ta maykup fer da lousy wedder”. The legendary Newfoundland hospitality was at work.  I popped next door to the small but well-stocked grocery store for supplies.  Called Deckers, it was run by Clyde’s sister who greeted everyone as m’deerre or m’love.  Glen gravitated to the rows and rows of stainless steel screws, nuts and bolts which were usually much harder to find in Duncan. Cooks Harbour is a remote fishing village so I fully expected prices to be accordingly higher.  Couldn’t be further from the truth – most items were similar to what we’d pay at home . . . and many considerably cheaper!  Fresh vegetables, however, were rather limited and a bit pricier.  There was a handy bonus though . . . locals (and visitors from away) could use refrigerated condiments like ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise and pickles – without having to buy entire bottles. Such a brilliant and practical idea.

It was only a few steps back to the house, but we arrived drenched and had to hold on firmly to the front door in case the wind wrenched it away.  Couldn’t see the harbour at all – it was completely blanketed in fog.  Being such a miserable day – bitterly cold, wet, windy and with virtually no visibility, we stayed put . . . cosy and warm.

Appetites were good though!  The snow crabs were excellent, and there was a lively debate over whether lobster or snow crab was the better tasting as the juices splattered across the table.  This is a true Newfoundlander’s home — the utensil drawer had no less than THREE sets of nut/lobster crackers and appropriate picks  Then the moose burgers.  Four patties of monstrous proportions (we divided them into 6 normal sized ones), perfectly seasoned and garlic infused (Clyde’s obviously done this many times before).  We’d momentarily considered using the BBQ outside, but fortunately Glen came to his senses and we cooked them in a large frying pan instead.  They were outstanding.  And rounded off nicely by apple pie.

The next morning dawned dark and chilly . . . some time in the night the power had gone off, so with no heat …. no coffee/tea … and no internet …. we remained under the covers, pondering our options.  Probably the whole town was affected – including the store and coffee shop.  Just as we were contemplating ice cold juice, milk and cereal for breakfast, the power came on. Thank goodness!  We’d received anxious emails from Clyde, concerned that we had survived the power outage.

There was a marginal lifting of the fog and we could actually see across the bay . . .  there was even a tiny

iceberg right in front of our window. If we don’t go now, we’ll never see anything, so off we went to L’anse aux Meadows at the very the northern most tip of the peninsula.  There were picturesque fishing villages and coves, which sadly lacked the usual vibrant east coast colours . . .  a few icebergs drifted temptingly in and out of the mist.

A  full blast of winter greeted us in the parking lot of the Viking interpretation centre – bitter wind, icy rain and relentless fog. Looking up, on top of the hill

were silhouettes of a group of Vikings, an eerie sight.  We dashed inside for warmth.  On a clear day, the views must be magnificent through the floor to ceiling windows, but there was an excellent video, a carved wooden long boat with sail, dioramas, artifacts … all very well displayed.  It was late in the afternoon, but we still had time to wander around the reconstructed Norse houses.  Peat brick walls and green turfed roofs, no windows and doors facing away from the prevailing wind.  A brightly burning fire was a welcome site, and two fellows with bushy beards, who really could have been Vikings (despite their accents) offered a great deal of interesting details about life in the village as it was back then.  He did go on to say that no-one knew why the Vikings suddenly left ‘Vinland’ . . . . BUT WE KNOW . . .  it was too damned cold – in June!  Thankfully there were fires in the weaving room and blacksmith’s forge so it was a matter of dashing from one to the next and limiting outside exposure.  Thoroughly fascinating experience and well worth the trip.

St. Anthony is the main community up here . ..  but you have to pronounce it correctly.   Saint Ant’ney is how the locals refer to it.  A good-sized town with big modern hospital and an excellent selection of elder care homes (all with great views, I might add).  Colourful houses draped all along the rocky coastline.  An inviting place, and surprisingly, the only For Sale sign I’ve seen anywhere on the northern peninsula.  Rounding one corner, a bright orange and green Canso water bomber was displayed in a park — a memorial to two fire fighters who went down in such a plane in 1967.

A roasted chicken from the food store, together with a big salad, potatoes and bread made for a tasty dinner tonight.  The cinnamon buns were a little disappointing though .. freshly made, but lacking in texture and waay too much cinnamon.  Ah well, we’ve had amazing food this trip.