The water on our return, wasn’t as glass smooth as the day before. It simmered and bubbled like a pot of soup left on the stove on medium instead of low. Progress wasn’t as choppy as I expected though. We chose a central location on the ferry, but the engine vibration penetrated through the floor, into my feet and to the top of my head. Not an experience I wanted to endure, we moved to the same area as the previous day and sat at the same streaked windows. The rounded metal frames and nails / screws fastening it in place were corroded and unappealing, but efficient. The St. Lawrence Seaway, as all bodies of water, is not kind to boats on the water nor houses within spitting distance. Wood doesn’t have the strength or guts to stand up to the water’s abuse, which creeps into metal and stone as well as skin and bones like a live thing reminding you it has been here since the beginning of time and will continue after you are gone.
Back in Newfoundland again, our next stop: Broom Point where three Mudge brothers, their wives, and children fished from 1941 to 1975.
Shaun, our driver, backed and backed into the Point forever. He had no alternative as there was no place to turn that huge bus around for our return. The road narrowed. As I watched, a deep drop over the edge drifted into view. I grabbed Mary and yanked her over to the window. Shaun made a correction. Gears grated. I held my breath. Mary and I stared at each other our last prayer on our lips. What a way to find out we had an excellent driver!
Barricades blocked vehicular travel from proceeding further. We walked a long way to the Point around puddles and wet gravel road. An ancient outhouse grinned as we passed. The wicked wind off the water, should have toppled it, if not this day, then long ago. I wish I’d taken a picture. I imagined bugs, spiders, and webs. Mary and another woman decided they couldn’t wait. No, I didn’t ask my sister how it was inside.
Seagulls screamed and the wind blew tantrums. Francis raised his voice and described how these traps work. Lobsters get in fine. Once inside, they end up in one of several narrow compartments and can’t figure out how to get out.
He had brought his iPad (the big one) and offered to take a group picture. Not satisfied with one, he took several and offered to email the best one to each of us, no charge.
All pictured out and tired of the punishing wind, we were again on our way. An Irving gas station stop offered snacks and use of the facilities. Everything from hot pizza, blocks of cheese, candy, knives, tools, hammers, a multitude of snacks, and a cooler full of beer were available among too many products to mention.
For a fee, we could have purchased tickets for an evening’s entertainment at the hotel bar, but we opted not to go. We decided on a movie and cracked open a bottle of wine. Mary ordered a pizza and salad at the front desk. The taste was a little different from the kind in Ontario but it did the job. We polished off the bottle, I crawled into bed, but Mary continued reading.
Three things I might mention about the room. The beds were lovely. There was no chain on the door, though it had a deadlock. The bathroom sported a tiny facet on a standard sink, the spout almost too short to be useful.
Giggle for today
My wife is such a grand cook. I bet she could fry a fart and make gravy.
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Next on March 11th – Rosehips and the Good Ship