Trip Report - Part 3

We were invited to Quirpon Island by friends who live there. We hadn't seen them in quite a while. Another friend of theirs whom we hadn't met was also there and had caught the fish they were serving only 3 hours after the fish was in the water.

Quirpon (pronounced Carpoon - I know!) is a small island off the Great Northern Peninsula.

Here is the view from the front door of their house:

And a view of the local lighthouse (also an inn):

The fish was to die, fresh out of the water, lightly battered in that Newfoundland way and served with fresh cut fries and coleslaw like it should be.

Our host had gone through many cancer treatments and had stopped. He's a writer, performer, broadcaster and composer. A massive multi-talented artist. He also paints, photographs and makes documentaries. Their house was full of his work.

Over dinner, he was quiet and then told us his daughter, a doctor, had died in childbirth two years before. There wasn't a dry eye at the table. He mentioned the reason that he had brought it up, even though difficult for him, was we tend to be complacent about modern medicine. Her obgyn had panicked and the birth was traumatic and appalling and his daughter bled to death and the baby died. We moved on to discussing authors and books and writing and art. And I noted he was eating very little, a man of formerly lusty appetites. My observation over the years has been that the death of a child can trigger disease and dementia. I've seen it in my own family along with others.

After dinner, we sat down around the fire (their home was exquisite - two huge windows over the water in their bedroom AND a Japanese style bathtub in the ensuite) and his partner asked him to play. He first of all shook his head. I don't believe in wheedling anyone so we resumed conversation and then he picked up one of his guitars.

And I'm telling you, my eyes are flooding with tears as I write this, as it was a magical ending to the day. His songs were beautiful and personal and enchanting.

I would link to his YouTube, etc., but I think it best to protect his anonymity due to the heartbreak he has kept so very private.

As we were leaving, his partner, with tears in her eyes whispered to us, "He hasn't played a note in two years. Thank you. Thank you!"

Trip Report - Part 2

One of the areas we had all wished to see was St. Anthony, a town at the very tip of The Great Northern Peninsula. Mainly because Dr. Grenfell had started a mission there. We had read a few books on him and his life was fascinating, dedicated to the improvement of the lives of the impoverished inhabitants of Newfoundland and Labrador and their health and wellbeing.

We saw the interpretative centre which was enormously interesting, and were shown a great video of this man who did so much for the people.


His artifacts and correspondence were enlightening. He had raised so much funding from around the world and attracted the attention of many young privileged people who volunteered their help in this then primitive country.

One such book about a volunteer was Dear Everybody. A socialite from New York immersed in the culture of Labrador volunteering in the remotest and poorest village. I highly recommend this riveting read.

Dr. Grenfell's house, filled with his daily life.

We took a break to visit the lighthouse on a foggy day with the horn going.

And then had one of those surprising lunches in the middle of nowhere, featuring naan bread wrapped around curried chicken and marvelous cappucinos and lattes and soups.

To be continued.......

Trip Report - Part 1

If I tell you I took very few pictures and read absolutely no books and wrote nothing and designed and knit absolutely nothing, you will know I was completely immersed in this wonderful trip the three of us took way up north, where the weather was magnificent throughout and the sights we saw and the meals we took and the people we met added to our enchantment.

Also laughter. I don't think we've ever laughed so much together, and the three of us have been travelling together for about 25 years, since Grandgirl was a baby. I believe the intensity was enhanced by Covid-19: the rarity of this opportunity for us to be together when so many can't. Grandgirl self-isolated for 2 weeks when she got here, an allowance of time not available to many. Her Big Important Job won't start until October and right now she is awaiting her security clearance. So she availed of this time to be with us.

Takeaways:

(1)because of my mobility issues and long hikes to see the Viking and Norwegian settlements, Grandgirl hunted out wheelchairs for me which took away the stress of "keeping up" and frequent breaks. She is enormously kind and caring to her old granny and constantly ensures I am comfortable in a very inobtrusive way. Without her I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the sights and sounds of such magnificent scenery and historical interest.

(2) Septemver is a fine month to travel as the tour guides are not as pressured. Particularly in the Viking Settlement where they answered many of our questions pertaining to the lives of the Vikings who were the first to come to North America in approximately the year 1000. Just looking at the boats with their heavy fleece sail would be to consider an impossible feat. Yet they made it. With their goats and seeds, iron and building skills ready to trade with the aboriginals.
Inside I didn't want to take pictures of the guides and thus distract everyone in that irritating way many picture takers have, not being present in the moment. They were all dressed authentically and the sleeping and kitchen areas and work areas were laid out expertly so one got a sense of the daily life. One group were making a canvas for a boat - an enormous project taking a couple of years on a primitive heavy loom. We were amazed to hear that a baby was born here - the first colonizer child that we know of.

(3) We nested in Hay Cove, a tiny community with 3 small inns and many artists and writers living there. We stayed at Wendy Nuttall's place. She is a famed photographer of the area. And her inn has an art gallery. Yes, we did buy some paintings, prints and cards. Gorgeous.

Edited (later) Photo is of Wendy Nuttall the artist. In winter. With an iceberg.

To be continued.........