Monthly Archives: May 2024

Eastbound and Back, Day 21: Newfoundland Notes, Part VI

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 19, 2024, Port aux Basques- The screen in the lounge, at Marine Atlantic’s terminal here, was showing “The Perfect Storm”, the 2000 film about a fishing boat disaster. The weather tonight will be relatively calm, and there were no kids watching this, so I’d say we are dodging a bullet.

I got into town fairly early this afternoon, after a light breakfast at Harbour Grounds, a pleasant little coffee shop in Corner Brook. Today was laundry day, so much of the time was spent at First Choice Convenience Store’s laundromat corner. Afterward, though, I decided to search for the places that were recommended to me, east of town, as hiking venues and one, as a dinner spot. The areas in question were the little villages of Isle aux Morts, Burnt Islands and Margaree. I went first to Burnt Islands, checking out the lime-stained rocks, offshore, that vaguely resembled small ice-coated boulders.

Doubling back to Isle aux Morts, I found the Harvey Trail, named for one George Harvey, an 18th-19th Century immigrant from the Channel Islands, who settled with his wife, Jane, a native of the Port -aux- Basques area and their nine children, in this then remote spot, where at the time, no other people lived. George and his eldest daughter, Ann, rescued several sailors from the sinking ships, the Despatch and the Rankin, in 1828 and 1838, respectively. Here are scenes from the Harvey Trail.

Finally, Margaree, a tiny village that lies southwest of Isle aux Morts, has Seacoast Restaurant, with extraordinarily tasty seafood, beef and pork dishes, served by a group of gracious, very unassuming women. The owner brushes off compliments, but I know she is proud of the operation. It was a vibrant Sunday night crowd, made all the more so by the day being Pentecost Sunday AND the middle of a long Victoria Day weekend.

That made the relatively light crowd on tonight’s sailing to North Sydney seem rather strange, but maybe it’s a sign that people want to celebrate closer to home. I leave off here, after successfully dealing with my bug-a-boo, backing the car up longer than ten feet. The patient ferrymen got me to back Sportage up some forty feet-without banging into anything. That’s progress!

St. James Anglican Church, Port aux Basques, NL
Neighbourhood on north side of Port aux Basques
Burnt Islands,NL
Burnt Islands, NL
The story of George Harvey, Isle aux Morts, NL
Shipwreck capital of Newfoundland
Seacoast Restaurant, Margaree(NL)

Eastbound and Back, Day 20: Newfoundland Notes, Part V

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 18, 2024, Corner Brook- The giddy photographer stopped, rolled down his car window, and called out to the two moose who were nonchalantly grazing away, in a field adjacent to the road. He snapped a couple of photos, as I was passing by in the opposite direction, to tend to other business. When I got back, the shutterbug and moose had disappeared. Oh, well. They are probably not the last moose I will see this trip. There have been four, so far.

After opting for a light breakfast, this morning, I left Carriage Inn around 10:30. The road back to Corner Brook was generally lightly-trafficked and the weather was delightful. A lone cow moose, grazing off the road, was cause for people to flash bright lights at one another. The big elk could have cared less. She was way off the road and the grass must have been sweet.

Carriage Inn, Grand Falls-Windsor
Meeting with Baha’is of Corner Brook
Crow Gulch mural

I arrived at River’s End Motel, around 2, and was directed to use a code, in order to get into my room. This seems to be an anomaly, as yet, absentee owners and a brief, every-other-day housekeeping service. I am only here overnight, so it makes little difference to me. The room is clean and comfortable, so we’re good.

My visit to Baha’i friends here was more old school-a hearty and joyful conversation, of about two hours, followed by a simple and satisfying meal of pizza and chicken soup. Then, more conversation, focusing on ongoing issues with treatment of First Nations people in certain parts of Canada. I have seen some strides being made in that regard, in the west of the country, at least, and in some areas of Cape Breton, but as in the U.S., much remains to be accomplished.

Crow Gulch was an area, largely settled by Miqmaq families, just above a paper mill, on the outskirts of Corner Brook. It was the object of scorn from those who considered themselves “better off”, as the homes were seen as being haphazardly built, with few having electricity or running water. The community lasted from the 1920s until about 1980, when it was vacated and bulldozed. Crow Gulch is now honoured by a mural and by a book of poetry, written by a descendant of two of its residents. Those looking back on the place today recall it as having been a vibrant community, where the joy of close-knot families outweighed the hardships caused by outward poverty.

It is places like Crow Gulch that are as important to me, if not more important than, any swanky or upscale locales. The spirituality of a given place is its most important feature, and such strength of purpose is stronger, quite often, in rural communities than in areas where the pace of life is more brisk. This is recognized by many, in the video below.

Tomorrow marks my final day in Newfoundland, for this year, at least. It’s gratifying that I would be welcome back here, to stand with those making a decent life for themselves in this beautiful and sometimes harsh land of four seasons: Just another place to call home.

Eastbound and Back, Day 19: Newfoundland Notes, Part IV

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 17, 2024, Grand Falls-Windsor, NL- It was a bit brisk, of a sudden, as I paid for gas, so I looked about for my coat. Oops! No coat!! I called the Mary Brown’s Chicken outlet, where I;d had lunch-and “Yes, we found a coat hanging over a chair”. So, having been known to backtrack for a lot less, there I went and retrieved the coat, that I may well still need, in remaining days here in the North Country.

Check-out happened fast, this morning, as Pascal Vigneau and his wife were my drivers to the ferry terminal. They are the owners of Auberge Quatre Temps, heads of a delightful family which operates the warm and comfortable establishment, tight up against the massif that crowns the island of St. Pierre. In a few days here, I have come to be known, island-wide, it seems, as the “walking American”. That comes with the territory, and it isn’t the first time- folks in Daet, Camarines Norte, Philippines, bestowed the same sobriquet, last fall. Anyhow, I will long remember this wonderful family, and the community of St. Pierre. Pascal said “Maybe we’ll meet again somewhere, some day.” It could very well be that I return to the island, in the not-too-distant future-and with at least one friend along.

Once off the boat, and past the short, but thorough, customs interview, I talked with a trio of Canadian photojournalists, whilst en route to the secure parking lot where our respective vehicles awaited. They described terse experiences with authorities, in unspecified Central American countries, among their travels while carrying cameras, tripods and other sensitive equipment. The U.S., it seems, is also rather fastidious about such matters, for any foreign national bringing unusual items into the country. Well, even for a citizen, it is so. I had to carefully explain, two years ago, my reasons for having camouflage attire in my SUV’s back area (I was bringing the clothing to my son, whose residence was on the itinerary, during the last long journey of this kind.) Freedom isn’t free.

Today was not a photo-centric day. Other than a simple, filling fish and chips plate, at Pauline’s Place, in Come-by-Chance, I was mostly concerned with finding a spot for the night-yet what a spot it is: Carriage House Inn, here in the mid point of Central Newfoundland, is yet another delightful, small hostel-like establishment. I have a tiny room, reminiscent of my childhood bedroom, so I will sleep deeply and well. Tomorrow, it’s back to Corner Brook, this time to meet one of Kathy’s friends, and connect with the small group of Baha’is. It’ll be an awesome, sunny day.

Eastbound and Back, Day 18: France in North America, Part II

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 16, 2024, St. Pierre- White-breasted nuthatch sat on a small fir branch, and chirped at me to follow THIS way. Going in the direction he was flying, I heard rushing water, indicating there was a small waterfall. I followed a short path, through the firs, and there was indeed a small, but feisty, stream that had produced the makings of a pair of rills, just noisy enough to catch the attention of bird and man. The nuthatch flew off and I headed back towards the Anse a Pierre Road, and Auberge Quatre Temps.

Small rill, near Anse a Pierre

I seem to be getting greeted more by happy, chatty dogs and small children today. That is a good way to live. A large black lab/Rottweiler mix stood guard at one of the houses I passed, but was more glad to see me than perched ready to guard his owner’s house. A little Shih-tsu came out the sidewalk, a bit later, and wanted to play and have her belly rubbed. Her owner had other plans, and called to her: “Remy! Maintenant!”, so playtime ended. A couple of boys who were heading home for lunch (Students can still do that, here) were curious as to why I was inside the cathedral, when there were no lights on. I didn’t need lights for a brief visit, was my answer. There also was no other activity inside, other than a curious Americain saying a few Baha’i prayers and taking photos.

Cathedral de Sacre Coeur, St. Pierre

Today was a good day for crepes, so I stopped in at Roc Cafe, just as the lunch hour was starting (It’s 12-2, in the French style), for a plate of 3 Fromage Galettes, avec jambon. The young waiter gave a quizzical expression, when I mentioned having enjoyed galettes in Amiens and in Lille, ten years ago. It’s true that the dish is essentially Breton in origin, but other parts of northern France have jumped on the galette bandwagon, much as in the U.S., one can get Maine lobster in Phoenix, jambalaya and gumbo in Buffalo, Cuban sandwiches in Seattle and just about any style of barbecue anywhere besides where the style originated. I did recall later, having had my very first galettes at Daily Gourmand, in Vannes, exactly where they would be expected. Galettes are buckwheat crepes, usually with a savory filling.

As indicated earlier, I spent a good part of the day on the trail. My route went from just north of Quatre Temps to a small rock overlooking Anse a Pierre, and the island of Langlade, five kilometers to the west. There were ups and downs, bogs to be worked around, a section of road, which served as a good marker-as this taiga/tundra landscape is just large enough for a wanderer to get lost. Fortunately, I also learned enough about hiking in boggy terrain, at L’Anse aux Meadows, two years ago, so that I scanned for trails below my vantage point, and was able to stay on course.

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Ile Langlade, from Anse a Pierre

Now, I am back at Quatre Temps, and it is worthwhile to mention dinner. Chef Cristelle is of Michelin quality, even though she would be shocked to hear such a thing. Last night’s fresh-caught, grilled cod was accompanied by smooth risotto and freshly picked lettuce, in a light vinaigrette. This gem of a plate was followed by large pear halves, topped with caramel sauce, vanilla ice cream and not-too-sweet whipped cream. Now you know why, along with the galettes, I was easily enticed into this afternoon’s eight kilometer hike. This evening, Cristelle proposed two pressed smoked salmon cakes, served chilled, with more smoked salmon flakes on a bed of fresh lettuce and cherry tomatoes. That filled the bill nicely. Of course, 3 mini-profiteroles with ice cream and caramel sauce were the dessert, but hey, this is France-for all intents and purposes.

Tomorrow will see me back in Newfoundland, with more joyful adventures to follow-including a visit with Baha’is in Corner Brook. One of them is K’s friend from the Philippines, so I already feel connected.

Eastbound and Back, Day 17: France in North America, Part I

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 15, 2024, St. Pierre, SPM- The little girl was proudly pushing her training-wheeled bicycle up the sidewalk of the waterfront park, confidently returning my greeting of “Bonjour”. Continuing my walk, my eyes cast about, for who the adult accompanying her might be, as even in this small town, on a Eurocentric island in the North Atlantic, there is a concern for safety. Not to worry- Maman called to her petite ange, who told her that she would not go onto the street. For good measure, Maman went up to her daughter and brought bicycle and child back into the park. Life on Ile St. Pierre thus proceeds as it does elsewhere in La Belle France, the major part of which lies a minimum of 3822 km/ 2375 mi. (Brest, Bretagne) to the east.

Bruce, the sole attendant these days, at Abbie’s Garden, named for his late first wife, wished aloud that he’d had a better sleep. Still, he put together a fine breakfast and wished me well, on my visit to St. Pierre and the rest of my journey. Then, he said he was going back to bed. I wish him well, and a speedy recovery from what seemed to ail him this morning.

The drive over to Fortune, and the ferry office, was no big deal, but I did have to ask where the ticket office was, as all signs point to the actual terminal. A kind Canadian customs officer steered me in the right direction, tickets were purchased, Sportage was safely parked in a secure lot up the road, I caught a shuttle back to the terminal, and an hour later, twenty-five of us were en route to the sole remnant of French North America, north of the Caribbean Sea.

My interest in St. Pierre & Miquelon is not so much in its being French, as in its existence as a mini-state of sorts-a North American Andorra, or Nauru. Much of the approach to SPM is standard: Bags are inspected, at the Canadian Border Station, in Fortune and again upon arrival in St. Pierre; passports are stamped, with the imprimatur of St. Pierre & Miquelon; a short, but winding, walkway leads out of the terminal.

My shuttle driver, Julie, was waiting, with a sign that had my name imprinted. There was a hearty “Bienvenu!”, and I thanked her, in my halting, tentative French (It’s been ten years since my visit to La Patrie and a brief passage through Quebec, in 2022, scarcely required much usage of La Langue Maternelle at all). Excuses aside, we agreed to toggle between our two languages, and indeed that seems to be the sentiment of everyone I encountered this afternoon.

Auberge Quatre Temps

After settling in, at Auberge Quatre Temps, I got my bearings from the complimentary map, then set out to check the downtown and waterfront areas. Centre Ville has the modest Cathedral de Sacre Coeur, a Prefectural Office and a City Hall (Hotel de Ville). There are several boulangeries and a few Patisseries (One never goes into a bread shop, looking for pastry-or vice versa-save for the one baker here, who offers both). St. Pierre has a public library (Bibliotheque) and a large athletic field, where a few intrepid fathers were coaching their sons and daughters, on the finer points of soccer.

Cathedrale de Sacre Coeur

At the waterfront, once mother and daughter left, I encountered a small group of adults and children, having a celebratory gathering of some kind. The adults were putting on Disney character costumes, which fazed the kids not at all. Two boys were chasing one another around the base of the closed lighthouse, and two girls were helping their elders with the costumes. As I left, and prepared to photograph the four cannons that stand in repose, a bit to the north of the lighthouse, a young woman dashed out of a car, marked “St. Pierre et Miquelon”, tripod in hand, set up the device, focused on a vessel in the bay, took her photos and dashed back to the car, speeding off-towards whatever office awaiting her return.

Lighthouse at Havre St. Pierre

I saw quite a few people driving somewhat hurriedly, stopping quickly, dashing out of their cars, doing a brisk errand and then hopping back in the cars and zipping off to whatever was next. Pedestrians, on the other hand, were relaxed and happy, as they made their evening rounds. When I found myself a bit north of Quatre Temps, a lady was glad to offer direction-in both French and English. This will be a fine two-day retourne a France.

Eastbound and Back, Day 16: Newfoundland Notes, Part III- Bluster, Followed by Quiet

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 14, 2024, Grand Bank-

As I stood atop Signal Hill, the wind howled in a way that made me think of the few of us taking in the majesty of this St. John’s landmark as intrepid. I immediately thereafter conjured a snarky voice saying “ I can think of another word, ending in -pid.”

The Battery (Cabot Tower), Signal Hill, St. John’s

I had spent an hour or so at a cozy coffee shop, among very warm and friendly folks, so discomfort was not hard to take for a bit. On a less blustery day, I could very well have walked from Battery Cafe to THE Battery, or Cabot Tower, as it is called in memory of the 400th Anniversary of John Cabot’s landing in Newfoundand.

With a sense that I wanted to get to an old haunt, Abbie’s Garden, I punched in directions to TCH West. After getting through the funky neighbourhood of Quidi Vidi, I was westbound, in short order.

Just before turning off on NL 210, I gassed up at the pump. North Atlantic is one of those places where paying at the pump is new, so a hefty security deposit was tacked on. I later learned that this will fall off my tab, in a few days, with only the actual purchase price remaining. Lesson: In Newfoundland, pay inside.

I got to Abbie’s Garden, around 5:30, finding that I was the sole guest. Bruce put me in the same room I had two years ago and came by later, with one of his signature pastries; this time, a freshly baked cinnamon roll.

The place, in a drizzly ambiance, was eerily quiet. Just two older men, at opposite ends of the property, with memories of their respective beloved wives and going forward with new love interests.

I ended the evening watching the first “Hunger Games” film. It struck the same chord as when I first saw it. I am still skeptical of anyone in authority who claims to have all the answers.

Eastbound and Back, Day 15: Newfoundland Notes, Part II

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 13, 2024, St. John’s-

It snowed a bit, across this vast island, on Mother’s Day, reminding a couple of ladies, at the small cafe in Hampden, of the sacrifices they end up making, even on their special days.

Rain and snow are always followed by sunshine, though, and so it was today. After a short walk around Botwood, and checking out the old North American Forces World War II murals, I headed towards Twillingate, on the off chance I’d catch a glimpse of an iceberg or two. It did not happen, but the terrain and crystal-clear waters of New World Island made for a splendid little visit.

So, too, was a stop at Beothuk Interpretation Centre, Boyd’s Cove.The building was closed, but I spent almost two hours walking the paths and sitting in meditation. I left a second rose quartz heart, between two birch trees, at a picnic area, just shy of the Spirit Garden, where I placed a wooden rose, fashioned by a Miqmaq elder on Cape Breton.

More text later, but for now, here are some scenes of Botwood, Twillingate and Boyd’s Cove.

Botwood’s War Memorial
Beothuk Memorial, Botwood
Annie’s Harbourside Restaurant, Twillingate
Water at Sleepy Cove, Twillingate
Long Point Lighthouse,Twillingate
View of Sleepy Cove
Beothuk Interpretation Centre, Boyd’s Cove
Levi’s Landing, Boyd’s Cove

The day ended with rain, darkness and another carefully-guided arrival at Memorial University. More on that and on First Nations people in Newfoundland, in the next few posts.

Eastbound and Back, Day 14: Universal Mothers

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, children, Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 12, 2024, Botwood, NL- Newfoundlanders seem to be fastidious about not mixing strangers at table,in a restaurant- even when the patrons themselves are amenable and there is plenty of space for relative privacy. I noticed this, the last time I was with friends in Grand Bank and again today, at a small cafe in Hampden, a little village between Deer Lake and Grand Falls-Windsor. I found myself seated alone, at a table with eight seats and the hostess steadfastly guarded my space, making a party of four wait until another table had been cleared. I used to be leery of sitting with strangers. Now, if others need a seat and it’s just me at a large table, I invite them to sit.

Anyway, today being Mother’s Day, there were crowds at all three places I took meals: Carriage House, at Glynmill Inn (nice Breakfast Bowl); interesting Crunchy Burger (crispy cod) at Lisa’s Cafe (above-mentioned) and Dannini’s, downstairs from my room at Exploits Inn and Suites, here in Botwood, just east of Grand Falls- Windsor (a bacon grilled cheese, which I brought up here).

Reading another friend’s post on traditions and our need to get together, I thought of all those who deserve honour today: My Mom, who had us all around last weekend, and hopefully saw some family this time; my sister and nieces, all of whom are exemplary stewards of young lives; Penny, who gave the best years of her life to raise our son; Kathy, still giving her all to her sons who are still at home; and all the millions, or billions, of women doing much the same, worldwide. I thought of all the mothers in war zones, and how there will come a day, when they will arise and collectively tell the politicians that no land and no aspiration are worth the sacrifice of their children’s lives.

I am okay, for now, with being on my own on days like this, or even on Father’s Day, because I was raised by people who thought nothing of sacrificing themselves, for my sake and that of my siblings. I was joined, for so many years , by a selfless woman, who gave all she had for her child. I have the privilege of friendship with another woman who lives for the betterment and well-being of her three children.

I have the honour of being treated well, by Mother Earth.

Robert’s Arm, Newfoundland

Oh, it snowed in some places along the way. Here’s a scene that is not far from Glynmill Inn

Eastbound and Back, Day 13: Newfoundland Notes, Part I

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 11, 2024, Corner Brook-

I was able to add this photo, of sunrise on our approach to Channel-Port aux Basques, earlier today. Then, the WP editor kicked in, and announced that “You have no posts”. That was with regard to the app on my i-Phone. That app will remain unused, until I can get that nonsense straightened out. This is one example of why AI will never replace the human mind. AI is quirky, rigid, inflexible. Humans are quirky, too, and can be inflexible, but can be made to see reason. AI is an eternal toddler. Only an adult can guide it to a place of equanimity.

Anyway, upon getting off the ferry, Sportage and I headed to Alma’s Family Restaurant, in a shopping strip mall, east of downtown. A nice young lady, who appeared to be the owner’s daughter, took my order, in business-like but kind fashion. The breakfast was a bit bland, but filling.

Today was a picture postcard Blue Sky day. The storm that folks on Cape Breton warned about, yesterday, has not reached here, yet. So, I headed east, towards Corner Brook which, as you see above, was my destination, after the inadequate sleep I got on the ride over. There was an added concern: Son had a bout of dehydration and is in hospital. I am prepared to cut this trip short, return to Cape Breton and then make my way to Texas, but so far, Aram and Yunhee are not in need of my presence. I will, nonetheless, be in touch with them each day, until he is recovered. While I was sitting still and dealing with that, a young woman, who had been at the gas pumps at the same time as me, was dealing with what sounded like a serious interpersonal issue. She pulled her car behind mine, and stayed close to me, until she felt better enough to drive off. No words were exchanged between us; she just needed someone who felt trustworthy, for about twenty minutes.

After driving around the Stephenville and Gallants areas (Gallant being my Nana’s family name, that of the ancestors who came from France to the Maritimes, by way of Quebec.), I pulled into Corner Brook.

Lake George, east of Gallants.
North Brook, Gallants

A couple of aborted attempts at finding lodging-“We are waiting for our cleaning crew”; no one in the office ended with my taking a room at the majestic Glynmill Inn.

I also took in a couple of Corner Brook’s finer natural areas: The Bay of Islands is bordered by a heartfelt Rock Art Wall, where people have left mementos of what is in their hearts.

Parents’ worst nightmare.
Bay of Islands

There is also a trail, from Glynmill to downtown. Passing by a small pond, it leads to Corner Brook’s unique City Hall.

So, having managed to reach an understanding with AI, I present you, once again, with photos taken on my i-Phone. Hope all is well on your end.

Eastbound and Back, Day 12, Surprise Ferry Ride

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 10, 2024, Aboard the Ferry to Port aux Basques- On a hunch, my host and I went to North Sydney, and checked with the Marine Atlantic office, as I had not received a confirmation of my ticket to Newfoundland, only the deduction from my bank account-back in November. We found that, voila, I was on the manifest-but that there was concern that the ferry scheduled for tomorrow is likely to be canceled, due to rough weather. So, I was given a slot on tonight’s ferry.

Fortunately, my car and belongings were only an hour away, at my host’s place in Eskasoni. After going on a couple of other errands, of mercy and sustenance, and visiting with another person who was experiencing family difficulty, I bid farewell to my hosts and headed to the ferry terminal. Two hours later, here I am on en route back to see some other friends made two years ago, and to see what new friends will appear.

A less pleasant surprise is that my i-Phone and this laptop are no longer connected. Maybe it’s a bad USB cord, so I will see if purchasing a new one, on Sunday or Monday, will let me resume sharing photos. Hmm, it is charging the phone, so maybe it’s not the USB cord that’s the problem. Will try again with the USB port itself, on Sunday or Monday. In the meantime, I will continue to take photos of Newfoundland, using the phone camera-and some day be able to share them on this blog site.

Conversations with my hosts today centered more on pastoral responsibilities. How do we help the sick, the troubled, the homeless, to get back on track. Ernie said that, in a severe situation, we must not let the perfect be a barrier to the good and necessary. If some foods are not organic, or not in keeping with someone’s strict diet-let those foods work, in a pinch. He gave the example of Wonder Bread, which he has yet to see become moldy. Since Ernie is an octogenarian, and I’m not, I give his testament a few grains of salt. Those of us who can afford, and do have access to, healthier options should share them when we can. It is often survival, however, that matters most.

In a few hours, we will dock, so now it’s time to nod off and be ready to drive up to Corner Brook, when the time comes.