July 2, 2022, Saugus- Tom and Jamie were waiting patiently, and I got over to breakfast by 7. We continued our conversation from last night, for a while, then I got organized and back on the road. The two stops left, before Saugus, were Stonewall Kitchen, where I picked up some gift items for family and friends on the return trip and Green Acre Baha’i School, where prayers for safety and assistance were offered, in a quiet atmosphere-as I was the only person there, until a small group of mothers and children came back from what appeared to have been an outing.
Mom was very happy that I came by her place first. The stuff in the car could wait. I already have the motel booked for 3 nights. She is doing well and has a very positive attitude towards life. I think it rubbed off on me. We talked for about about ninety minutes, while occasionally looking at her muted TV screen, with looping news repeating itself over and over, as looping news usually does. It was mostly complaints about this year’s July 4 weekend, so neither of us needed to hear it.
Even if the weekend ends up being fairly quiet, I will have done the right thing by being here.
July 1, 2022, Boothbay Harbor- A “just-in-case” phone call to a cousin and his wife, in this salubrious bay view town resulted in a dinner and accommodations invitation, which came at just the right time. I had enjoyed the drive down the Maine coast from Jonesboro, and had deposited my rent check at a B of A branch. The search for my cousin’s gravesite, in Augusta, was futile, though, and a brief visit to his parent’s tombstones at the same cemetery at least gave me a sense of purpose and a chance to regain focus.
I chose to mostly bypass the numerous idyllic scenes that dot this magnificent state’s coast. Despite how it may appear to some, this is not a journey that is focused on scenery. It is more one focused on spirit. There are family connections, especially in and around my hometown-though holiday plans will no doubt affect how many people I actually see. So, visiting cousin Tom and his wife, Jamie, will likely prove more the exception than the rule.
Around lunchtime, I found a delightful spot, Warren’s Waterfront, overlooking the Penobscot River, and Fort Knox-the Maine version, where no gold is known to have been kept. Like its Kentucky namesake, though, it is named for General Henry Knox, who was the first Secretary of War, and who lived in nearby Thomaston, after his public service was over. It was a key post during the War of 1812.
The Penobscot River, with Fort Knox in the background, Bucksport, MEA closer view of Fort Knox, Bucksport, ME
After a light lunch at Warren’s, I took a stroll on Bucksport’s Riverwalk, which features a series of Alphabet Exercise cues.
Bucksport Riverwalk
After this, I headed directly to Bank of America, some ninety miles south, via backroads. Doubling back to Augusta’s Blue Star Cemetery was, at first, a bit nerve-wracking, as Google Maps has the place close to downtown (It is not) and involving the city’s busiest roundabout. (Yes, but not in the direction indicated.) It took a trip to Augusta City Hall to get things straight. A helpful pair of workers gave me the right directions and before long, I paid my respects to Aunt and Uncle-and by extension, to their son.
The grilled salmon and fixings, served by Tom and Jamie, were followed by a discussion of an interesting extended family member, and reminiscences about our branches of the family. Now, as with all days-serene and hectic alike, it is time to enjoy the comfort of the Guesthouse.
June 30, 2022, Jonesboro, Maine- The breakfast serving room was stifling, at the Comfort Inn, Amherst, NS, and I had some concern for the well-being of the attendant. She was quite vocal about the heat-mainly from the ovens in her immediate food preparation space. I thought it would be a good idea for the management to consider better ventilation. A good worker, to paraphrase the old United Black College Fund ad, is terrible to waste. We patrons at least were to take our food to our rooms. COVID protocols are still in place, in many establishments.
Two very different reactions to my presence in Amherst were to present themselves, as errands were discharged. When I went to the laundromat, the attendant was friendly at first, but once I told her where I was from, the smile faded and I was asked what I was doing in Amherst. At least I was left alone to complete my washing and drying. The people at the car wash were a lot nicer, and gladly exchanged four quarters for a dollar coin, so the wash could proceed.
My business in the Chignecto area complete, I drove over to Fundy National Park, in New Brunswick, and caught a few scenes of that home of high tides.
Mathews Head, Fundy National Park, NBView of Bay of Fundy, near Point Wolfe, Fundy National Park
Any thoughts I might have had of further exploring Fundy were brought to a close by the approaching rain. It got quite heavy, at times, as I drove west, on TransCanada Highway 2. In and around Saint John, the province’s largest city, the rain was the heaviest. Being rush hour made things go that much slower-and of course, there was road construction, with lane closures. Nonetheless, the people along the Loyalist Trail (Saint John was a haven for those loyal to the Crown, during the American Revolution.) have the rush hour thing down to a fine art, with taking turns entering the open lane de rigeur.
A relatively short time, maybe forty minutes, later, I was at the border crossing, where the inspector briefly peered into my back seat, glanced at my passport and said “Welcome home”. If only we lived in a world where everyone could have that kind of a border greeting, each time. The invisible frontier, however, attracts its share of grifters and smugglers-so sometimes, the rest of us need to exercise forbearance.
Beyond Calais, Maine, I took note of these scenes along the St. Croix River.
Lighthouse along St. Croix River, south of Calais, MESt. Croix River, between Maine and New Brunswick
A few miles further south, the St. Croix Island International Peace Monument commemorates the first, ill-fated French expedition, led by Pierre Dugua, an explorer, soldier and fur trapper. The group landed on St. Croix Island in the Fall of 1604, with the intention of claiming the area for France. A harsh winter ensued, and despite the assistance of the Passamaquoddy people, who were native to the area, the party lost about half of its members. In the spring of 1605, Dugua and his group departed the area, for another point on the Canadian mainland. Canada and the United States jointly maintain this historical site.
Depiction of a member of the St. Croix Island exploration party of 1604-5.St Croix Island International Peace Monument, Calais, MEView of St, Croix River, from Peace MonumentDepiction of a Passamaquoddy woman, St. Croix International Peace Monument
The presence of this monument underscores the value of seeing that “The Earth is but one country and Mankind its citizens”- Baha’u’llah.
I continued on to the small town of Perry. There, a restaurant called New Friendly featured a cheerful, talkative waitress, who seemed to connect with everyone, a shy teenaged girl, who was looking around for something productive she might do and a visibly flustered, rather crochety woman, who seemed to be the owner. I was served by the waitress, and enjoyed a nice meal of fried clams-with full bellies, which I love, being a son of New England. I was the last one in the door, and so was about the last one to pay. The owner took my payment, seemingly glad to see me leave.
The end of the line, for tonight, is Blueberry Patch Motel and Cabins. I am in a tiny cabin, recommended to me by the night clerk, who said I had just made it through the door, before she turned out the Welcome sign. Yes, I got the last cabin-with one motel room going unclaimed. Rural Mainers do things a bit differently, and the invisible frontier, between being hard at work and being tired enough to stop for the night, takes on a different hue up here.
June 29, 2022, Amherst, NS- I found an engaging restaurateur, who was having a birthday, at Bras d’Or View Restaurant, about eight miles west of Highlands Motel. It was worth the drive, as the place reminds me nicely of my favourite spots back in Prescott. The locals in Bras d’Or Village love Vanessa and she returns the sentiment. Breakfast was a heartfelt meal.
Finally connecting with my Miqmak friend, on the south side of the Lake, I headed first to Iona, a small lake port, and got a sense of village life near the Reserve of Eskasoni.
St. Columba’s Catholic Church, Iona, NSRail bridge, Iona, NSBras d’Or Lake, at Iona, NS
I then headed over to Eskasoni, and inquired at a couple of stores, as to the residence of a Miqmak elder, whose name had been given me by a mutual friend. A young man who overheard the conversation offered to take me to them elder’s home. When the watchdog barked at the young man, I thanked him and he left. The elder came out, asked who I was and sized me up. When I stated my business, he invited me inside and we talked at length, over pie a la mode and tea, about Baha’i matters and life on the Reserve. After some time had passed, he excused himself, to go take care of a work-related matter. His daughter came and dropped off a box of items and two other Baha’is came in and out, while the elder’s wife sat and conversed with us, while doing her own crafts project. In time, my friend A. P. came in and the conversation continued for another two hours or so. The other Baha’is left and A.P. offered to show me Eskasoni’s Baha’i Centre, a few miles away. We went over there and he told me some particulars of how the Centre came to be and how it is being renovated now.
A. P. and me, Eskasoni, NSEskasoni Baha’i Centre, NS
After we thanked our hostess, A.P. and I left, with him guiding me back towards the Canso Causeway, using the backroads. It was a very rewarding day for me, listening to the sometimes complicated views of the Mikmaq and to their Creation stories. As in the United States, and elsewhere in the world where First Nations people and settlers have variously clashed and made efforts at getting along. Nova Scotia has seen a lot of injury and misunderstanding.
Much of this has come from failure to listen, especially on the part of those who do not maintain silence long enough to process the mood of the situation or to observe body language. Promotion of an agenda, above all else, has only built unnecessary walls. Then, there is the manipulation, the abuse of children, adolescents and women, by those who should be trustworthy. The Miqmak, like the Dineh, Hopi, Inde (Apache), Cree, Salish, Inuit and others-even the Beothuk, who are viewed as “extinct”, have earned the right to Truth and Reconciliation-in a real way, not just monetarily, but to be seen as full partners in any community that is theirs by right.
I ended this day by encouraging a young lady who was a new server at Big Stop Restaurant, Aulds Cove, just on the mainland side of Canso Causeway. The meal hit the spot and she did everything right. It was no detriment that she was using cue cards. That shows initiative and the desire to do a job well. Finding a place for the night, I noted that Amherst has a laundromat and car wash, near Comfort Inn, so it’s here that I settled in.
Tomorrow, I will cross southern New Brunswick and return to the United States, after my longest stay outside the country since 2014.
The return ferry out of Channel-Port aux Basques was a much more elaborate arrangement than that which I took from North Sydney, five days ago. It is all part of the run-up to the Canada Day weekend, which is also the Independence Day weekend. Our two great nations have long collaborated on celebration of their respective nationhood, so it all makes sense. I lined up my vehicle, with at least 200 others, two hours before loading. A breakfast cafeteria was available, in the Ferry Terminal, so I got coffee and a bagel with cheddar cheese. Sitting back in the Saturn, devotions and random thoughts whiled away the remaining ninety minutes.
Once we were underway, and the above scene passed by, I was pleasantly occupied, by turns, with observing the passing ocean, reading a book I had purchased while at the Baha’i House of Worship, having lunch and napping. Then, Nova Scotia came back into view and before long, I was ensconced in Highland Motel- a spare, but adequate, establishment that is clean and comfortable, at least. I launched into writing about my last day or so in Newfoundland, only to have the laptop quit on me. It turns out that the electrical wall outlet in my room has no power. The desk clerk, already surly from dealing with other guests who were unnecessarily argumentative (IMHO) and rather rude to him, just shrugged his shoulders. I am now getting ready to go to bed ( FYI: This post has been completed, four days later).
Newfoundland and Nova Scotia, and for that matter-New Brunswick, Maine and states clear down to Alabama, are part of the geological uplift known to us as the Appalachians. The same geological features can be found in eastern Quebec, Labrador, Prince Edward Island, southern Greenland, Iceland, the British Isles, Norway and all along the western seaboard of Europe, into Morocco. An International Appalachian Trail exists, in one form or another, in many of these regions. Indeed, an Eastern Continental Recreational Trail is also in place, from Key West to St. John’s. I have whimsically thought, at times, of taking on the challenge of that long walk-but there is, realistically, much more for me to do than to shuck it all and walk for 2-3 years.
Nonetheless, I have found many elements of Heaven on Earth, in so many places visited, these past few decades, both in terms of scenery and of humanity. Newfoundland and Cape Breton make two more. I will be back to both, in 2-3 years, for more focused, selective visits, knowing that my life, far from being more relaxed and sanguine, is just getting busier-though in a happy and rewarding way. I feel good and have more energy now, than even two or three years ago.
Tomorrow, hopefully, will find me visiting some First Nations friends, along the shore of Bras d’Or Lake.
June 27, 2022, Channel- Port aux Basques, NL- I was warmly welcomed this morning, into the main house of Abbie’s Garden, and directed to sit in a place by myself at a well-set table. The arrangement, of each party being seated separately, apparently is a Newfoundland tradition, derived from the British Isles. Having not been anywhere in that archipelago, other than London, this is new to me. It was very pleasant, though, as the host took egg orders, poured beverages and proudly presented a superbly-plated hot breakfast of eggs, crisp bacon, pancakes and fresh biscuits. Condiments were in serving vessels, not in their store containers. Juice (orange, in my case) was the last item presented. My maternal grandmother would be very pleased.
Prior to breakfast, I went around the garden and over to the chicken coop, where the flock, still inside the predator-proof coop, came to the netting and greeted me. All the little beaks were at the wire netting, clucking or peeping away.
Here are some scenes of Abbie’s Garden. First, here is The Loft, where I spent the night.
The Loft, with Main House in the background., Abbie’s Garden, Grand Bank, NL
Garden, outside The LoftCentral Garden, between The Loft and Main HouseGarden Path, in the firsSouth GardenBoo, birds!The brood says Hello!The path not taken
Upon bidding a fond farewell to the family at Abbie’s, I resolved to check out some spots along the road in the Burin Peninsula. Here are a few of these.
Grand Beach, east of Grand Bank townGrand Beach, looking northMortier Bay, looking southPlacentia Bay, at Swift Current, NLPlacentia Bay, at Swift Current, NLThe sign says it all
About an hour after leaving the Burin, I came upon Joey’s Lookout, named after Joseph R. Smallwood, the first Provincial Premier of Newfoundland and Labrador. The place overlooks his home town of Gambo.
Gambo, NL from Joey’s Lookout, just west of GanderFreshwater Bay, at Gambo, NL
As dinner hour approached, I was at a park overlooking the Humber River, just outside Deer Lake. A few other picnickers were at the lone table, so I took a bench and watched a lone fly fisherman, in the river, with his hip waders on.
Humber River, at Deer Lake, NLHumber River, at Deer Lake, NL
As I got closer to this port city, the grandeur of the Long Range Mountains made itself known again.
Long Range Mountains, southward from Codroy Valley, NL
Once settled in my room, at Hotel Port aux Basques, the chatter and antics of a group of teens caught my attention. They were likely enjoying the first days of summer, as school just let out in Newfoundland, last Friday. This is part of the park where they were hanging out. No, I did not photograph the group!
Royal Canadian Legion Memorial Park, Channel-Port aux Basques, NL
The long drive was not so bad. Tomorrow, I bid farewell to this consummately civilized people and their salubrious island.
Hatcher House, Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador
The scenes went from jaw-dropping to heart-warming, as the day was spent traversing a more sublimely lovely part of this island. After a packaged breakfast, indicative of the ongoing seriousness with which the Canadian government still takes the pandemic-with considerable merit, I bid farewell to Memorial University, and went-across the street, to Pippy Park. This large and ecologically rich urban park was established by the Province of Newfoundland and Labrador, in 1966, and named for one of its prime boosters: Chesley A. Pippy, a St. John’s businessman and philanthropist. I focused on the area of the park around Long Pond. Here are some scenes.
View of Memorial University, from Pippy Park, St. John’s, NL
Side garden, near Fluvarium, Pippy Park, St, John’sA small feeder of Rennie’s River, Pippy ParkForest cover, Long Pond Loop, Pippy ParkLong Pond, Pippy Park-with Memorial University in backgroundCommunity Garden, Elaine Dobbin Centre for Autism, St. John’sSound Therapy Garden, Elaine Dobbin Centre for Autism, St. John’s
Seeing a family go to this area and examine the plants, with the children playing some of these instruments, I naturally went there, after they had left and was delighted to see what is being done, in the name of autism research. The autistic children with whom I have worked love tending gardens and are comforted by soft vibrational sounds, as am I.
Long Pond, from South Shore, Pippy Park
Returning to the parking lot, via the South Shore of Long Pond Loop, I picked up a snack of potato wedges, from an Irish gentleman, who proudly told me of his progress in curbing his smoking habit. Congratulating him and commiserating, just a bit. with his plaint that the day was too hot (I told him I was from Arizona, which gave him pause in bemoaning the 70-degree heat), I said his taters were mighty tasty.
I next made a brief drive over to the Fort Amherst area, near the south bank of St. John’s Harbour. From here, are views of Cabot Tower, on Signal Hill and of the confluence of the Harbour with the Atlantic Ocean.
View of Signal Hill, from the base of Fort Amherst, St. John’sEntry to St. John’s Harbour
Of course, more time is warranted in St. John’s. I sense there will be an Avalon and Burin-centric visit back to the island, in two or three years, along with everything else. For today, though, it was time to head over to the Burin Peninsula, three hours away and settle in for the night at Abbie’s Garden Bed and Breakfast.
I arrived here around 5:45, was warmly greeted by Abbie’s widower, his second wife and his daughter, who is the proprietress of her mother’s Garden. My room, in a lovely house called The Loft, has all the comforts of home, including a thick Newfoundland comforter. The gardens, which I will photograph tomorrow morning, are indeed Abbie’s legacy. The houses and the trails are the work of her husband, Bruce. Their daughter has maintained and built on this legacy.
I enjoyed a fine meal in town, at Copper Kettle. A finer lobster and bacon wrap has never been had by man. This, after being followed by a utility worker, who the waitress at Copper Kettle says is a self-appointed pair of eyes for the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary, until I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. I guess they don’t see too many vehicles with Arizona plates around here. For my part, I saw a vehicle with St. Pierre and Miquelon plates, which makes sense, as the French territory is a short set of nautical miles off the Burin. Marystown, the Burin’s commercial hub, is “town” for the St. Pierrois, and their “mainland” neighbours.
After a lovely time relaxing around Bruce’s firepit, and enjoying some of his homemade rhubarb pie, it is time to go up and crawl under that comforter. Thanks, Abbie, for all you did.
June 25, 2022, St. John’s- Some days, like today, present themselves with two themes. At L’Anse aux Meadows, to which I was directed to go, way back nine years ago-and again in January of this year, the focus was on connecting with the spirits of the past-both First Nations and Scandinavian. As I headed towards this oldest European city in North America, predating St. Augustine, FL by four decades, my focus was knowingly on its modern aspects-especially Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador, where I am spending the night.
In between the northwestern and southeastern areas of this vast island, there is much of both natural and human accomplishment. The most striking example of the former are Newfoundland’s two National Parks: Gros Morne and Terra Nova. The first was easy to stop and appreciate. There are several areas visible from the TransCanada Highway. Terra Nova, on the other hand, has no safe turn-offs from which to photograph, along the highway. It was also very foggy and rainy as I passed the lovely park. I’m getting ahead of the story though.
Here are a few scenes from Gros Morne and two other places along the Viking Trail, between L’Anse aux Meadows and Deer Lake. First is River of Ponds, a mecca for fly fishermen.
River of Ponds, NLRiver of Ponds, in full rapids mode
Next, came the ocean, at Parsons Pond.
Headland at Parsons Pond, NLGros Morne, visible from Parsons Pond, NLGros Morne, and a lonely cabin, at Black Duck Pond, NLRocky Harbour, NL from the East Arm of Bonne BayEast Arm of Bonne BayGros Morne, from East Arm of Bonne BayWest Arm of Bonne Bay
The beauty of the north is indeed rather stark, with lots of rainy days, foggy nights and as someone commented, low light-even in summer. I am fortunate to have been raised far enough north that these things are not so much a factor in my appreciation of this sort of beauty. Then again, I also enjoy lower latitudes.
What I did not enjoy so much was the rain, fog and wind while driving between Gander and St. John’s. I saved time and money by getting a handheld sandwich from a convenience store in Springdale, a bit west of Gander. That was a good thing, because the inclement weather started right around the aviation center. Some may remember that Gander was important to connecting with the rest of the world, during 9/11/2001. It is still a bustling-and growing community.
St. John’s has welcomed me, even at this late hour (midnight), and I am settling in to a university dorm room, single occupancy. Thank you, Memorial University, for this Summer Accommodations Program.
L’Anse aux Meadows Along the northern tip of Newfoundland, there once lived at least three nations of people, who were lumped together by the Viking fishermen, upon their landing at Quirpon Island and the nearby mainland, and called Skraeling, after the term they used to describe the Inuit of Greenland. The term variously means “wearer of animal pelts”, “wearer of dried skins”, “barbarians” or even “weaklings”.
At first, the Vikings stayed on Quirpon and at the sight now known as L’Anse aux Meadows ,a corruption of the French L’Anse aux Medee, which means “Medea’s Cove”, after a ship Medea, of the French commercial fishing fleet that docked in what is now Gumper’s Bay, in the 16th and 17th Centuries. The Vikings first settled here in 990 A.D. and went back to Greenland in 1050. so their artifacts being here at all are an extra treasure. Whether they also went south to Cape Cod is still up for debate.
Quirpon Headland, near L’Anse aux Meadows, NLNorwegian archaeologists who found remnants of Viking settlement at L’Anse aux MeadowsMost likely landing site, at L’Anse aux Meadows
The above scene shows the boggy area that greeted the Vikings. They had to choose their steps very carefully. Visitors today have nice boardwalks on which to tread.
Boardwalk to Viking exhibits
My first walk was on Harry Youden’s Trail. He was a fervent supporter of unearthing Viking relics in this area, which was one of his favourite places to walk and meditate.
Outcropping at Harry Youden’s Cove, L’Anse aux MeadowsLichens are always hard at work in the tundraFull view of the cove“Meeting of Two Worlds”, by Luben Boykov and Richard Brixel
The above sculpture was commissioned by UNESCO, when L’Anse aux Meadows was designated a World Heritage Site.
Below, one of several mementos left by Harry, creating both a personal and “Fae” ambiance.
Small carving with child’s image, left by Harry Youden, L’Anse aux MeadowsFairies need a comfortable abode, so Harry carved one.Harry’s trail went on a bit longer, but I turned back, to see the Viking siteThis one speaks for itself, L’Anse aux MeadowsThere is plenty of fresh water at L’Anse aux MeadowsA work house, in the Viking style, L’Anse aux Meadows.
Note the ventilation ducts. The Norse used them, and here’s why:
Primitive hearth, in work houseTapestry, by a docent at L’Anse aux Meadows
One of the few women in the settlement group was a sailor’s wife, who was also a sale maker. As she was not sewing sails all the time, she busied herself with creative projects, like this above.
I spoke for several minutes with the docent who portrayed this busy woman, as well as with the woodworking and cook docents. All of them emphasized the constant work that needed doing, twelve hours a day, seven days a week, in this novel environment. All of the settlers longed, constantly, for “home”-Greenland.
NEXT POST: The road to Deer Lake (with Gros Morne National Park along the way)
June 24, 2022, St. Lunaire-Griquet, NL- After privately observing Baha’i Feast last night, in what may have been the first time that’s happened in Doyles, I noted a more gregarious Mr. Devine offering me his thanks for the visit and a suggestion of going over to Cape Anguille, the westernmost part of Newfoundland. This, I did, even waiting for later to have a brunch of sorts.
There are two points of interest, in particular, at the juncture of the Grand Codroy with the Atlantic. Cape Anguille (pronounced An-GWILL) Lighthouse is an active station, and thus off-limits to entry by visitors. It may be freely photographed from the exterior, though.
Cape Anguille Lighthouse
I followed Mr. Devine’s recommended route, going around clockwise, to Searston Beach, where the Grand Codroy actually meets the Atlantic. It has a one-lane bridge, with a wooden base and steel siding/underpinning.
Bridge at Searston Beach, Codroy Valley, NLView of the Atlantic Ocean, Searston Beach, Codroy Valley, NL
Once back on the Trans-Canada Highway, I noted that the quality of the road varied, as it does in many places where the climate can be harsh. Newfoundland, like much of the Northeast, is said to have two seasons, “July and Winter”. This day, however, the area of the Long Range Mountains is quite pleasant, and the rest of the island promises to be so, for the next few days.
Reaching western Newfoundland’s commercial hub of Corner Brook, I found a bustling, surprisingly frenetic traffic scene-and had to be as “on guard” as in any good-sized community, these days. I stopped for lunch at a Jungle Jim’s, which is Newfoundland’s chain of gourmet burger places. There, I learned of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision on Roe vs. Wade, about which I will keep my own counsel-though the issue of how to approach pregnancy, and any complications therefrom, should be strictly a matter between a woman, her mate (if one is involved) and a competent medical professional. The meal itself was of modest portion and quite good, as one would expect of a successful sit-down chain.
I continued on, towards L’Anse aux Meadows, the site of a Viking settlement of the 13th Century, A.D.-about which more in the next post. Photos of astonishing Gros Morne National Park will also wait until then. It took all I had, in terms of time, to get to my motel, St. Brendan’s, in this little village just shy of the monument. I took in the village’s lovely harbour, after enjoying a nice dinner at The Daily Catch, where I made fast friends of the owner and one of the docents at L’Anse.
Gumpers Cove, behind The Daily Catch Restaurant, St. Lunaire-Griquet, NLQuirpon Island, from the dock at The Daily Catch, St. Lunaire-Griquet, NL
With that, I get ready to lay down and sleep, at the colourful and welcoming St. Brendan’s Motel. As there were too many other guests out and about, when I was there, I leave you with their stock photo.
St. Brendan’s Motel, St. Lunaire-Griquet, Newfoundland. (Courtesy of St. Brendan’s Motel.)
A Sagittarian Seeker 