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.