It's early Monday morning here on the Viking Trail at the Genevieve Bay Inn, a converted school, just south of Bird Cove, Newfoundland. Last night the owner's 77 year old mother, Mary, left out a Continental breakfast for early risers. I'm so grateful. I've had a cup of tea, a bowl of oatmeal, a glass of juice and I'm about to make a cup of coffee in the Keurig. Life is good.
It's isolated up here. I'm looking out the window. The mouth of the Gulf of St. Lawrence lies beyond the road and a spit of trees. On the other side of the gulf is Labrador from which we returned last night. A few pickup trucks have roared by, surely fisherman or workers for the electric grid who've overslept and are late for work. It's in the upper 30's. I could see breath when I stepped outside. Our motorcycle visors are frosted over and the seats have a thin layer of icy dew. The first snow is a few weeks away. They say the ground will be white until May. Ouch.
For me the isolation, especially during my early mornings alone, has provided a quiet opportunity to reflect, mostly in appreciation. Though still unsettled about my recent early retirement, I'm grateful for my health, my wherewithal to explore, my loyal friends and especially my family, which has grown with the addition of two wonderful son-in-laws in the past 14 months. My daughters are blessed to have found parters that they respect, enjoy and deeply love. What more could a father want?
I've taken some crazy cycling trips over the last few years and have one long one planned for next year. Margot and the kids prefer that I don't do these things but they've been supportive, knowing the joy it brings me. I'm incredibly appreciative of that too. Thank you, Fam.
It's the third day of fall back home but up here, winter is imminent. The whales are migrating south, seasonal businesses are closing up, ATVs and SkiDoo's are coming off the trailers, firewood is being loaded into garages and the competitive dart leagues are gearing up.
Last night we arrived at the Genevieve around 6:30. We are the only guests for the night. The desk clerk, Elizabeth, called the chef (who turned out to be Mary) to tell her to come in and cook for us. I told her that it was unnecessary, that we could make due until breakfast. Elizabeth was insistent so I backed off.
After checking in and taking a quick shower, we went to the bar for a beer and to wait for Mary. Eric took a seat at the bar and chatted with Elizabeth, who also tended bar. I took a seat over by one of the dozen dart boards where two women's teams were having a make-up match (last Wednesday's contest had been postponed because the "Nan" of one of them had died).
I asked whether they minded an audience. One of them with a wry smile replied, "No, as long as you're willing to sing for us". The others laughed heartedly. I did too and sheepishly answered with a weak line about how that would be more of a comedy show than a concert. They politely chuckled and went back to their business.
Awhile later, Lori, the one who suggested I sing, came over and asked how Labrador was and more specifically, about the boat ride. I was puzzled but then assumed she knew that anyone passing through at that time had to have come from the ferry. As her questions continued it became clear that no, we must have met somewhere along the way. Trying not to put my foot in my mouth I faked it, pretending that I remembered her. I did pretty well. It turns out that she works for the ferry terminal (she had been in her heavy rain gear that day). We had talked to her for a couple of minutes and she had warned us about the heavy seas going over to Labrador. When I introduced Eric to Lori a little while later I could see that he didn't remember her either. I think I did a better job of faking it than he did.
I really enjoyed watching the women play darts and I occasionally joined in some of their banter. The Nufie accents were difficult to understand, especially after they'd had a few drinks. There were ten of them ranging in age from about 25 to 70. There was even a mother/daughter duo.
Another of the women, Daltsey, came up to me and said I bet you've never heard talk like that before. I said honestly that they spoke so fast and with such strong accents that I didn't understand a word of it. I asked whether she and the others would repeat it on video after match. She happily agreed to.
When the match ended, she, Lori and another, Matilda, called me over. The other women quickly left. Daltsey said, lets get started. So I pulled out my iPhone and began taping. I still didn't understand what Daltsey was saying so while the others laughed, she slowed herself down and walked me through it. Oh my goodness. I've been in lots locker rooms over the years but I've never heard anyone talk like that. I can only imagine my facial expression when she was translating. I'll have to burn the videotape. Eric and I were back to the room by 10 and lights were out by 10:30.
The night before night in Labrador, after waiting out the storm, in the hotel dining room, over fried cod tongues, over-cooked steak and a couple of local lager, we acted like adolescent american boys, talking inanely. Best I could tell no one could here us. They must have been curious though. A few times we had deep, long belly laughs. It was fun. Laughter, salve for the sole.
Eric's snoring continues to be a problem. If it was rhythmic it wouldn't be an issue but his pants and snorts are labored, like a truck downshifting on a steep incline. I bark at him multiple times each night but he keeps the pillow over his head and can't hear me. Last night I whipped a pillow at him. That didn't work either. What to do?
And another thing. Oddly, the other night for the first time, Eric put the toilet cover down before going to bed. You can imagine my middle of the night reaction in the dark when after a few moments I digested the decidedly different sound. Not good. Enough said.
Other than that, the cohabitation has been smooth. It can be challenging sharing a small space with someone, especially with the amount of gear we have and our vastly different sleeping habits. But we make it work.
Yesterday, after a relaxing breakfast, we drove to the ferry terminal in Blanc-Sablon to purchased tickets for the afternoon boat back to Newfoundland. Saturday's ferries had been canceled so yesterday's we're filling up fast. By buying the tickets early we were insured getting back to Newfoundland last night. We were anxious to do this because today we want to get up to the first know Viking settlement in North America. It's north of St. Anthony at the very tip of Newfoundland's Northern Peninsula. It should be pretty cool.
The ferry was easy; cold, but calm and fast.
And a bonus; the Patriots game was playing on the port side TV. We were able to watch the entire second half, including the unbelievable finish. It made my day. I'm not sure the Pats deserved the win but I'll take it.
Happy Monday to all.
Sent from George's iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment