a day in two parts.

reg and his daughter (granddaughter?) are throwing rocks into the ocean from their “deck”. there is a bright white light on the horizon.

two thoughts were running through my head this evening. one was on how completely in control the land is below the 49th. if i want to find out where someone lives i go to mapquest and voilà i have a map of their environs the streets nearby and driving directions.

mapquest – nounverb i know but if one can google one can mapquest. sullivan’s loop, or gruchy’s hill, or connor’s hill or noseworthy’s or strugnell’s marsh or meeting house road (pouch cove – nl a0a 3l0)and you’ll get a map with two roads on it meeting at more or less right angles with a star nearby. to mapquest pouch is the intersection of main road and the road to bauline.

this is frustrating when i am not here and am trying to find out where a piece of property is but there is something reassuring that everything isn’t under control. these are the paved roads in the hills there are cities’ worth of dirt roads and tracks.

this evening climbed connor’s hill to find the pond that is hidden – well to me - in the woods. at the top where before the tracks started two potential images for the carl english series. this was farming pouch as it is one spot where there is no view of the ocean. walked west choosing a path that quickly turned into something that would challenge an atv – and on cue one went by driven by a 10 year old. the track passed meadows at first they were open but further from the houses, they became fenced with the pines. an easy sort of disappointing walk – hoped it would be longer – to the pond. there were many options but the main track was pretty well formed.

the pond was isolated, quiet, there was water and trees, rising up to cape st. francis and west i imagined to bauline. the water was clean seeing the bottom was no problem as only when a wave distorted what was under it did one realise it was there.

so what is wrong with this picture? why is this scene not as worthy as the north atlantic to my back. why are we all piling on to see the ocean and no one is bothering about this place. not true considering all the beer, junk food and ciggie packets there were quite a few people here and i was to later find a house over looking the pond. are whales and icebergs all that important. afterall there is a moose out there someplace. birds were flying over head and it was definitely quieter than in town.
why isn’t this considered tranquil peaceful there is an ambient noise not like the sound of the ocean but still calming.

on the return walk decided to try an other path to see if i could get a new view of the pond. chose paths as i went – always checking to get my bearings. a couple of interesting dead ends one at a potato patch – the first of many that i would see – most stopped in the middle of fields. the tracks didn’t really end but became so overgrown that i didn’t want to risk walking them and getting lost with only two hours of light left.

more and more trails led to lots that people in town use to cut firewood. minor clear cutting in spots. wood was left in neat pyramidal piles where the trees were cut. someone even had his table in the woods with his name one it.

another atv goes by – man and boy – we exchange nods. further on i find the pond again this time it looks completely different weeds and lily pads near the shore and instead of being wide it had narrowed with a bend to the right the water more still but more or less the same amount of trash left behind.

a third attempt despite the mosquitoes - ah a reason to stay on the coast – too windy for them to land following more tracks until irrationally it is getting too dark to make snaps – everything revolves around photography.

a third and fourth atv pass – three kids who seem to recognise me.

take a different path back to town, wander a bit go down a steep trail that seems to be more a dried stream bank than a track and on the edge of civilisation run into a man who is shovelling rocks into pales.

-you a stray?
-no just came back from the pond.
-live around here?
-well staying around here.
didn’t recognise you so i thought you were a stray (lesson in newfoundland english – stray = from away.
i try to explain where i am using all the modifiers for martin and gabrielle’s rene sullivan’s, near russell langmead, beside sharon, next to ted sullivan…
-ted sullivan, i’m a sullivan also but distant related – picture made about now – sullivan’s loop was where they all lived was called langmead’s before that.
-the place is full of them also.
-two brothers who owned the land – it was here again that i wish that i had a tape recorder. talked a bit more, got my bearings i was coming out at the anglican cemetery and sturgnell’s marsh – a place that i was ignorant of as it was away from the sea.

heading back i sat and stared out at the ocean listening to the waves running up against the cliffs.

definite two part day. went into st. john’s because someone expressed interest in the work in the show. went to photograph the paintings and e-mail them out to saskatchewan.

on the way in made some more cynical images one of a new roped out subdivision along route 20, one of the irving gas bar of wilkenson’s convenience – i have get to et it the way i like – at route 20 and back road in flat rock. there was also the outdoor seating picnic area of the irving gas bar with a pizza hut express that overlooked stavenger drive and the walmart. have to return to do this one people were having lunch at the table and in their pick ups behind it.

ange invited me to lunch knowing how skint i was after regatta day – jim was on the cbc but somehow they missed me but later became ill.

i used the time in the city to look at the galleries i usually take time to see. eastern edge – a good and two horrible videos coupled with something that was trying to look like art.
st. michael’s print shop – hoping that the john hartman of pouch cove was still there.
leyton gallery to see what undrea paints spoke to the gallery director as she was trying to figure out when the folk festival in bannerman park begins this evening.
being slow i returned to make her snap – this time she was reading in the telegram about the actor from here that died after eating monkshood a poison so deadly that a child holding the plant can die from it.

samosas at auntie craes, then christina parker who was busy selling some tourist art to some one – overheard to patron (matrons?) of the arts saying that she bought something similar in hawai’i and another one in domenica where they used all 64 colours in the crayon box. do like the grant bolands and there were two good ones.

i was now wasting time as i was once again call upon to be an outport taxi. don maynard was coming in from toronto i was giving him a lift back to pouch.

wandered the area behind mile one stadium saw some livyer formalism gardens, fences and various properties complete with clothes line. there was also a photograph of signal hill completely overwhelmed by what was once the beginning of the trans canada.

while making some snaps in johns street, a bloke comes to another about the break ins in the neighbourhood recently. u.s paranoia overcomes me and i mention to him that i am making snaps of the houses here as it reminds me of the row houses in baltimore and the east coast.

-that’s fine take away you’re welcome (about now the shutter goes off) thanks. not to worry, climb the hill as i think that i see a closed convenience. walk along a street that i think will take me to martin’s meadow again want to see if it has changed. pass the man at number 17 monroe sitting on his steps. words spoken image made.

peeking in the open doors of houses along central and wickford to see if they had a view of the narrows.

wander down behind the cbc into duckworth street and a smoothie at the new stella’s – ask when they close – 6pm. race across the street to see if anything is in the r.c.a. gallery before getting the smoothie. the show is down return to get the smoothie. the clerk says jokingly sorry we are closed. for such sauciness a photograph is made.

at the airport i park by the terminal – remember when you could do that – don’t see a cop. go inside to ask can i stay in the passenger drop off
-no
-how long do i have?
-until someone tells you to move.

the states seem like they are a galaxy or some weird parallel universe away.

introduce myself as jim baird to maynard and off we go to pouch