RFD - Jim’s shorthand for rain, fog, drizzle - seemed to be the prevailing weather pattern. Since we had arrived there hadn’t been a sunny day and at some time each day a bit of moisture falling. To-day the day of the boat ride it was raining.
The plan was rain and the boat ride was off it would be no fun tooling around Bonne Bay on the Sarah Elizabeth with an open deck. None of the Brakes had got in touch as even though the trip was to be for one or two George had said that up to four or five could come along, so we were guessing that the weather would keep them back in Trout River.
The rain turned to drizzle and the drizzle slowed so we walked down to the Seabreeze to see if George was willing. Caught him coming from the restaurant and made a date to meet back within 30 minutes.
We almost didn’t make it as I got three calls from the Discovery Centre. Two were voice mails from two different people saying the same thing – wondering about when I could give a talk – it had been arranged already. The third was in person but nether the less asked the same questions yet again. Said that I was racing out the door to go on a boat ride but still the person talked unhurriedly, and in more detail than was needed and seemed not to hear when I mentioned that most of what she was saying had been agreed upon.
Ran down to the Sarah Elizabeth with George waiting, went aboard as George cast off and climbed down the dock at the Seabreeze as if one of his legs weren’t artificial.
Pulling away he puts on his sailing cap and give us a tour. We head out to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, he telling us about parts of the coast line, he points out Clyde Rose’s place, what happened at certain coves and rock formations that appeared to be rabbits, Snoopy and Woodstock and the like. We saw some, some we thought were a product of an over active imagination that had plenty of time by itself on the water.
The sky had cleared.
The nice place to be if we didn’t know George would have been on the open deck behind the cabin the boat was so close to the water if felt as it were in the bay.
Once again it was duelling cameras, this time I took Ubirajara out – even though I promised myself that I wouldn’t use them over here as it would become too easy and it would be harder to use the Deardorff. I wanted a snap of George though. Kendra brought out the Pentax 67 for only the second time. The outing was mainly digital and more chatting with George that actually looking at the scenery – or rather looking at the scenery through the windows in the cabin while talking to George.
It is hard to explain and even harder to differentiate the difference from a chat here versus a chat back in the world. It seems that here it comes from genuine curiosity rather than control. Small talk is rarer, one is more direct, there is a comparison but not necessarily to establish a pecking order. I cannot say that guards are let down more readily as there are no guards up. Talk simply happens.
Traded histories, jokes, he made instant coffee for us.
The tour was great. Although it seems impossible it made the life here even more pleasant as George slowed the pace but not the
intensity even more. It also showed both the history small “h” of Bonne Bay and at the same time the tenuousness human habitation of the place –the abandoned settlements, the cleared areas where no one lives any more.
Returning to the dock it began to drizzle.
Back to the house to regroup and so that I could do some work for Parks Canada. While some of the images done the first day were quite nice the Hobo didn’t frame exactly the way I wanted when it came to more or less precise compositions. I would retrace my steps with the Deardorff seeking out specific pictures to be remade.
Kendra stayed behind enthralled with the dial up connexion.
Known enough in town especially walking in that direction around town circle, that people don’t really look up, but with the camera and dark cloth I became some sick super hero – Photo man.
If someone passing seemed curious I would give them a look under the darkcloth. Of course heard later about my escapades at the Seabreeze. It was mainly an outing of rephotographing but did find a basketball hoop that Kendra had found the day before. Spent time photographing a new picnic area and what seemed to be a jellyfish graveyard, still gelatinous but washed up on the shore.
Headed back toward the circle hoping to get some of the buildings downtown, but couldn’t find the Newfoundland formalism that I was looking for. Will still work around Stan’s and the Butt’s shop, Tried a couple of piers but the best photograph of the day seems to be the wood for sale in a wheelbarrow. Amanda – Elaine’s daughter - caught me photographing the smoker’s chairs outside of Pete’s.
Stopped to photograph the war memorial when a person came up to ask, was almost in North American mode but not quite. It was Fred who runs the Legion here and when I told him I liked the way it fit in he gave me a history of the monument what they had done to it and to stop in some time.
George passed and said that sometimes people get nervous seeing a man with a cape around here, I said that I would simply say that I knew him and that would explain everything. He drove off.
Passed by the Seabreeze to tell George that no when people see a man with a cape here they thing “another bloody tourist”.
A screaming match with Amy Brake and her mother in the street so when I walked into Pete’s the clerk says “so you know Amy do you?
They were off to the legion hall for dinner.
Dinner at the picnic table was interrupted by a phone call it was Patsy from Trout River. She was to go on the boat ride yesterday but didn’t make it. Now she was on the phone with someone who didn’t know how to be on the phone, long silences between periods of abbreviated small talk. When it became too painful for me to be on the phone, I said “We’ll see you at the Seabreeze this evening.” She didn’t have a car and Francis wasn’t coming over. “Want us to pick you up?” I regretted as soon as it left my mouth, this meant a ride over to Trout River at 10pm then when the evening was finished a drive back.
I know that it seems that we are working on what once was said of my evil twin in St. John’s that were are alcoholics in training. It is not he case after developing film there is a thirty minute wash which translates into two Black Horses. It is also the way to catch up on the gossip. I usually head down at 10:30PM. I am not a night owl. It seems around here though things only start at midnight.
Picked her up. Asked after Francis, She didn’t know what he was into that night. The car struggled up the hill trough the Tablelands and careened down the Woody Point side.
Dropped Kendra and Patsy off and parked by the house, as Kendra had forgot her camera. When I had arrive the entire Brake clan was there with the usual alignments the locals drinking Coor’s light, the CFAs drinking the Black Horse, Patsy having Tia Maria and milk. The usual frivolity when Francis arrives great I think I won’t have to go back to Trout River and now can leave when we want. Which we do just after Amy has to go to work. Offer to drive her back but no it is alright she will go with Francis.
Say that we’ll see them to-morrow at the Rusty Jigger over in Trout River. While trying to think of reasons for not having to head over.
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