Like the beer at the Duke – the Smithwicks tasted so good after countless Labatts. Like the people at the Seabreeze better – I’ll even put up with half deaf Trout River bartenders. No one is using the pool table at the Duke. The usual crowd is sitting at the bar I – since Jim isn’t there am reclaiming my corner as Clarke’s Beach.
It is 7:00 seven hours after I have left Bonne Bay. Seven hours from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the North Atlantic. From looking out to Québec to thinking of Iceland. I have become a townie again. Was planning to make the drive to the Avalon a nice slow reasoned affair seeing all the places along the way that peaked my interest. It was going to be an anatomical trip – all the arms. Jackson’s, Robert’s etc. heading out to Buchans before speeding past Dildo – been there done that.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want that time alone, I just wanted to be someplace. So except for three stops Birchy Narrows to photograph a strange caravan park, in Badger to photograph a giant coffee cup, and to photograph the WELCOME TO GREEN BAY SIGN – to balance the Newfoundland Pennsylvania. I wanted to be someplace familiar. I wanted to pretend that I was heading to St. John’s for a break and race back to Woody Point.
It took more time that I had expected to pack the machine. I had something to drop of at Dorothy’s house, a few cards for the post office and a bad panoramic from the deck of the Granite Coffee house. I also needed coffee.
The large mugs, said goodbye to Fred once again, did the same with Lou and Maisie, Elaine, Crystal and Linda started chatting and again said that I should come in winter.
When I had sufficient shakes, I moved the machine and was walking to the post office when Pete called out my name and said that he was sorry we didn’t talk more that it was nice having me around. It meant a lot. On the way back I made a snap of him in his doorway.
Drove up to the Discovery Centre to say good-bye to Jessica and Kris then one last loop around town and I was off.
I was fine until I got to Wiltondale. Noted all the houses where people lived, places that I had visited, places that I had meant to.
Wiltondale to Deer Lake I was still ok at it was part of my extended area. After filling up at the Irving on the Transcanada and not making the turn back to St. Anthony, I knew that I was gone.
Am 600km from Deer Lake, which was 60km beyond the known world. Broke the trip into two halves, Gander being the midpoint. West of Gander made great time 120k/h for most of it, no traffic, no RCMP, still sort of the emptiness that I had got used to.
Stopped in Gander at the Tim’s for a double double – nice energy boost and two muffins. Forgot to eat before I left.
After Gander the road became crowded more cars than I had seen in a long time even on the road up to St. Anthony. Could barely do 110, reckoned that it would take me six hours to get to St. John’s but I was slowed by people barely doing the limit. Even though there was more to see, I was beginning to feel impatient – perhaps because I knew the stretch - but this didn’t bode well for the final trek off the island.
Stopped at Whitbourne to refuel just before the overpass and raced to Duckworth Street.
Fittingly as I hit the Avalon it was foggy and rainy, Duckworth Street was crowded had to park by the court house, Went into the duke and saw the familiar crowd, John and Anita, Sue came later, New glasses for the Smithwicks. Paid and sat. About as many people as the Seabreeze but not as much action. Three television screens, one person was watching some sort of poker. Instead of smoking in the car park on the water here they were smoking on the steps of McMurdo’s lane.
Tried to think that this was a good thing. That I was home everything was familiar, that everything would be alright. But then again everything out in the park was familiar now also. Headed out to Pouch after getting coffee at the Dominion, The road didn’t seem so long this time. The view into town was reassuring. Just wish that after a few hours here I was heading back.
No comments:
Post a Comment