Green Gardens

It was time to actually to try to do something inside the park again. Except for the Western Brook Pond walk, most of the time I have spent in the towns that aren’t in the park boundaries. I had been intrigued by a walk called Green Gardens, on the way to Trout River, on the opposite of the road from the Tablelands. What was remarkable was that from the road there was no green anywhere to be seen – more like rock gardens. Pulled off at one car park only to find that the path was closed. The next car park was full, we had to park outside of the area but being Parks Canada Man, I would be allowed. Took the Hobo my usual load of film and the digital camera.

The initial walk up the mountain was pleasant enough, winding not steep at all, when we reached the summit there was a pile of stones which seem to clog tolts around the land. Again there was a pleasant decline, past a pond, then a drop. Quite a steep drop, a drop that needed steps, steps awkwardly placed, we met Robert and his partner who recognised me as the artist-in-residence – the camera gave me away I think. They live in the last house is Curzon Village.

More awkward strangely spaced steps down already dreaded the walk back but then remembered it was a circular walk and was grateful.

We were now in the trees and plants had taken the place of rocks but still not a snap had been made. The place wasn’t of my liking, too closed in but not messy enough. Came to an opening where we could see the Gulf but high on a cliff – not what I had expected – below there were people on the beach, but from where we were we had no idea how they got down there.

Continued on, past camp sites, then into an opening with more awkward stairs down to the water but first on a mound Kendra had to do a fandango for an ex-beau. A side theme for the trip has been calling attention to all the stereotypes associated with landscape bliss. The fandango seems to be on top of that list.

The beach was a relief, more open, more things to play with. Made a few proper snaps, that should fit with the decorum and requirements of being an artist in residence - Some more rocks floating in water, some rock outcroppings, the water as horizon line.

Then got out the digital and started being ironic. Photographed rocks close up in the water from the level of the sea in the attempt to find the rock that we were on, photographed jellyfish as they were being beached hoping to get a perfect circle to counterbalance the Molson Canadian bottle cap and what ever third round thing I would find.

Kendra was picking things up to photograph them or making confusing photographs depth wise.

Passers-by must have thought that the special school bus had let out. Of course the size of my other camera drew even more attention but they didn’t know what to make of what was going on.

Two hours later, we left to find out that the circular path was not on as the last leg was closed. I could only think of those oddly placed steps and dreaded the climb but bucked up and got on with it.

Funny how the mind plays games on one. The dreaded steps were as bad as I remembered, what I didn’t remember was the rest of the climb which was as bad or worse, it seemed that we never stopped going up. There was no levelling out at all, worse there were small declines meaning that that lost ground height wise would have to be made up. The climb was so long that I thought that this had to be a different path. While I was in pain at least we were passing others on the trail.

Now it was a walk of death, no pictures were made, was thinking what this would have been like if I had taken the Deardorff and everything that went with it. then thought of the few snaps and if it were worth it – well no – I don’t think that I have printed anything made on the beach with the Hobo.

Finally we were out and the rise was as pleasant as the rise to the tolt from the car park.

Now I photographed, the emptiness to the West and the pile of rubble at the tolt. Most of the snaps used from the outing were within 500m of the car park. Naturally then I photographed the car park.

Everyone was at the Seabreeze that evening. Paul had come up to the house to see if Kendra needed a ride to either the Seabreeze or to the Rusty Jigger the next day, She declined both offers, it was supper time for the former and Elaine was driving us for the latter.

We said that we would meet him at the bar later. When we got there the entire family was there, all in the centre of the bar, Amy, France, Paul, and other Brakes I cannot remember. As it was men’s night played some pool and hung around until the drawing for the boat ride on the Sarah Elizabeth. Won because just about everyone else had left.