Desperately Seeking Shanawdithit

I reckon that the only way that I can get Kennedy out of Martin and Gabrielle’s is through scandal. I tried stink bombs that that popular US technique, loud soft rock music but to no avail.

So I offered to drive him out to the interior of Newfoundland then send photographs of him being driven by a person of colour to the CBC.

Always wanted to see Buchans and when Paul said that he was heading out to Red Indian Lake to interview someone how is an authority on Shanawdithit, I offered to drive out.

Why Buchans, because it as a far inland as one can get easily, because Michael Crummey is from there and it is the end of the road in the middle of the island. Every time I did the TCH passing through Badger I wanted to do the diversion, once I actually turned off but I had to be in St. John’s and not far down the Buchan’s Highway turned back.

The plan was to drive out with him – me driving – I also thought off calling this entry Driving a Kennedy – but not a real one. There would be a stop along the way in Grand Falls/Windsor at the Mary March Museum to talk to a curator there – and for me to get her name in the hopes of the work that went moulding at Pouch would be shown again on the island.

Then to Millertown to find this person who was to take us out in a canoe on Red Indian Lake to the sites of the last living Beothuk.

It seems that Paul was going to use his radio documentary card as he wanted to only hold a microphone to Albert’s face so that he could talk, I would be rowing.

He also needed photographs – ah yes RC-D photographer for radio.

There was no rush so a civilised start, was over on the front deck checking e-mail and talking to Ted about his boat being in the sea finally. He was taking the kids out to-day but there weren’t up yet.

- if I were in bed this long people would be calling 911.

Made it to Tim Horton’s in Stavenger Drive before we switched off – I think that he didn’t want to be seen not driving in Pouch Cove. Had a coffee – I heard that Tim’s put MSG in their coffee and was told to tell them to hold it.

No problem on the TCH – the usual weather nice fog through the isthmus a stop in Goobies for gasoline, and uneventful ride through Terra Nova as we both stare at the landscape, fog at Joey’s Lookout.

I forget how far it is between Gander and Grand Falls/Windsor which now seems like it is called Pinsenttown. We get lost as the Mary March museum is so small that I pass it and am heading out of town again before I do that most unmanly act and ask directions. – I also needed to pee.

Find it but decide it is time to eat and head to Tai Sun restaurant specialising in Chinese and Canadian Cuisine – neither really well.
I have the mushroom foo yung and the vegetable – read cabbage – chop suey with noodle – six crispy noodles.

Kennedy asks for the beer list.
-tell me what you want it will be faster the server says.
As he is mentioning Tsing Tao, she rattles off Cohrs Light, Canadian, Canadian Light, Blue and Budweiser.

After the leisurely lunch we head back to the museum to see if the curator is in.

Nope.

Will she be in to-morrow?

Nope

We leave with time to spare. I head over to the ball park to photograph it while Paul has other business to attend to.

I leave the film in the machine so have to head back to pick some up when the heavens open and really open. The streets become rivers, I pick up Paul head over to the Museum to pick up a to find Millertown – which spookily is already marked on the map – and in doing so become a contestant in the GFW wet t-shirt contest.

There are people standing on the steps waiting for the downpour to stop and one speaks to me – damn her.

Race to the machine pick up the camera, go back and photograph the people waiting.

Leave, saying that no one should be a slave to the weather, and stroll back to the car where we wait out the rain.

When it finally stops we head over to the ball park complex which is nothing but soggy ground and deep puddles but doesn’t stop some footballers from practicing.

Buddy comes out and tells us that he hasn’t seen rain like that before and in fact states it many times.

While he is talking to Kennedy I am heading off to the lake that was once a ball park.

Nice park not so much for what it is but where it is, dangerous stands, it is below the TCH with all these steps that lead to nowhere.

At first I thought that the Grand Stand was the ball park even when I knew it wasn’t made sure that I made some snaps of it.

My new found inefficiency was still present as I had to keep going back to the car for something or other – don’t know what I don’t carry the bag. To-day with the low sky was not a day to dally.

Wondered why there was a beach volleyball court in GFW.
-bikinis.
-ah.

Seeing the ocean has one forget how great rivers can be. Lake Gander was impressive but the Exploits…

We had nothing to do and time to kill so to Buchans 50 km off the TCH not even on Red Indian Lake, I wasn’t sure what to expect Buchans was definitely below anything that I could think of. We should have had a clue when at Buchan’s Junction there was the Mary March Lounge and Beothuk Street.

Buchans was dismal, a mining town – all around it the beauty of lakes and in the distance the Long Range Mountains. There houses that look like they could be moved when the mine closed. Instead of a greenbelt around the city there was a brown belt.



It is the type of place that I would want to spend more time in. If there were a Newfoundland version of Deadwood this is were it would be filmed.


As I was going to get out to photograph another downpour – we now realised that we both cannot get out of the machine at the same time I would have to exit, Paul would count to ten then leave the car. As every time we opened the door at the same time a drenching rain would happen.

Photographed around the old mine – just off downtown, a forlorn ballpark – where the RCMP passed but I reckoned that even they know that there is nothing in Buchans.

Headed over the hockey arena where we walked out of town again gob smacked it seemed that the mines had this scorched earth policy for the town.

Seen enough we head over to Millertown and the Bed and Breakfast passing the Mary March Lounge again this time with cars in front killing any sort of aesthetic snap that I could get.

Nevertheless after supper we have to try it out.

We guess what the place will be like. Paul is hoping for Mary March Lounge souvenirs – swizzle sticks, beer mats etc – poor deluded Upper Canadian.

I drew on my experience at the Seabreeze and with the exception of people in the bar and things that I forgot but were pretty obvious I was closer to the interior – No draughts beer – LaBatt’s and Molson Products only we would be drinking something other than Cohr’s light, pool table darts. I forgot the video gaming, TV and said that there would be eight people in the bar. There were four.

Two beers – me Jockey Club, he Black Horse - later we call it a night. The three people are still at the video gaming machines.