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One of my favourites when travelling is the serendipitous. The goal is stated but it is the going that becomes important as experiences can only occur if one places oneself in the way of them.

Even though I tend to be solitary, it has been my opinion that travelling in pairs – while rife with problems of personalities, and at times opposing rituals – heightens this chance.

The duties are over, the prints are up the gallery is in its usual empty state, a line is on the c.v. now dealing with what’s important – swarving about and skitching off.

Had my standard fare when I realised that I was driving not walking so I piled Ubirajara – who this trip is the camera reliving those glory years as the main camera during the M.A. – Ziquinho for the people and a Diana for effect. I also remembered that I could take more than my usual 10 rolls and took a film shield bag full of film.

Stopped at the model boat pond by the Southern Shore Arena a place where I should have stopped when I passed it twice yesterday but was too lazy. At first I was disappointed in the mauze but it worked. I also didn’t realise how symmetrical the day would be.

A pair of moose around Renews was the beginning of the serendipitous day – from now on will be S.D – stopped for a while to watch and while doing so a Budget rent a van- packed with CFA’s stopped in front of us. The Van door opened and while no one got out they documented the moose which were a safe – for them – distance away.

Seeing a nice photograph I approach the van and photograph them photographing the moose – these rolls better turn out!!!

Since mow I surmised that it was a tour I asked how bad the road was to Mistaken Point and Cape Race. The driver went into a panic mentioning shredded tyres and something that was completely impassable – is it walkable? No real answer.

The fog rolls in - then rolls out as we hit Portugal Cove South. I stopped when Anna yelled stop, I didn’t know that she was making a comment about something but as I was stopping I saw a roadside monument. Stopped again at an empty convenience then a pit stop at the Visitor Centre in Portugal Cove South.

Questions asked time spent looking at the displays photographs made of everyone in the centre before pushing off on a road that wasn’t bad at all.

Fog no fog then fog, I am seeing all these lone cabins some done quite nicely as if people are there all year long and not seeing them as being bad at all. Could I become the hateful photographic recluse? It seems that most of these were settlements at one time that were resettled.

The goal was Mistaken Point but Cape Race (cue up Céline Dion) was at the end of the road. Who could resist being the closest landfall to the Titantic. Who could resist is even more that it was completely enclosed by fog with the fog horn complete with warning blasting every 30 or so seconds.

As we parked a car from that I had noticed in another house came racing up. I had just made the comment that naturally the Interpretive centre was closed.


Buddy hops out of the machine and apologises that he wasn’t there. he was having dinner when we drove up. We told him to enjoy his dinner while we strolled about a bit.

Headed out to the closest point to the Titanic a bit then back at the Interpretive Centre we sign in, have a chat and take the light house tour which is something I wouldn’t have done by myself.

Best tour ever, we climb up to the light – warnings all the way about the mercury that is about. Go out at the top to look at the North Atlantic in the mauze, see the lamp house from the bottom and straight on.

-you can go into the lamp if you want.

She first then me. It was a bit dizzying having the fresnel lenses rotate around you, I was alright until I looked up and to assuage those of the pure life this doesn’t have some tragicomic ending everything went fine.


Back down I photographed the three people one who was a bit nervous as I asked him if he had brought back lunch for me. Started the way back but did notice that I had a fat roll, hope things relatively important was on it.

Stopped at another cove on the way out. One where they said that there are seals at times. There weren’t any but there was this cabin that “fell” open when I went up to it.

Looked as if it were used for a warming station for hunting but also looked like someone had recently been in there. I photographed but was intrigued by the video Anna was trying to make in trying to remember/record the place using sound. She had mentioned how frustrating this is – not only due to the claking of ‘Bira but conversations of people close by and other ambient but foreign noises. She had done the same with the fog horn at Cape Race.

A miscue which happens in travel, Mistaken Point was the destination and now that we were passing again I asked if we should stop. I misread the answer and pressed on.

Finally reaching Portugal Cove South again, I stopped to photograph a basketball hoop. She noticed the wood piles of which all other wood piles are envious.

Pulled up hopped out and said that we have a thing for wood piles as everyone along that section of road was now looking at us, could we photograph them.

She went about it, I headed toward the shed where I was going to photograph the person who said yes. He was only down for the day when I gave him the synopsis of my project –he said that he didn’t fit as he was an Upper Canadian. Oh but he did.

Photographed the men in a group due to the way that they were standing but one kept trying to get out of photographic range.

IT seemed that they were down there from Ferryland to put siding on the house. Now the day was done and they were ready to eat.

More people came over to have a look and chat, one – the one from Ferryland – pointed out the murals on the fish factory. A local had done it.

They offered me some moose soup roadkilled earlier. Told them that I was the most hated being in Newfoundland – a vegetarian. They were beginning to step back.
-do you eat fish?
When I answered in the negative my fate was sealed.

As this was going on little known to me a woman – Patricia - was asking Anna if she was lost. Before she knew it she was going back to her place to see the quilts that she was working on. As they were heading across the road I yelled out that there was moose soup awaiting her at the shed.

At first I was welcome to see them as she wanted a photograph of it but when seeing ‘bira she decided that maybe not until she was reassured that I wouldn’t sell the picture.


We spent two hours there. Using the digital to photograph the quilt so that I could e-mail it to her when I got back. We were offered dinner again the vegetarian thing – the daughter age 12(?) was one. I again reminded that there was moose soup awaiting.



We chatted about economics how she
could sell the quilts – make them single panel and call them hangings, About me being born in Balitmore which for some reason impressed her.

Her daughter Linda almost cried when I rattled off the prices of some things back below the 49th. They had to travel to Ferryland to buy groceries.

Starving Anna had a hamburger Max the dog and I watched. Edward came in with a plastic bag of fish, my farm raised travelling companion could name them as she seemed to be able to name just about any animal. The myth of me looking around when driving went out the window as she was finding owls, along the road, she was the one who spotted the moose and later the one who saw the whales first.

Again chatted made more snaps, Anna was coached on how to say Newfoundland correctly NewfnLAND (let’s all try it). Patricia had Max do tricks. The daughter was being eaten up by blackfly.

Finally took our leave with them saying that we are welcome to stay for supper and exchanging proper addresses I am to send a mug up to Patricia when I get back to the states.

Satiated we didn’t have to stop in Trepassey, passing Biscay Bay noticed that the changing room has gone. Fog then no fog again until the beach between St. Stephen and St,Vincent.

Whales at least six of them close to shore. There had been a sighting of them we heard at the Interpretive centre they had been spotted in the area.

Hopped out of the Volvo and headed for the shore. Liked this beach with its grey stones thought it a reminder of what the rock was. No sand grey rock and pebble.

Walked toward St. Vincent’s at about the speed of whales swimming they were swimming in a circle and we were guessing that the caplin were in by the way that the sea birds were flocking. Can tell a gannett as I like the away that they dive bomb food but cannot differentiate between say gulls and terns. Luckily again I had my own interpretive guide.

She, however was quite frustrated as she was making videos and being followed by a young chap on an ATV. I also not used to people who deal with sound in their work would chat chatting at the most Inopportune moments and then show my WGAS upbringing by saying that you can always edit it out.

Again spend a decent amount of time watching both the whales and the birds. When we arrived the fog was just west of us leaving we were enveloped in it. Hollyrood Pond had disappeared along with all the people.

More moose on the way back to Petty Harbour and a stop at a weird little backyard fishing village north of St. Mary’s bookending the ships along the Southern Shore.

Evening – well 11PM at the Grapevine to listen to 30 000 feet as the people from Pouch Cove were getting an outing. I left at 5AM as the next day was moving day.

The five moose on the road added another bookend to the day.

A near enactment of moose road kill by a speeding RCMP car would have simply added some irony.