So it won’t be long now

This is the final stretch tonight it will be Pouch Cove. I am not rushing but I did make samosas so that we can eat on the drive along the TCH. I make my own double doubles as there is no Tim Hortons. There was a plan to leave by 9AM but it wasn’t fixed so much so that I emailed Elke asking her to hid the key somewhere just in case we are in at our usual past midnight time. I have it planned we’ll head down the Pitt’s Memorial Drive to see the harbour and Signal Hill before we head up to Pouch Cove – we will actually buy some food at Dominion before the slow crawl up the Torbay Road.

But first…
Paying the bill for the cottage I ask if the season is pretty much over now that there are no icebergs.
-no b’y the whales are here in August and September some were sighted off the Lighthouse. He somehow found out that I was a photographer – could it have been fisherman Paul – so I leave a book of snaps for Linda and him to look at.

In the morning retrieving the book, Wayne is back from fishing with is allotment of cod. He beckons Baleful over to see them – throats slit – the intern inches closer to vegetarianism.

Buddy, Wayne’s friend holds up two for a better view.

We make a small diversion to the lighthouse and sure enough not only Whales but probably the last iceberg of the season north of Fogo.

That will delay our arrival in Pouch Cove for only 30 minutes and, well Baleful the intern, is giddy that she has now seen in an iceberg and whales.

Then while it is more or less on the way we head up the Bonavista to see the puffins at the Cape.

Mum looks at the lighthouse and the puffins then heads back to the machine for coffee. As she has left me to photograph the lighthouse and the water racing between the cliffs,
we walk to the other point to have a look for the whale spouts we saw coming up the peninsula.

Mom is angry that we didn’t let her travel out on the point.

-The trail isn’t that bad…
the trail is barely two metres wide with a drop off on both sides she tripped on the gravel.

She has her samosa in the machine, we decide to take ours outside for even though we haven’t been in one for a 36 hours there is a feeling of cabin fever with them.

While eating two men come up and state that there are whales just over the tolt up by the inukshuk. I try to ignore them but in the end I race up the hill to see Baleful the intern woefully behind.

It must be cynicism but I was more interested in photographing those staring out to sea than the whales themselves. I went to photograph the other cliché but the intern was over the moon.

We did a drive around Bonavista before heading over to Catalina to see if the kids selling painted rocks for 25¢ were there.

No.

Then fearing some wise arse saying upon hearing that we have driven up the Bonavista, ‘what and you didn’t see Trinity? We went to Trinity. Churches were photographed and we left.

Met a friend at Goobies he heading back me heading on. The others are astounded that this could happen.

Then the counting down the clicks until the sights.

Well no as hitting Pitts Memorial Drive we are socked in. the mauze so strong that even the lights of Mount Pearl seem distant – if only.

No sighting of the Harbour nor Signal Hill just up to the Dominion in Stavanger Drive and on to Sullivan’s Loop in the rain.

In the rain I try to find in vain the key that was left for the Martin and Gabrielle’s. in the rain Baleful sees the four mouser kittens that Elke has for the barn and wants to export them. In the rain we head down to the house to see if a door was left open for us. Back up in the rain where Elke is home and gives us the keys. All this time where were two “wonderful” upper Canadians looking from the safety of Elke’s living room in horror at the man banging on the door with the woman trying to steal the cats not bothering to really move.

But we are here that is all that matters, the ocean is out the front window – or was until my mum wanted the blinds closed so no one would see in - the east coast of the Avalon is rife with peeping tom whales.