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There was a reluctance by the fellow travellers to go anywhere on Sunday. It could have been the joy of not having to race off someplace or that they were hungover from the night before. Whatever the reason I wasn’t upset. I could explore the area around Pouch Cove but not having to be driving left open almost too many options.

So after Sharon left – she stopped in hearing that my mum was in town bringing in her bitch as she was in heat - I headed out. It seems that her brother had a brain stem stroke and is in hospital in St. John’s. Offered her a mug up but she had to get back and walk the other dog.

Settled on walking toward the clear cutting that was near the road to Cape St. Francis in the hopes of actually making it to the road. Tried in winter but the paths were rivers and had to turn back.

Took Ubirajara and the digital. It seems that although one of ‘bira’s backs ruined innumerable rolls last year, I found that I was preferring it to Ziquinho as I can move closer to objects and still have that infinity setting. Being mauzy I didn’t have to worry about meter readings.

The digital as it has become the official people camera, I don’t think of the consequences of this –and by the way the viewing glass does scratch easily.

Found during the walk that I am not interested in unadulterated land, I was looking for those traits that showed human interaction and in this specific case coming to terms with the swaths of cut timber used to heat houses. It was done for a need, done from a property owner’s property, was needed – even this august the fire has been on twice – makes beautiful wood pile sculpture but also leaves these areas that have been laid to waste. They are not cleanly cut, there are trunks trees fallen over, some brush but not the wall of trees seen coming up to them.

Made it to another pond – or maybe the same one – when I thought that I had finally broken through to the road – saw a boat on the other side but couldn’t figure out how to get over there. Tried once more to reach the road only to find that I came out of the woods still in Pouch Cove. One day I must walk with Russ in the morning.

Feeling great I thought that I would round up Nina and head up to the Cape for an early afternoon walk. The sky had brightened a bit and the weather was perfect for heading out on the rocks.

Ted was drying his cod on the laundry line.


But it was to be a Wal-Mart outing. My mother needed something and only Wal-mart would do. By now I was hoping not to drive but once in the machine might as well. On the way I found out that it was to be souvenir shopping also – meaning downtown St. John’s so brought a book to leave at Sargeant before hitting those tourist dives along Water Street – the new Water Street, a micro brewery, another coffee shop – they are springing up everywhere.

But I could do an early evening walk up the tolt. Same equipment same idea but this time it was also to take Baleful the intern up so that one more must do would have been accomplished.

It was depressing, coming out of the woods and nearing the last climb I could see all these blueberry plants with berries that will be ready for eating about the time we head on the ferry back to Bushland. Did manage to find a dozen or so ripe ones but remember other times in late autumn where I would simply down in a patch and chow down.

The sky was high the air was clear and at times the sun was breaking through there was a new flag, and at a lower peak – a torn graffiti-ed Newfoundland flag.

While Baleful went for the view I went for the graffiti.

We love thee tagged land.