Twillingate

So we were to take the night ferry so that we would be refreshed for the journey across the island without having to pay for a motel room or two. But when the ferry leaves at 6AM is it still worth it even one is still tired? In fact so tired that one cannot sleep?

Watched the Leif Erickson pull into the docks in North Sydney at 4:30AM listened to the machines race off down the mainland. Waited for the silence to break with the starting of engines and the slow climb into the bowels of the ship.

We went up to the cabin and awaited the departure heading on the deck and seeing the dawn.



Woke up with a headache, but wanted to get on deck to see the rock in the distance.

In the distance and the mauze.

It was 11AM when the captain announced that if you could see over the sea you’d see that we are about to enter the harbour at Port-aux-Basques.

At elevan we were supposed to be well past Corner Brook and nearing Deer Lake where I would determine whether a diversion up to Bonne Bay was in order.

We dock and being down in the area, I thought that I would have a look around Port-aux-Basques simply because the last times I was here I was racing out or it was dark and I had too much equipment to do anything.

I also wanted to see Rose Blanche that I had heard had been resettled – it seemed pretty lively to me.

The initial plan was to race to Corner Brook stock up on food as we would finally be able to cook, buy supplies, exchanged Bush wacked greenbacks for Harper Dollars, have a meal downtown before heading out to Twillingate.

We wouldn’t make Corner Brook before the banks closed and we were now hungry as it was noon not 7AM – so a bit of a delay changing money and eating at a hotel restaurant.

Still I was determined to see Rose Blanche so after we were double doubled and tim bitted we headed away from the TCH.

I was glad to get off the main road I was happy to see outports again. It was reassuring to read place names like Burnt River and Isle aux Morts. I had been using Ziquinho in the maritimes but now it was Ubirajara’s time. No more note taking I was trying to calm down and look.

A division photographically had taken place. Ziquinho and ‘Bira were being used for the “real”work. People had been consigned to the digital camera along with snaps for the blog. At first I was happy with this and I am finding out that I am taking more snaps of the same person which means that there may be less images where the people seem less awkward as their part in the collaboration has diminished. But then I remembered that this isn’t film and all I need is for one of the newfangled machines to hiccough and the archive would disappear.

It looks like Clarke’s Beach 2008 will be a lulu/blurb book.

I was still trying to make time as all it seemed that we had been doing was racing for something. The feeling was universal as we saw potential snaps along the way to Rose Blanche but didn’t stop saying that we get them on the way back.

I was disappointed as I was thinking that I would find recently abandoned houses in the town – I am sure that the inhabitants don’t feel the same way – but it did give us a reason to slow down.

Took the tour of the lighthouse which was along a path back from the ocean – as it was too steep for my mother we left her in the car with the cracked so that the Royal Society for the Protection and Care of the Elderly wouldn’t get on our case.

But time was getting late I was afraid that our accommodation in Twillingate would be given up so we tried to phone from there – roaming charges and all.

It is a pitiful sight seeing mobile phoned people waving their devices in the air trying to get a signal. A livyer passes and says that if we climb that rock behind us we may get a signal – yeah right I am getting one of these things.

We race over to the tourist centre on the TCH – but not before stopping at the town dumps at there were three crosses out front of it, at a cemetery which was now a bog, another one with an open grave, to photograph two lads fishing and the town of Isle aux Morts.

Had the idea that on the last day in the province we would come to Port-aux-Basques early and wander a bit here again.

Phone the place from the tourist centre – and steal a few more maps – which is better than pilfering all the air sickness bags from the ferry as the intern did. My mother is chatting with a man.

-She’s single I say
-my wife would object he replies.

It is 120 minutes to Corner Brook, It is 6PM, I know as the Jacinta Wall’s programme is on.

We arrive in Corner Brook as As It Happens signs off. with the low fuel light on as I forgot to fill up before hitting this stretch of the TCH.

Fill up at the Irving in Masse Drive - forgo a tour of Corner Brook and head over to the Dominion to by provisions.
Over to the Subway to eat while driving as if we leave now we can be in Twillingate at 3AM.

Hop into the car and a wrench shows up on the dash board and there is an oil warning where the mileage used to be.

Panic find no oil in the tank. Buy four quarts from Canadian Tire – light still doesn’t go out.

Ask someone standing in the lot what does this mean and find out that the light is a reminder to have the oil changed and can only be reset by a dealer.

Off we go to Twillingate listening to Ideas as we head to Deer Lake. I am so hyper now that I ran two red lights.

On the Trans Canada around Pasadena –this province’s downpour. I start hydroplaning making me slow down to 100k/h.

An ambulance passes heading toward Corner Brook. The intern sees this as a sign and hints hoping to get the backing of my mum that we should give up and stop for the night.

I agree.

Stop at the Deer Lake motel. No rooms. There are no rooms in town. There may be a room or two at the motel on the way to Twillingate a hour down the road.

- Are you familiar with driving out here?
- Yes why do you ask
- Simply want to make sure you are aware of moose.

We head east now even more aware – three pairs of eyes on the lookout. We see lightning instead.

I turn the car around. I know when I am licked I know that we will get to this motel and a sink hole will have swallowed it. I head back to Corner Brook giving options of places to stay.

- The closest one. Is shouted out in unison.
I pity their lack of imagination but pull into the Comfort Inn back in Massey Drive
No rooms but across the street in the Mamateek Inn there are rooms.
I finally eat my subway.