-excuse me...

...she said as i was trying to consolidate everything i would need for the ferry.
i know i am taking a big risk here...but...
as she lifted her minox 35mm
-i saw that you use film and i was wondering... if you had an extra battery for this.
-ah nope it is a px 27 i answer in true geek style pretty hard to find in fact you may have to find an alkaline substitute.
-dommage.

when i awoke i still had inklings of driving back to bonne bay and then on to the ferry. after all the late ferry was going to leave even later and there would be - most likely - enough time. if i were early i would make snaps around port-aux-basques.

but no. i went across west street to have a coffee at brewed awakening while reading the globe pretending i was in water street. walked into the bike shop next door to tempted to counter obama’s buy american by getting a rocky mountain bicycle. used to hate corner brook now not so much.

odd sitting like that not rushing just preparing for the day when i wanted to explore some places along the tch on the way to the ferry. not too far off the road mind you and without too many options.

knew someone who lived in cox’s cove so decided that to be a destination. the north shore of the humber, the bank of montréal building where i stayed during the corner brook residency stood out from this shore. worried as i headed to cox’s cove as i was passing many potential picture points that would only get me into trouble.

parked and walked as the place was hopping the fish plant was in operation, there were people on the beach - two - buddy out on his front porch would head inside every time i passed thinking that i would want to sneak his snap. maybe he saw me chatting with frank and paul. grimier than salvage but busier.

what took me aback again was the disparity between nautical miles and road miles. i could see the tablelands, and but they were two hours away in the opposite direction by machine.

i met frank and paul when i asked if the buildings i saw on the opposite shore were chimney cove, a place i was to go to. frank didn’t know as he was a newcomer, born in gaspésie and here via ontario, paul had been here longer and answered in the affirmative, showed me another cove.

wandered the water front, this time juxtaposing as like salvage there was an odd space around objects there was the crowding i would see in some places but also definitely not the isolation in others. here i preferred working establishments.

stopped in mcivers because of the ball park with one of the best home dugouts. the best is still in burin. while i walked slowly through cox’s cove making sure i allowed it enough time, i was to hop out of the machine head up to the park make the snaps and be on my way.

but then there was the harbour, the seniors centre, buddies and their dog, wondering why the tablelands can be seen from the village - they cannot, it were the blow-me-downs - and the clothes lines over the gulf of st lawrence.

a stop at brake’s convenience - closed - before putting on the blinkers - pun intended - and trying to get back to the trans canada.

it is regret that makes me stop. i was barrelling toward that final stretch, until i realised that the structure that i saw turning the bend in irishtown could be a drive-in screen. this would haunt me the way those two missed buildings in mabou were doing.

turned around, headed as far up the road as i dared then walked and lo and behold a screen with the humber and mountains in the background. this is the reason why i want to turn down every road. while cox’s cove was fine for a walk although a bit lacking in snaps, it led to mcivers and this. i begin to think of all those roads that i could turn into while heading here. i then thought about how was i possibly going to choose which road i would take on the way to the ferry. trying to eliminate choice, the roads chosen were those that were short and had no options.

i had to go to st george’s so that bethy what’s her name one have been a place that i haven’t. then chose flat bay for the name. actually there were better place names but they would cause all sorts of problems.

a few potential snaps, the houses again that hid their habitation, lounges, but i was drawn to barachois brook, the bar and the hint of industry over the water. this was atv land, having to make sure that i didn’t hit people on the trails crossing the road than anything on the road.

flat bay, st teresa was disappointing as i couldn’t get close enough to the water and there didn’t seem to be any centre. two cemeteries because i thought that i had to photograph something.

a stop at the burgeo highway to imagine.


if i headed straight through i would be at the terminal at the required time. like north sydney i could park the machine, walk into town to make snaps and have something to eat before leaving the rock.

how long before we actually start to board?
two hours
can i make it into town?
where’s town.

it seems that i point in the wrong direction, he sets me straight. i was pointing to a pizza place he was pointing to the centre.

-thirty minute walk each way, eating two hours, you don’t have time. - he was thinking st christopher’s which would be true.

at that time too short to do anything too long to simply wait.

i was preparing for the boarding, changing film, moving cameras about when she saw me.

she saw that i was using film and decided to ask. i said that i had to make her snap and since her beau was too cowardly to get out of the machine i need to make his also.

it seems that she is a documentarian, who had done what i had wanted to do - she had been to baie-comeau and beyond up the north shore of st. lawrence beyond sept îles. she was making a video of the area. mentioned the anglophone settlements there she was familiar with them. told them of my frustrated plans and the book i had seen that was part of my curiosity.

show them the book, he had seen some of the snaps in gros morne. i was intrigued.
we had similar interests, they had eaten at java jakes, mentioned trying to get snaps into the gallery there.
being quebécoise i mention the residency in conche, they want to do gros morne, mentioned that i was on it, then the call to get ready to board. back to the machines, and an hour wait as the confusion continued.

i wanted to ask about how they managed on the north shore, how they got about, did they take ferries to the more remote places and had hoped that they would make more contact on the ship, i didn’t want to initiate another meeting for fearing of geeking out on them.

they were more concerned about sleeping and eating while i was trying to use the time to download - they were racing for seats that recline, i was racing for electrical outlets.