Didn't get very far...

What do they say about the best made plans?

I stayed in Pasadena last night with friends who treated me to a night of amateur theatre, a hilarious tribute to Monty Python, and woke this morning to find snow gently falling.
"That's okay," I thought, "I've seen worse on the Northern Peninsula." Turns out that I have seen worse but I also didn't need to drive 300km to catch a ferry. Still, in good spirits, I set out for Port aux Basques and made it all of 30km to Corner Brook in an hour and a half.
Turns out that NL is in the midst of a winter storm so I've decided against driving at 20km/h through blindng snow. For the time being at least.
Hilariously, I had very little choice but to take the Corner Brook exit because there was so much snow on the road that Steve was nothing more than a tiny little green train carriage coasting along the "railway tracks" left by the truck in frnt of me. Depressingly admitting defeat, I pulled into the closest service station and was greeted by a lass from St. Lunaire-Griquet on the Northern Peninsula.
She warned me that it was go going to get worst before it got better and being that I could barely see the end of my car on the first leg of the trip, I've decided to wait it out in Corner Brook.
She kindly allowed me to use tne phone to call Marine Atlantic whereupon a delightful chap told me the road was closed near Port aux Basques and tha none of the ferries had docked because of the weather. I've rebooked my ticket for the same time tomorrow but again it is all dependent on how many ferry cancellations there are today.
There is a good reason why people don't drive across Canada in the middle of winter.

So right now I am doing what any smart person would do and am sitting in Brewed Awakenings for a double shot capp. Still looks awfully messy out there. Might hunker down for an hour.

The good news is that Sir Richard is findng the car trip to his liking. He's made a fortress on top of the pile-o-crap n the back of the car and gives me directions when required. He was awfully helpful yellng at me in the snow storm this morning,bless him.

For now I will wait it out.





--
Sent from Steve, a 1999 Mazda Protege

This is the worst kind of melon

Please bear with me for just a moment as I get all melancholy. I promise it won’t happen again (until next time of course).

****

This is it.

It’s over.

It’s the final night in the basement of St. Anthony’s “Milk Carton”.

Not sure how it all rolled around so quickly but it’s over.  

Done.

Naked walls bounce Paul Kelly’s Songs from the Sixteenth Floor around the Spartan living space which, until yesterday, was the home of donated furniture.

Perched in a top hat on the floral chesterfield we watched Will and Kate get hitched, the All Blacks beat the French, Socceroos escorted calmly from the World Cup, a Harry Potter marathon, and now, with the bed sold, it briefly became my nightly refuge.

The kitchen – now reeking of bleach – saw the birth of bread, baked treats, moose vindaloo, moose sushi and a pizza-fuelled tantrum that would have made Ramsey blush.

It’s been fun.  

Now, as I sit in my straw cowboy hat listening to Paul Kelly now telling the tale of Don Bradman, it seems so vacuous, except for the memories.

This is Sir Richard's contribution to helping me pack. Sure, he can't do a lot but this is just taking the piss.

Mega Road Trip --the opening scene

***sssshhhhh***

Scene 1

(Scene opens with a sock-wearing, beard-hoarding, bedraggled former reporter of a local newspaper crouched over his glass-topped kitchen table in a one-bedroom “flat” in northern Newfoundland)

Me: Are you listening?

Sir Richard von Pinkenbah Retractaclaw III: Meow

M: Seriously?

SR: What?

M: I knew we should have called you Gary.

SR: Fine

M: Good

SR: Get on with it

M: The plan is this:

SR: Thus

M: What?

SR: The plan is thus

M: (deep breath)

SR: I’m just pointing out that this and thus should be respected for their grammatical independence

M: Respected

SR: Yes. Respected

M: “ independence”?

SR: Yes?

M: Is this how the trip is going to go?

SR: Perhaps

M: Perhaps?

SR: Yes

M: Fine. The plan is thus:

SR: Better

M: We leave St. Anthony on Friday Jan. 27 and head to Corner Brook. From there we head to Port-aux-Basques to catch the ferry to Nova Scotia at 12:15pm on Saturday, Jan. 28.

SR: Ferry?

M: Yes

SR: You didn’t mention a ferry

M: Why would I?

SR: Courtesy

M: You’re a cat

SR: Speciesism still exists

M: (deep breath)

SR: Discriminator

M: From North Sydney we head to Antigonish in Nova Scotia. Should be there about 10.30pm

SR: I feel discriminate.

M: (deep breath) Discriminated

SR: What? Don’t my feelings count?

M: Of course they….

SR: WELL I DEMAND AN ANSWER

M: We are on an island

SR: And?

M: How do you think we are going to get off an island?

SR: First class

M: First class?

SR: Yes

M: I’m not flying you to Regina

SR: I want those seats, the ones that fold right back, the ones that have the little cup holders and a screen. I’ve missed Big Bang Theory ever since coming to Newfoundland. That lanky guy, the smart one, you know the one?

M: Sheldon

SR: Is it?

M: Yes

SR: Are you sure?

M: (deep breath)

SR: Ok, Sheldon. I like him

M: How about I show you the open road of Canada? How about a 5500km journey across Canada in nine days?

SR: Do I get my own TV?

M: No

SR: NOT ACCEPTABLE

M: You get your own TV

SR: Cup holder?

M: You can use mine

SR: Does that mean there are two?

M: Yes

SR: Can I have both of them?

M: No

SR: Speciest

M: Why do you need two?

SR: I may need to get drunk if I’m spending nine days with you 

Farewell Newfoundland

 I can’t believe I’m leaving a community that has a half-time and a full-time whistle.
 At 12 noon and again at 5pm, St. Anthony’s steam powered flute signals supper and the end of the working day. I’m convinced locals don’t hear it anymore; it’s like car horns in Bangkok or the rattle of a clapped out test tube on the Northern Line in London, it’s at the aural foundation of the community.
But, every time the kettle boils on the East Side of St. Anthony I know it’s time to take a break, or go home.
I’m going to miss it.
It’s not the only thing I’m going to miss.

****

“Just a quick question,” I said. (I’d like to add I was wide-eyed when I asked the question but being my eyes are always wide open when I speak, it’s probably superfluous fluff.)
George, on a Saturday no less, had already fielded questions about where two Australians could swap their licenses for Newfoundland ones, where was good to eat in town and – courtesy of our friend Mark who had driven us from Deer Lake to St. Anthony –  what kind of tidal fluctuations you could expect in the harbour and the Bight.

(Now keep in mind the following has been pieced together from notes written two years ago and contains a mixture of gibberish and journalism shorthand)

He looked at me from behind his desk willing to offer up any advice he could.
“Am I allowed to go fishing in the harbour?”
There was silence as he leaned back in his chair and sized me up from behind his moustache. His gaze suggested a concerted attempt to decide whether the long-haired bearded manchild who had stumbled into his office with two other Come From Aways was an idiot, ill-informed or naive (For the record, I am all three.)
“No b’y,” he said with a smile that over time I discovered was never far from his face, “even if you could you wouldn’t want to.”
It was sound advice.
I later discovered that A) unlike Australia where you can virtually wet a line anywhere you like at any time of the year, in Newfoundland, not even locals are allowed to fish; and B) what you’re likely to catch in the harbour isn’t piscatorial.
During our time we met many people like George. Happy and willing to give advice or tell a tale.

****

I’m never going to be able to quantify the ways I’ll miss this place but I’m definitely going to miss meeting someone on the street and hearing:
 “Whaddya at?”
It’s the question I will forever know the answer.
“This is it.”

The mess...

I'll get it sorted. I have to.

Stay tuned...

Wow, it's hard to believe it's been 18 months since my last blog post but time flies when you are living in northern Newfoundland. For the 1500 or so people who have viewed this page (I'm sure that I account for most of those numbers) stay tuned because Lost and Found is being ressurected. For a short time at least.

--
Sent from Steve, a 1999 Mazda Protege