Here’s last night’s sunset (I say two suns; David says it’s just the clouds; I like my perspective better):
We drove in to Grand Bay West, the town next to Port aux Basques to find the beach walk we remember from our first trip here (2001). We found a boardwalk (6 km) and a runner told us that we could either hike it (nope) or drive to the other end and get on the beach (yep).
We saw the horses we remembered, but the beach seemed smaller, and the boardwalk was new and nice (including some fitness stops). We even were educated on the Grand Bay Schist rock formations). It was a nice, nostalgic visit (including a Ruddy Turnstone, a bird we first saw here and maybe the start of our birding interest and a HUGE Gull):
We decided to head to the J. T. Cheeseman Provincial Park and spend the day there on the beach. There wasn’t a soul around, except for one guy in a car. We strolled the beach, found a path through the dunes to an inland tidal pond and were attacked by some territorial Terns. Braving the noise and the dive-bombing, we came across flocks of Semipalmated Plovers and two kinds of Sandpipers (too lazy to ID):
We walked back (in our own footsteps; no one was about):
After lunch, I read and David napped, then, when I set out for a walk, I looked at the guy in the car who was still there. Wow, it was David Ward, a friend from Peterborough/Lindsay who has been living in McCallum (a small, isolated outport on the South shore) for the last five years. When I think of Newfoundland, I often think of him and another friend who together bought a house there. Though they are no longer together, he has stayed there, written a book, published online articles, teaches online and is a member of that community, even working on a lobster boat in season. We had a great time chatting for two hours about life in Newfoundland and changes there, especially in places like McCallum which is now facing the question of resettlement/relocation. This was another special moment for us.
Before we left, we walked some more along the T-Railway (the former railway tracks that are now a provincial park and trails across the province):
We headed back to Port aux Basques to listen to music at their festival and stay for the night. We went right to the wharf and discovered that, because of a little rain and threat of thunderstorm, the music had moved. So we stayed for a while, watched the antics of four New Jersey guys (and a bunch of locals) trying to fix their sail:
As we watched, we decided they were Rumrunners (well, I did) and were like Al Capone getting booze from St. Pierre. Well, later, I talked to one of them and, in fact, they WERE next heading to St. Pierre. Too funny.
We decided we were too exposed here to sleep, so moved to a Coleman’s Grocery Store parking lot overlooking the ocean (with permission) and had a quiet night.
Here’s the view from my chair:
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