A glimpse of St. John's, Newfoundland

It was a crisp and cool morning when I drove across PEI one last time. A low fog crawled across the waterways, hovering above the fields until it was burned away by the bright morning sun rising radiant in the blue sky.  My wish for more time on the island was granted - my flight was delayed almost an hour, which gave me time to read the newspaper and find out about the guy who hadn't received a phone book for two years. The airport was tiny, so I couldn't help overhearing the conversation of a couple of gents behind me.  One was flying to Halifax to buy a new truck.  The other had work in Newfoundland with the VA.  They were congenial and jovial. My opinion of the friendliness of everyone on the island was further cemented when the airline attendant called me and the two other people with connecting flights up to tell us she was going to change our seats so that we were near the front of the plane to depart quickly.  Of course, when I saw the plane, I couldn't help thinking that even the guy in the last row would be able to deplane quickly.  It was a little turquoise prop plane that flew us across the Northumberland Strait, like something from an Indiana Jones movie.

The news stand

Despite the delay, I made the connection and arrived in St. John's, Newfoundland, in time to have a cup of coffee and go with my sister-in-law to pick up my nieces and nephews from their school, which not only resembled an old British boarding school, but it also just so happened to be hosting Harry Potter Day for the third grade, so I got to watch a quidditch match.

The quidditch pitch

The cousins were happy to share the local cuisine with me: Poutine, which is French Fries covered in gravy and cheese curds. I rarely eat these three food items separately, but together, prepared according to Ziggy's secret recipe and accompanied with a ravenous hunger, I gobbled up a large portion. 

My sister-in-law had planned a number of activities for each day of my visit, and she conveniently planned a hike for the afternoon we had poutine for lunch.

With my niece who shares my name. Cool and foggy in late June.

A strange bombed out concrete structure on the hike

If Prince Edward Island is a fresh-faced farmgirl, Newfoundland is a rugged, scruffy lumberjack. Or maybe a crusty sailor. It must have been an ideal hide away for Vikings and pirates. Craggy cliffs hide secret coves from intruders, and fog makes the coast even more impenetrable.

A brief history of Newfoundland (pronounced to rhyme with understand): Originally settled by Vikings, later colonized by French, British, Portuguese, and Spain. Britain and France argued about it for years before it became an independent dominion, only joining Canada in the 20th century. The economy was driven by fishing mainly, but oil is now a primary export. Tensions between Catholics and Protestants apparently contributed to the settlement of different regions, but secularization has eased those old grudges. All official communications are in French and English, but Newfoundlanders speak English peppered with a number of expressions unique to the island.

A spruce forest

Following our hike and visiting with the cousins, we had dinner at a small local restaurant, Mallard Cottage, in the quaint little village of Quidi Vidi, pronounced "Kiddie viddie." At first I thought it was a Native American name, or First Nation, as Canada calls its indigenous people, but it has this funny Latin derivative of a name meaning something like "What do I see?" Whoever bestowed this name on this little fishing town must have been overwhelmed by loveliness of it.

I was equally impressed by our delicious dinner, which included scallops sauteed with spruce tips to begin. I had a stinging nettle pasta with fireweed, roasted tomatoes and lobster, my sister-in-law had halibut, and we shared a dessert board that had tiny bites of different delectables: a buttercream ice, a lemon madeleine with local honey, and tiny brownies with partridge berries.  Even the wine, a pinot grigio from Ontario, was really, really good.  It's the kind of meal that would turn you into a foodie. Newfoundlanders also brew good coffee and good beer, although I had more of the first. Important for keeping warm and combatting jet lag!

Heading out an a whale watching tour the next day.

My three days in Newfoundland were fairly mild, but cool, and the skies were clear. We had an ideal day for whale watching, even though it was early in the migration season. Most of the whales are still in the warmer waters near California, but we caught sight of a couple minky whales and glimpsed a brief view of a humpback.  I was more impressed by the island of puffins and thousands of other sea birds. They flew in swarms above our heads. It is easy to see why the puffin is a beloved icon of Newfoundland. They are cute little sausages that fly fast and furiously across rough seas.

Hello, minky whale

From a distance this looks like an average island.

But up close, you can see it is inhabited by thousands of shore bird: murrs, puffins, gannet, terns, and other feathered friends

Puffins in flight. Hundreds of thousands live in this area on uninhabited islands

A humpback gave us a wave

Up close to an iceberg. We were given a little piece of iceberg to eat, and later we had iceberg beer brewed in Quidi Vidi.

This lady got treated to screech, the locals' favorite rum. My sister-in-law said this is a treat that whale watchers can pay extra for. 

The little fishing village of Petty Harbor where we had lunch - fried cod tongue, moose poutine, friend cod sticks, and moose and barley soup. 

Late June is tulip time.

Waiting for the crab boats.

The little aquarium's touch tanks. 

Next stop: The light house at the end of the continent. The eastern most point of North America

Signal flags in the keeper's office

From the keeper's window

Horse Cove, where we had a dinner picnic.

At the "beach" for our cookout. No sandy beaches here

We attended Sunday Mass at the Basilica of St. John the Baptist, with its altar of the Dead Christ, a masterpiece in marble by Irish sculptor John Hogan.

On to Signal Hill, aka Cabot Tower, where a canyon used to be fired to mark noon and six, and where Gugliemo Marconi first transmitted a transatlantic radio signal - only a couple of generations before satellites enabled all kinds of communications. 

The pink flower is fire weed.

More coastal cliffs

and hidden coves

I imagine fiddleheads are another menu option at Mallard Cottage.

We sampled some fresh spruce tips - lemony, but bitter without butter.

Can you see the mother eagle and her little eaglets two? Feeding time.

Practicing for a performance - young mounties?

The lovely Veiled Virgin, who attracts visitors to a convent of Presentation sisters. A spry 100 year old nun gave us a tour and a blessing after we admired the lovely bust and other statuary. The other art in the room appeared amateurish compared to this beautiful piece. 

One last view of St. John's. As you can see the city is centered on the coast and very much feels like a seaport community, but a working one, not a vacation destination like our coastal town. 

It is fascinating to imagine what type of people were the original settlers of a place like Newfoundland.  These settlers must have had guts and perseverance to carve a home here and stay despite the rugged terrain and chilly climate. Perhaps the friendliness of the people is related to the community that forms to confront adversity and to create feelings of warmth to withstand long and cold winters.  Travel is a good reminder that the world is full of many places to call home and many friendly communities of good people. And it is always good to visit with family, to see the nieces and nephews in their natural environment, and to share their admiration for their adopted home. They return to Texas soon, another place where friendly descendants of tough pioneers live.