Good Viewing in Bonavista

At the tippy top of Bonavista peninsula is a wee statue of a man who landed here in 1497. 

Funny story. John Cabot was not at all English, but Italian. 

An explorer and navigator (all the best navigators and mapmakers in those days were Italians) he reasoned that the rich Spanish would not fund another trip so soon after Columbus (who didn't even land in North American at all!) so went to Spain's rival, England. 

Henry VII gave him a commission and a boat and a team and funding to set sail from Bristol with:

... free authority, faculty and power to sail to all parts, regions, and coasts of the eastern, western and northern sea, under our banners, flags, and ensigns, with five ships or vessels of whatsoever burden and quality they may be, and with so many and with such mariners and men as they may wish to take with them in the said ships, at their own proper costs and charges, to find, discover and investigate whatsoever islands, countries, regions or provinces of heathens and infidels, in whatsoever part of the world placed, which before this time were unknown to all Christians.

John Cabot was born Giovanni Caboto, but became known as John Cabot due to the European tradition of the time when names were translated according to contemporary documents of the country in question, in this case England. 

Even though he did not find the China he (and Christopher Columbus before him), Spain's loss was England's gain, as his landing and "discovery" launched the great cod fishing competition between nations, and England was out of the gate first. 

It's easy to think that India was Britain's wealthiest colony, or the West Indies, but Newfoundland had them all beat. One word - cod.

Fish that could be dried and salted and transported easily for months at a time was not only lucrative as a product to sell in Europe, but it allowed ships to sail for months and months by providing light, nutritious food for the crew. It is a little known fact that Britain's famed Armada was the success it was because of Newfoundland - it trained its men on runs to and from Newfoundland, fighting off Spanish and Portuguese and Basque and French ships, and all this was fueled by salt cod. It brought riches to England way beyond any other resource from any other colony - for centuries.

And don't get me started on how the fish merchants treated the fishermen who actually caught and prepared all that cod! The rich owners, living in the West Country (e.g., Devon), almost to a man never even set foot on the Island but exploited their "employees" shamefully. Merchants put up the finances and paid for the boats and enterprises, and had to deal with uncertain weather and pirates, and could be at the mercy of their agents. There was corruption and bad management all round - aided by the fact that merchants never did come to visit their productions. 

But merchants' their tight-fisted and hands-off monopoly kept the fishers completely beholden to the merchants for everything, even for life itself. Food was given instead of wages, based on the catch. Bad catch this year no matter how many months you spent working? Too bad. No food or clothing for the winter for you and your family. And the cost of the goods were exorbitant as the merchants chose the terms. 

family operation

Reading nonfiction histories were wonderful with the whos and whens (e.g., The Colony of Unrequited Dreams by Wayne Johnston) and fiction filled in the whys and hows (e.g., The Innocents by Michael Crummey, Random Passage by Bernice Morgan).

The latter novel was such a hit that it spawned a TV series, filmed not far from Trinity, and the set is still there, at the end of a long, gravel road. We were the only ones there, and could well imagine what it must have been like, eking out a living in this isolated place, coexisting with a few others on whom your life depended. Everyone had to work incredibly hard, all year round to catch and prepare cod for the owner in whatever way one could. 

They had to build shelter with whatever wood or sod was at hand, make fuel to last the winter, build a boat, make or me nd what nets came their way, set up the storage rooms and cod preparation site. They also had to make or mend clothing and shoes (often wearing the same clothing years at a time), try to grow vegetables if there was a bit of land that could be prepared, with fish guts and seaweed to enrich the meagre soil. The lucky ones were able to get a gun for hunting, or make traps. It was hand to mouth existence, with no cash given for their work, just the hope of enough food (flour, molasses, potatoes, etc.) as well as maybe sewing needles, cloth, or a knife if the catch earned enough favour. 

the entire village - probably 3 to 5 families

benign view today

Small huts, called tilts, were often set on stilts over the ocean. Bigger ones were called Salt Boxes, as they resembled the upright containers salt arrived in. Traditionally they had a short steep roof in front and a longer steep slope in the back. So called biscuit box houses were larger, two storeys, and with a gently curved roof. A fish flake is a platform built of evenly thin trees stripped and topped with more poles lashed together to allow fish to be dried on top. Fish was gutted, then salted, then dried, then packed into barrels. 

sod roof for insulation

walls either horizontal or vertical as per choice
 or construction skill level

the flake next to a tilt

don't fancy that wooden chimney!

In the end, the cod stocks started to fall through overfishing, and Newfoundland gained a form of self-government - a rocky road in itself! But for centuries, this was the place to put your money into, and many family dynasties can claim their wealth and status on the lowly cod.

So there he stands, John Cabot, right by the uniquely painted Bonavista lighthouse, both beacons in their own way.

 

Flight of Fancy

Newfoundland certainly likes to hide its light under a bushel. 

Amazing attractions are not really promoted or sign posted here. You just have to know about them yourself and then have faith that there will be something at the end of the road, perhaps be a tiny, ancient, sign with paint peeling off it to indicate you are in the general neighbourhood of what you are looking for.

For example, Amelia Earhart’s solo flight, as the first woman in the world to fly across the Atlantic, took off from Newfoundland. This was an extraordinary achievement, especially in 1932. May 20th to be exact.

You might imagine this happened from one of Newfoundland’s major airports. But no! In the character of an Ealing Comedy film, the tiny town of Harbour Grace was chosen as the site for the takeoff and the whole town turned out to cut a runway from the forest near the ocean. The runway still exists. 

But to find this landmark runway, one must be alert enough to see a tiny blue and white signs (of which there are only two or three) sending you up a little road. 

This road narrows, then becomes a gravel road that snakes and winds up around the small town of Harbour Grace, past fields, under a highway, between ponds and streams, and still on and on - by this time you are wondering where you are - until suddenly you come to the end of the road at a farmers gate with a sign. 

Is this really it? We walk through the gate and find ourselves standing at the top of a long grassy field at the top of a hill, with a wall of rock on one end and a gentle slope several hundred metres downhill. 

We can see at one end there is a plaque, a series of signposts showing the destinations of multiple historic flights in the 1920s and 1930s that took off from Harbour Grace,- and that’s it. No entrance fee, no gift shop, no interpretive centre about Amelia or about the many other historic flights this little patch of grass has served. Just us and the wind.

This place looks exactly like it must have done in 1932. Time has stood still. The grass on the runway is ready for the next flight. Amelia could be getting ready to take off. Horses were and still are let loose on the runway to keep the grass down. That's the only technology here.

Back in Harbour Grace, along the side of the road into town, there is a small statue off to the side, next to a vintage local cargo plane. We see a few faded yellow roses strewn near Amelia's feet, where members of the Ninety-Nines, the International Organization of Women Pilots, recently came from away to Harbour Grace to pay homage to the 90th anniversary of that flight, just a few days ago. At least someone else was also able to find that airfield!  

As it was:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wno39E7pwAg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb74J3UfMsE

 

The Chevy to the Bevy

Five minutes after booking our flight we  booked our rental car. We had read and heard again and again how people have been stranded without wheels and we were determined to make sure our trip wasn't kiboshed before it started because we had neglected to heed the warnings.     

Stress was severely reduced when we secured a car, but renting vehicles is always a bit of a gamble. Although you might book something small, based on availability you might get a free upgrade to something huge and unwieldy. 

Thankfully, we got what was advertised on the tin. Here is our Chevrolet Trax 4x4. 

We needed something that could handle rain, freezing temperatures, wind and bugs, hills and Atlantic storms without turning Jenny’s spine and Martin's nerves to mush. 

Now our only worry is hitting a moose!

the bevy....

.....at the end of the drive

Port de Grave

Yep, more Butler family research I'm afraid. But we really are near the end of this part of the trip, so forgive us our trespasses, as this blog also serves as a diary so we remember things, our brains being not what they used to be.

We are deep in Butler territory here. The first Butlers settled land here about 400 years ago, not long after Cupids was a going concern. 

It's in the middle of a long thin peninsula, with easy access to both sides. A good natural harbour is a plus, as the land is pretty open and exposed to the elements.

both sides of the same ocean

The French were the first ones to use this place, who gave it its name (meaning harbour of the beach), but they used it only during the summer cod fishery. The Andrews family were the first here, and Thomas Butler (aha!) followed shortly, and by 1675 his was the largest of the three existing plantations, according to Newfoundland's first census.

The French fishers did not approve of such wealth in so-called English hands and they came along and burned the entire place down. Not once, but twice. So there.

But the Butlers and others came back and continued to fish for generations more.

Jenny connected with the Port de Grave Heritage Society a few months ago, and she was connected to a local lady who had traced her Butler roots all the way back to Thomas. Now 80, Mona Petten invited us to visit her at home and compare notes, and then drove us around to various cemeteries that might be of interest.

the very tiny and very old Butler cemetery

the bell is where the Methodist church was,
and the graves are up the hill behind

As it happened the original Thomas had two sons - James and John. Various generations of Jameses are quite well documented, and Mona is descended from those. I am of the John line, which is a little less documented so there is still work for me to do to confirm the dots I have. Some of the Jameses members made names for themselves and became quite well known. It would appear that the Johns were a little less illustrious.

It was raining and cold when we visited the two oldest cemeteries in Port de Grave, the tiny Butler cemetery, reserved for that illustrious (ahem) family, and the Methodist cemetery that was behind the long-gone church. There are very few graves in both, and almost none with legible gravestones. The only ones still readable are too recent to be of service, but it was fascinating to see that graves here were generally placed up on hills, commanding wonderful views for those who no longer had eyes to see.

struggling steep hill to see a grave that couldn't be read

a rare grave that could still be read,
for John and Susan Butler, but are they relations?

most of the graves had only a shard of the
original stone, and all worn clean

Back to the prosperous harbour, where the crab fishery is in full swing. I am told that there are still Butlers living here, no doubt a few double digit cousins. Nice to know.

the still active harbour at Port de Grave

one of the Port de Grave Historical Society's next projects?

Hibbs Hole where Mona lives

at Hibbs Hole

the generous and kind Mona

sunset over Port de Grave and the end of the family history part of our trip

    

Cupids

This is for all us history nerds. If that's not your bag, then I invite you to pour yourself a glass of wine, or take a nap. I won't take long, Promise.

In 1610 a man named John Guy sailed out of Bristol, England armed with a royal charter to set up the first settlement in Newfoundland, and take advantage of what had become a very lucrative cod fishing industry. Competitive too, as Portuguese, Basque, Spanish, French and English fishers raced to Newfoundland to obtain the first batch of cod, dry it and salt it, and bring it back to the old world where it was in high demand.

John Guy reasoned that a permanent settlement on the Island would provide an advantage. He and 39 others came (including one Samuel Butler who is plausibly my ancestor - I'm working on confirmation of that link!), settling in what was then Cuper's Cove, and which is now known as Cupids. More joined them in 1612, including 16 women. 

Those first few years were devilishly hard work. 

They not only had to clear land and build sufficient accommodation but also built fortification to protect them from raiders. They were charged with building a forge, raising livestock, establishing farms, seek resources and collect ore and wood. Oh, and fish, dry, salt full time during the season.

Not easy is an understatement. The weather was harsh, and several died in the first few years, The soil was too poor for farming grain, and scurvy was persistent, until it was discovered that turnips were a good source of vitamin C (much later). 

They built a boat, the first built in Canada, called the Indeavour. Its first voyage was to Trinity Bay for establishing a trading relationship with the Beothuk First Nations people.

The infamous pirate Peter Easton took what little livestock the settlers had. John Guy himself went back to England in a bit of a huff and for good in 1615, taking some of the settlers back to Bristol with him.

The remainers stayed and moved on to nearby harbours, including Port de Grave, expanding England's hold on this, Britain's very first of its many future colonies. 

This original plantation at Cupids, the second oldest still remaining settlement in the new world, beaten by Jamestown Virginia by 3 years, has only fairly recently been located. In the late 1990s, Bill Gilbert found it, and is currently excavating it with a small team. It is he who determined the above engraving was John Guy. It's old school archaeology, with slow, hand sifting bit by bit, as much as can be done each summer season. History is being revealed, layer by layer.

a canon would have been placed on this stone base,
which would have been higher back then

check out that 500 year old 90 degree angle!

cobblestones means this area was for livestock

when the digging gets down to the pale orange colour as on the right, it stops. That soil is sterile, which means it was never disturbed by human activity

an outline of the original building gives perspective

A woman who lives there in her trailer allowed this band of archaeologists to dig up her back garden. In return, when the land was secured from the Province, she has been allowed to stay in her home as long as she needs it. 

surrounded!

When she is gone, the trailer will be removed and what is underground will be revealed. Imagine living above North American history, making a pot of coffee over ancient gun plinths or blacksmith hearths perhaps. 

the entire site on which Canada was founded

Topsail

We picked up our rental car (booked 5 minutes after booking our flight to ensure we got a rare and precious vehicle for the duration) and hit the road in sunshine.

Some claim to live in Paradise, but we claim to have passed it on the road, although the sign indicates Paradise is all around us, in every direction.

Even Paradise is sponsored and commercialized though...

With that little roadside philosophy in our minds, we went 5 minutes further to a seaside summer holiday town of Topsail.

And why to this little spot barely out of St. John's? Well, if I said it had something to do with my family research would you be completely surprised? 

At some point in the mid- or late-1800s, my Butler family moved from Port de Grave to Topsail. For generations there were Butlers who spent half the year Topsail where their gardens and livestock were kept, after the other half spent fishing from their homes in Port de Grave, across Conception Bay. Easy if you have a boat, and my family were always ships' captains and fishers. 

It seems my particular Butler family moved to Topsail more fully, and for many years. Perhaps to spend more time with other Butler cousins? Perhaps because the matriarch of the generation,, Priscilla passed away? I have no idea, as I could find nothing at all about my great-great-great grandmother Priscilla except her name on a couple of birth certificates in 1834 and 1836.

Poor women. Rarely mentioned in documents, never in censuses. In the early days the cattle were mentioned first! And yet they were the ones keeping the family generations going, often dying in the birthing process. So I have a soft spot for Priscilla Butler - birthdate unknown, marriage date unknown, deathdate unknown. Maybe she just doesn't want to be found.

But I did find the grave of Priscilla's husband, my great-great-great grandfather Charles Butler, 1796-1888, born in Port de Grave and died in Topsail, buried in what was the Methodist Churchyard. 

There is documentation to support the Butler family gave land for the first Methodist church there built in 1837. The original church was rebuilt in 1871, and then again in 1977 when it became the United Church. 

The imprint of the original Methodist church is still evident as a grassy patch, around which the oldest graves are located, including "my" Charles. 

Martin standing on the footprint of the original Methodist church in Topsail

Reverend Kathy Brett was there to greet me and show me the burial record. I showed her a letter one of her predecessors wrote in 1891, expressing, in rather purple prose, the extreme loss to the community invoked by my family's upcoming move to BC. I think maybe Minister Samuel Snowdon might have been laying it on a bit thick, as it was a four page epic of regretful good-byes. I hope he got over it.   

the tireless Rev. Kathy Brett of Topsail United Church

In the Anglican churchyard across the street I found the first husband of my own great-grandmother, Emma Winsor Butler Gibbeson (and later McCoskrie). His name was John Gibbeson, born in Newcastle upon Tyne, England, who somehow made his way to Newfoundland, where he died aged 32 in 1885, here in Topsail, only a few months after his infant son John died. I found both their graves, the tall one of the father and the tiny one for the son. 

Infant John on the left, adult John next to him 

But can you imagine a more delightful spot to have ones bones laid to rest? On top of a hill overlooking a sweep of ocean crackling rhythmically over the pebbly beach.  

We finished our visit with a lovely country walk, passing ancient stone walls, 

a little less ancient old barn, 

and a characteristic old house with an unusual roof. 

I looked to see if there was any sign of my family's old 19th century home, of which I only have a photo of a front porch and doorway. 

Nope, long since gone. Just like the family itself.

Time to hit the road. 

Daily Post

 I imagine this room has seen many things over it's 100+ years, a woman blogging her travels probably one of the most prosaic.