Trailing Off

Walking north of the city, there are all sorts of trails that wind up and around and over and past Signal Hill, itself the top of a trail. North Head, Ladies Lookout, Sugarloaf, Quidi Vidi Lake. We did a little of each and a lot of some, and were rewarded with bracing winds and fabulous views.

First stop was the Battery. If anyone were to ask you why someone planned a series of gun emplacements in this place, then their either have never been here or are idiots. At the top of the hill overlooking this narrow entrance to St. John's harbour, one can see anything approaching from the Atlantic Ocean for miles, as well las the whole of the harbour. 

Cabot's tower at the top pf Signal Hill, with the Battery slightly lower and to the right

Not that it could have been much fun for the young men manning and living in this place, exposed to everything Mother Nature could fling at it. Today, the biting wind pushed us around and we stayed clear of the sheer cliffs. I can't imagine what it must have been like with added rain, sleet, fog and/or snow. And the chance of landslides, of which there have been a few.

It saw lots of action though, from 17th century raids right through the second World War.

At the top of Signal Hill there is a unique reminder of British influence. Almost a folly. It is known as Cabot Tower, commemorating the 400th anniversary of the John Cabot's landing on Newfoundland in 1497 as well as Queen Victoria's 60th year on the throne, 1897.

The hill was originally known by the prosaic name of The Lookout, and was changed to Signal Hill after successful flagmasting that finished the seven years war in Britain's favour over the French, but became synonymous with another kind of signalling (more about that later)

Ladies' lookout was to Cuckold's Cove, a rare harbour for fishers that was not at the bottom of sheer cliffs as everywhere else around here is.

Looking towards Cuckold's Cove from Ladies' Lookout (wonder where those names came from!)

Oddly enough, the only thing open was a gist shop in Cabot Tower and a chocolate cafe with toilets along the way, favoured by a large contigent of senior travelers in a bus.

Opting over beer over a long line for chocolate (for the first time EVER) we followed the path to Quidi Vidi, Suitably fortified we followed a short bit of  Sugarloaf trail, which promised a hair-raising 9 km of cliff hugging excitement, but as there was no way of returning from the endpoint and it was already 3pm, we decided to save the rest of that trail for another time.

Cobwebs blown, we felt ready for a cuppa instead.

 

A Blustery Day in Quidi Vidi

Cold and blustery today but dry, and the sun even came out at about 1pm. Perfect for blowing the cobwebs away with a good tramp by the Atlantic.

After about 3 hours of hiking up and down (more about that another time) we entered the village of Quidi Vidi, clustered along a racing river that empties into a very small, long, sheltered cove.

It's a funny name, and fun to say. Quidi Vidi. Quidi Vidi.

What does it mean? There have been a string of suggestions but no one really knows. Even what language it originated from is unknown. It's been spelled differently and pronounced differently ever since it was settled centuries ago.  

It's a tiny place, and there was not a lot of activity today. I suppose it is the day after a long weekend (hangover day?). It's also very early in the season and most things are still closed. Or perhaps it's because they don't have the staff. Anyway, it was very, very quiet.

But oh so charming. Here was Mallard Cottage, the oldest cottage in the province, built in the early 19th century by the Mallard family, not a pair of ducks, but Irish immigrants. Family-owned until the 1980s, it is now supposedly a delightful restaurant, but not for us. It was closed.

And here by a few fishing shacks on stilts over the water hugging the shore was a sign for fresh lobster. Nope, no lobster today. Just a few empty traps and the only boat we saw in the entire cove - in dry dock.

The lovely little Christ Church, is now a family home. The sketchy looking pub was bolted shut. The lovely looking inn had a locked door and curtains in the window blowing inside an empty room.

No doubt this place is hopping in the summer sunshine, with live music, and ice cream and motorcycles. 

Now the only thing hopping were a few birds, mallards actually. Still not the Mallards who built Mallard house, but the flapping kind. And these ones had discovered bins of discarded mash from the local brewery and gobbling greedily.

Aha - thank you mallards for showing us the way! Yes, there was one place that was open, the Quidi Vidi Brewery. And right beside it was a food truck dispensing the requisite cod bites and fish and chips. Lovely view, only a few others in this big place. Watching the birds eat old beer mash. And listening to the wind as it scudded on the water. Now that's our kind of quiet.

Late is Early

A long day of flying - up at 2:30am, 4.5 hours first flight, 3 hours waiting, 3 hours second flight - and here we are.

St. John apostrophe S. Cool, drizzly and friendly from the get-go.

But despite watching a full day's the sun rise and fall from an airplane, 9pm in Newfoundland is still only 4:30 in the afternoon Vancouver time. So out for a good stomp into downtown, raingear on, waterproof trainers afoot, along empty streets and Victorian faded grandeur.

Our first meal had to be special - the place had to speak to us. No TV sports, no pool tables, no frozen entrees and Molsons. 

Found it. 

Adelaide Oyster House where we had a dozen eastern beauties on the half shell - 6 Barnstable from New Brunswick and 6 Puffin Rock from Newfoundland, with local on-tap options, Quidi Vidi's Squeezebox IPA and Port Rexton's Vacation, both good and surprisingly (or not) fairly high in alcohol content.

And just like that, the holiday is on!

Journey From and To

We are travelling 7,000 kilometres away from home, and yet we will remain in the same country.

Newfoundland is closer to Europe than it is to Vancouver. This enormous island saw foreign visitors before anywhere else in North or South America, and yet parts of it remain remote and unexplored. Given about global pandemics, war and geopolitics, a trip to Newfoundland and Labrador offers a safe escape from the outside world and its daily worries, if only for a few weeks.

When Jenny's great-grandmother Emma Gibbson Butler (later McCoskrie) came to BC's west coast from Topsail, Newfoundland, she and her family were emigrating to another country. That was in 1891, when Newfoundland was an individual colony of Great Britain and not part of Canada for many decades to come.

In fact, Newfoundland was Britain's very first colony, formally claimed in 1583 by Sir Henry Gilbert. A colony without colonials, it remained unsettled until 1610. 

The whole Butler thing is very confusing, we know. Jenny was not born a Butler but married one. Martin is English-born, with no Newfoundland connection at all. 

Jenny's Butler family (that's them in the black and white photo on the top right, probably taken in the late 1880s), has long roots in Newfoundland, and exploring just how deep those roots are will be an added part of our journey. Another excuse to delve into local museums and archives! 

This year Newfoundland and Labrador's tourist authority is branding 2022 as "Come Home" year, encouraging Newfoundlanders and Labradorians to return for a holiday. Perhaps they left to find work in other provinces or countries. Perhaps they were not able to visit due to COVID-19 pandemic restrictions. Or perhaps they never actually came from there in the first place, but rather "come from away", and feel the desire to "come home" more than a century later to celebrate generations of family that called it home for decades and centuries.