Since 21 May, after I got off the ferry at Port aux Basques, I had got used
to rain and sort of factored that and very windy conditions as part of the
routine to be faced. However, this morning when I stepped out of the Carriage
House Inn I had to shield my eyes from the bright Sun. In fact, this day was
the brightest it has been in Canada over the past three weeks. The clear
weather promoted the landscape in stunning hues. With the snow and ice having
vanished from the road and rain not a bother, the drive from Grandfalls-Windsor
to Port aux Basques was a beauty.
Michael
prepares the most delectable breakfast I have had on the journey, save the ones
my Aunt had served in Vancouver. He fries the eggs to perfection without even a
hint of it being overcooked. The toasts are done just the right amount, neither
limp nor stiff. Over breakfast I met an elderly lady from Edmonton who was on a
speaking tour to Grandfalls with her family. We exchanged notes about Canada
and how it was so different from its neighbour, USA. Family values, community
responsibility, and trust have overarching presence in the lives of Canadians.
Crass materialism has yet not become an overriding factor in public or private
lives in this country. Human rights and values are more important than economy
and capitalistic greed. Overall one can see a huge element of dignity and
respect for individuals, elders and community wherever one goes. The immigrants
who I have interacted with during the course of my expedition have mentioned,
almost sotto voice, that their decision to migrate to Canada was based on the
single most important factor of safety and a better future for their children.
Crime is virtually non-existent and children and elders are safe in
communities. Truly a model country in a world torn apart by hate, violence
and intolerance and it is an oasis of peace and happiness.
Rocky
Harbor, on the Western edge of Newfoundland, is at the entrance of Bonne Bay.
The location is too scenic to merit mere words. The eyes feasted on them till
it was time to get a move on. There is a small functional harbour too, by the
same name, meant only for light crafts. Colourful houses ringed the waters and
brightly painted boats lobbed gently in the waters. Just three km away from the
harbour is the Lobster Cove Head Lighthouse. A little gem tucked high above
that has been guiding fishermen and small vessels safely in and out of Bonne
Bay for more than a century.
The lighthouse is still functional and hence, the
access to the top of the lighthouse is restricted. It has small walkways around
the lighthouse and to the waterfront through thick vegetation. The lighthouse
houses a small museum telling the story of generations of Youngs’ and other
families who had been light keepers of the lighthouse. Those were the days
when, despite the windy cliff and hard days at work, gardens were maintained,
game was hunted and barter trading was done for essentials. The logs maintained
by the light keepers are stuff of legend – their concern for those at sea and
prayers that went out loud for those fighting foul weather. It was interesting
to learn how they communicated in the times when there were no radio messages.
The International Code of Signals conveyed it through a set of 39 flags that
stood for alphabets and numerals and some others that conveyed standard
nautical messages! A great time for seafarers, it must be understood. While at
the lighthouse I recalled Franklin D Roosevelt’s famous line, “A smooth sea
never made a skilled sailor”. He was, indeed, assisted by light keepers.
The
lovely views of the Table Mountain from the Eastern Arm of Bonne Bay, which is
part of the Long Range Mountains, is a major attraction in Rocky Harbor. That
salty water inlet is supposed to be a fjord. It was a dream location for a
couple of sandwiches and a hot cup of coffee. The pristine surroundings were
like a magnet. It kept me there longer than the time I could spare. Blue waters
lapping gently on the shores, snowy mountains reflecting from the waters of the
Bay that emptied into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, light breeze that wafted the
smell of meadow flowers and fresh grass was a heady concoction to be mesmerised
and lose track of that evil called Time. Paradisiacal, it may be described in
one word, was the experience.
It
was nearly another 300 km to the Port aux Basques from Rocky Harbor. It took me
under three hours to reach the vicinity of the ferry landing. After fuelling
and picking up a sandwich from Subway I drove to the ferry landing. It seemed
that the ferry had just then arrived from North Sydney as trucks and vehicles
were rushing to their destinations. I wondered if Zaheer Khan was among them,
on another of his trips from Montreal to St. John’s. In the backdrop of the
setting Sun I waited in the designated queue for boarding the MV Atlantic
Vision. I had some time to kill, which I did with documentation over a couple
of cans of Bacardi mixes. When boarding was announced I was in the right
spirits, so to say. I had parked the car in deck 3 and had to find seating on
one of the upper decks. On deck 7 I found a comfortable, could even say plush,
seat to rest the night. That area turned out to be the bar, which was busy till
the ferry started its journey at the appointed time. The seating in the area
was such that I could find continuous corner seating where I could stretch out
for a good sleep. I found that many others had the same intention.
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