About Me

Thursday 29 August 2013

ARRIVAL

Arriving by Sea or Land : Part 1....

On arriving in Newfoundland on the Southwest side, the first humans here did not come here by planes, so they either came hear by sea in small shallop boats and walked, or used dog sleds to cross in winter on area such as Northern Peninsula. That leaves two possible ways people arrived regarding this area of the Island Bay St.George, Western Newfoundland.

Bay St. George the third largest bay in North America, is defined by its banks that are eroding from warbling waves bulging by the great Atlantic ocean and mountain ranges extending as far as the eye can see, battered by prevailing winds, separated from the basin, in an early setting by the entrance to the harbor. In the far East Steel Mountain rises, highlighted by the beaches on the foot of the bay, the Main Gut and surrounding area.

In 1970 I sailed with Upper Lake Shipping Company in Ontario and stood in the wheelhouse on one of their ships of Ontario Power, to dock at Turf Point for a load of gypsum in St.Georges before sailing to our neighboring country, USA.

Before entering on the north side of Sandy Point, noted in history to be the oldest settlement in Bay St. George, I could see to the South East extended valleys and water-ways of those great river systems, and trails placed there by natural landsides , showing us direction of the ice retreated from glacial movement, that took parts of the earth out to sea, and could see on all corners of the bay from the wheelhouse.

To the southwest, rolling mountain ranges, peaks 3000 thousand feet above sea level, the forest battered by prevailing winds 130 kl per.hr, passing places like Wreck House, before entering the Port au Basque area, where many ships ,like the William Carson, docked at one time before it’s departure to North Sidney, NS.

Beyond to the most northwest end entering the bay, the tip of the ancient Cape St. George, Port Au Port peninsula and rigged layers of shale, some miles of cliff bedding to the north end.

To the North, Loyola’s Hills, mid summer still snow capped before entering Corner Brook country and countless mounds shifted by glacial movement billions of years ago.

I then imagined on to the great Northern Peninsula,separating Labrador southern shores and define a crossing by canoe and dog team in winter on the land of the forgotten.

This Island once was attached to the massive land areas of Labrador, approximately 112,000 square miles, where Indians piloted, at ease, crossed the trails that were already there and now by natural waterways, in the land called New Found Land. The sea that separates this land was connected for caribou herds/people that migrate and live along banks of the great rivers that flow too the ocean.

But those waterways were there and their harsh velds that led people to the interiors, to an unknown land call the Rock, yet they worked and then stayed at their destiny, on the greatest Island known in history of today.

Now at the entrance, miles of untouched beaches, "Little Florida" I called it, but the climate much cooler in winter averaging 20 degrees below freezing.

In summer it's glorious picture plant, I yearn to hold, (after being away for some months), holding fresh secret water that symbolizes life in the natural world and animals to nourish this unknown kingdom, tempter’s reaching 80 degrees in the height of the season.

The forest looked like billions of ants resting upon stone.

The homes near the Gypsum Dock, at Seal Rocks, shaded beneath the sand doom ledges, and TCH passed through. This area lay an end to history's longest trail, known to this land, when Cormack crossed the Island in 1822 and rested there with his two Mi’kmaq guides, before departing to Sandy Point, that no longer exists....

Centuries before, this bay was sailed by many ships/people and they anchored to seek refuge to this part of the Island and called it their home....

Now docking at one of the older settlements, I could feel the fresh scent of mother earth entering my nostrils and a breeze of air gently blowing through my hair, that’s freedom at its best....

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