Apsey Brook, and even Random Island aren’t/weren’t highly populated places, but we seemed to have an abundance of paths around. It always amazed me how long they lasted, with not a ton of traffic to keep them without becoming grown over and disappearing in the brush.
I’m sure that likely has happened more so back in Apsey Brook in recent years because there are even less people now than was once the case.
But still, memories return of paths. So many of them. There was one from the old road down by the old bridge and Uncle Luther’s mill all the way to Uncle Hay’s, and yes even further though less plain all the way down to Colin’s house across the old garden.
There was one around Ross’s fence the sheep used to take to get down to the beach area up to the old school garden area. There was one from Sam’s meeting the old road, and of course the old road itself that ran from over by Edgar Martin’s all the way to Petley! And of course off shoots everywhere, to get to all the ponds and berry patches along the way.
One from McGrath’s Cove to Friggin’s Cove Rattle, and likely beyond. Paths to the steadies and to the barrens where Dad would tail slips for rabbits.
I’m sure each community had the same, as over the fields and through the stands of trees, and over the bog holes we’d make our way.
Just another memory of home, and the freedom we had, and something that stays with me over time as I think about how they formed, and how they remain.
Raised in outport Newfoundland in a town of 65 people, I pursued a post secondary diploma in Information Technology right out of High School.
I’ve always been a geek at heart, but yet I love the rural life I grew up with. Fishing, hunting, camping and the great outdoors are still loves of mine, even if I don’t pursue them as often as I once did. Sports were always a big part of our lives, and I played many (badly) and loved them all.
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