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The Old Outhouse

All that remains of Uncle Hay’s old outhouse. Thanks Eric Cooper

Last night the rain was coming down, making a soothing noise, but reminding me of many cabin trips where we’d have to brave the rain to use the facilities. For some reason I was also reminded of The Red Green Show, and the poems Red used to recite. I came up with my own poetic masterpiece to suit my mood….

It is raining.

An April rain, chilling and cold. Making a half frozen slush to shuffle through for a midnight outhouse run, where it plays a tap dance on the tin roof, then drips down the back of your neck.

It is raining.

You think I’ll have to turn down offers? In any event, the old outhouse was an integral part of growing up, and while many were rough and ready, especially those built for cabins in the woods, those people had for their living areas were surprisingly more than you’d expect, and as much as it can be, a pleasure to use. Back home, “down on the land”, Uncle Hay had and kept up an outhouse out the path from his house. It was a bit of a trek if you were short taken I’m sure, but as kids sometimes when you had to go, you had to go. This outhouse was, for the genre, beautiful in my eyes. It was well walled, well painted, had a window, and well maintained roof, and Uncle Hay kept a nice supply of toilet paper out there.

What made it even better was that he, or perhaps it was Brad and Paul, I’m not really sure, kept a supply of comics and reading material out there. More time than necessary was spent in there keeping up with Archie and Jughead! In any event, I have fond memories of that old commode, and while its an odd topic to write about I guess, its a part of home that brings back fond memories.

Peter Smith

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.

April 6, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 2

We don’t want no stinkin Kool-Aid!

No way siree bob! Back when we were kids, we didn’t get no fancy schmancy kool-aid! We had freshie and we liked it! I still remember the little packages stacked in their boxes on the shelf at the CO-OP in Clarenville. I’m sure the flavours had names too, but no one called freshie by its flavour name. You had red freshie, or purple freshie, or orange or green. I also remember Mom had these little Tupperware popsicle things, and we’d pour the freshie in those and have our own popsicles. Tasted so much like a Mr. Freeze!

I’m not sure why it was the drink of choice for us, I assume it was likely cheaper, and maybe promoted a little more locally as I’ve since found out it was a Canadian product.

Tang

Thinking back on drinks, we also had the legendary Tang. I remember reading that tang was developed for the space program, but I’m not sure how true that is. What you may not remember though is that Tang also came in other flavours Yes we had grape and red tang back in the day. (Red is so a flavour! Stop arguing!)

Anyway a brief memory from today when someone mentioned something was tangy! Anyone remember any other little things like this that bring back memories?

Peter Smith

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.

April 3, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 4

Cleaving Splits

Its a wet and windy start to April here, not April showers, but more like April falling sideways cold needles. Makes me want to hunker down with a nice wood fire. I wrote before about the old wood stove, and how it was such a cosy part of home. Well today I’m reminded of getting the thing lit, while we were bivvering with the cold, especially if it was a fire at the cabin.

Slabs stacked for winter. (Eric Cooper Picture)

To start a fire of course you need gas… um I mean you need kindling. To us Newfoundlanders tho kindling is a foreign word, what you really need is splits. Part of the evening chores of bringing in a wood box of wood, also included filling a split box full of splits. What are splits? Well they are slabs that have been cleaved on a chopping block. And what are slabs you may ask? Well slabs are the sides of wood left over from when a log has been sawed into lumber at a mill. We’d buy them by the pickup load from the local mill if you didn’t have a mill of your own, and they’d be used as part of your winter wood supply, great for getting a bit of heat in a hurry.

Everyone had a big old log or stump in their woodhouse to cleave slabs, or split wood on. We’d lay a slab down on it, or perhaps prop it up against it and chop an axe down through till we had some splits about an inch or two wide with nice jaggly edges to catch easily when put in the stove with some old newspaper or catalog pages.

Also unfortunately, many a foot or hand has been cut with someone being a little too careless with the old axe, luckily I never was, tho I did catch the toe of my steel nosed boot once.

Anyway on a April sideways wet needle rain kinda day, a load of slabs keeping a wood fire going would be a welcome way to warm my cold feet.

Peter Smith

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.

April 1, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 2

Good Friday Trouting

Growing up back home, one of the Easter traditions was a Good Friday trouting trip. These were sometimes a walk in the woods in back of home, or sometimes a trip in car to a roadside pond, but were often a whole family event.

The great thing about the whole trip was that you never knew from year to year what “kind” of trouting you were doing! Lots of Easter weekends it would be ice fishing, and on others you’d be fishing with a rod and reel on the shore of a completely ice free pond.

Of course one of the other memories of those days was the fact that it may not have been a rod and reel you saw people using. A lot of people used a bamboo pole. I’ve never actually tried it, and really haven’t seen it done in years, so now, thinking back on it, I’m a little puzzled on how people actually pulled a fish in. I assume once the hooked it, they had to pull the line in hand over hand!

The picture on the left wasn’t a Good Friday trip (at least I don’t think it was). It was taken I believe in 1969 (making me 4 at the time) when all of my Dad’s siblings except one (Herven) had gathered together for the first time in years, and the last time too as I know I never saw Aunt Mae again. I only have faint memories of it, but the whole family and some Aunt’s and Uncles made our way into Friggin’s (Fagan’s) Cove Pond for a family trip, so it reminds me somewhat of Good Friday fishing.

I’m not sure if the Good Friday trouting trips are as much of a tradition now as they were, I know as I got older, I always liked to go, but it became more with friends than family, but I guess that’s part of growing up.

Fishing isn’t the same in Nova Scotia for me, I don’t know where to go, and there are too many fish types to catch, and not know what to do with. Back home we had trout and that was about it. Still though, I think when Hayley gets a bit older, I may see if she’d like to go on a fishing trip.

Happy Easter everyone.

Peter Smith

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.

March 29, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 6

Sports Day at Vardyville

Spring is coming (please please please, I’m begging!) and while its still early, it brings back to mind Sports Day at Random Island school. Back for the first few years when we went there, every year we’d have a sports day, with races, discus, shot put, and the like. There’d be ribbons, and prizes, and a great time.

The highlight of this was that it was held, at least early in the school’s history at Vardyville Park, also known as Reub’s Farm. To the best of my knowledge, and I can only go from memory of conversations, Reuban Vardy had a farm on this land, which was just over the Britannia road from Hickman’s Harbour. In my day, it was a private park with a store/take out and pinball machine, and a rudimentary ball field (at least I think there was a ball field). I remember fries and hotdogs and snacks throughout the day.

Events tend to run together over the years, and these sports days were in the mid 70’s after all, but I do recall the pinball machine. It cost 10 cents and I’d play what felt like for hours, but of course it wasn’t because I also remember spending a ton of time outside, racing, throwing shot put, and participating (badly) in whatever events we had. And of course, watching Randy Baker and I think Shawn Avery playing stretch with every school boy’s crush, Miss Sargeant.

I’m not sure what became of the park, but in any event, it was a beautiful spot of land, with the rattle in the background, and we as kids had a great time there every year while it was still the host site, and it holds a special memory of my youth.

UPDATE: Added a couple pictures scanned from yearbook.

Peter Smith

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.

March 25, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 13

Rovin to the Dunrovin

A few years before I moved away from Newfoundland, I took what for me was a memorable trip on ATV. I’m sure for many it wasn’t so special, but I was working in St. John’s and didn’t get to make as many longer excursions as I would have liked.

Anyway, this one weekend, at some unknown or at least not remembered prompting, Elvis Cooper and I decided to head to his cabin, which was in behind Burgoyne’s Cove, several miles in the road. It was winter however, and this wasn’t a maintained road, so we couldn’t go by car, which was a big part of the reason for going!

We drove the ATV and Elvis’ Skidoo over the road and ditches to Elliotts’s Cove, and filled up our tanks and some extra gas cans. Then we drove across Random Sound on the ice and got on the old railway bed. We made a little detour to Shoal Harbour as Elvis needed some skidoo part, but then we drove the railway bed down the Bonavista Peninsula till it hooked up with the private road on that side, near Lethbridge, then drove several more miles in that old road to the cabin. According to Google Maps, its about 43 km just from home to Burgoyne’s Cove, not counting the convoluted way we went, so I’m sure we added on nearly as much again if not more.

When we got there, his mother, Joyce, had been there for a day or two, and had a big turkey cooked, which we devoured. After supper we all got on our machines and drove back out that road to the Dunrovin Motel to a dance, and a few drinks. Later that night we all made our way back to the cabin to sleep, and made our way home the next day.

In some ways it was nothing special, but in more, such a long ATV trip, to a quiet cabin with a feed and friends was awesome. A memory I’ll always look back fondly on.

Peter Smith

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.

March 22, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 1

Damn you Sheila!

It seems every year, right around St. Patrick’s Day, we have one last blast (well we can hope its the last anyway) of winter. This year is no exception with a snowfall warning for tonight. Growing up, and likely still, people called this storm Sheila’s Brush.

I’m sure there are many variations on the legend of Sheila, but the one that stuck with me is that she was Paddy’s wife, and tired of his drunken partying on his namesake day, gets her brush and cleans up after him, stirring up a storm of bad weather for those mere mortals like us.

In any event, after all these years I wish the two of them would learn to get along, I’m sick of winter already! Stay warm everyone, and if necessary, make like Paddy and have a sip of Bushmills :).

Peter Smith

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.

March 19, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 0

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
a full moon on a dark night,
and the road downhill all the way to your door.

Peter Smith

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.

March 17, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 0

Up, Down, Out, Over the road

It may be prevalent elsewhere, but one thing Newfoundlander’s know is that distance isn’t measured in miles or kilometers, its measured in time. How far to St. John’s? 2 hours. Gander? Hour and a half. If you don’t do it in those times, then you’re obviously driving too slow.

One other thing we have is how we point out communities and locations on the way. Back home, Apsey Brook was at the end of the road, so we of course had to go “up” the road to go anywhere, and everyone knew coming from that direction you were coming up. A confusing side effect of this was that Snook’s Harbour meets at the bottom of three hills or grades, and so that portion is of course named “bottom”. It was always amusing to see CFAs (come from aways) confusion when we said we were going up to bottom. Of course, since the road took a 90 degree turn there, we had to go “over” to Elliott’s Cove.

Going to school was down to Hickman’s, and if we went shopping we went up to Clarenville. It all makes perfect sense, no? Then again we also had to deal with going out the arm, out the sound, in to town, and so on and so on. Yet we all knew which was which, and if someone got it backwards (like maybe me now, is it out to town? or in? I keep forgetting?) god help them for the fun making about to be heaped on them.

Anyway, was always fun to head up to bottom and play ball, and then run over to the store to get a snack. If you get a chance, pick me up something while you’re over :).

Peter Smith

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.

March 12, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 0

The Swizzle

Back not so long ago, after I was technically “grown up” (yeah right, as if that’ll ever happen), my buddy Bernard had a Sega Genesis. Like a lot of things in rural Newfoundland of the like, it didn’t necessarily have a steady place in any home though, as it was always borrowed by somebody, lots of times that somebody being me.

My favorite game on it was called Landstalker, an RPG that I played for hours, and cursed the zone known as Greenmaze over and over. This was before the internet, and figuring out how to play and finish the game was done all by yourself or with friends.

But the best memories of playing the Genesis were over at my cousin and friend Derek’s house. We’d have it hooked up to the old floor model TV, and a group of us would take turns playing PGA European Tour Golf. Usually it was Derek, Eric, Cory Avery and I, and we’d play for hours. But the thing I remember most, other than Derek tilting the controller trying to make the ball turn, is Cory’s exclamations. “Look at him swizzle that one in there!”, “Watch me swizzle this one boys!”. It became part of our vocabulary (reminds me, will have to tell you about the word “git” sometime) from then on, anytime we’d try to make something work, or fit, or really even go somewhere, we were swizzling it.

Would be fun to have it hooked up now and share a beer with the boys and try to swizzle a few shots in!

Peter Smith

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.

March 9, 2013 by Peter Smith Uncategorized 1

The Old Outhouse

We don’t want no stinkin Kool-Aid!

Cleaving Splits

Good Friday Trouting

Sports Day at Vardyville

Rovin to the Dunrovin

Damn you Sheila!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Up, Down, Out, Over the road

The Swizzle

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