Troutin’ with da byes

Brook in Head of Bay D’Espoir

I’m not sure what year it was, or even many of the details now, but one summer many moons ago, there were tales of huge sea-trout coming up the brooks and rivers of southern Newfoundland.

Always up for trouting, and also for a chance to explore more of our great province, Eric and I decided to go have a look and see what we could find.  Another one of the gang, not necessarily a usual suspect in all our schemes, but a gang member all the same, Cory Avery took the trip with us.

We got up one morning, packed up our tackle and gear, and headed west out the highway, and then out around Bishop’s Falls, took the Bay D’Espoir highway south, driving down past Conne River and seeing places and sights that were all new to us.

This part of the province is pretty remote, but beautiful beyond belief, with gorgeous coves, beautiful ocean and beaches and rivers.

We really had no idea where to go, and I’m not really sure that mattered, but we made our way to Head of Bay D’Espoir and found some promising looking bridges and brooks, and tried our luck.

Unfortunately, no trout were to be had that day, but we did explore and see a lot, including a trip in what I believe was a power utility road to a lake that was dammed for power.   In there we also tried our luck, but again no trout.  Eric (I think it was Eric) did hook and bring ashore a ouananiche (landlocked salmon).

We farted around a bit more down in this area, and then packed up and made our way back home.  The packing up though will be something I’ll always remember, because I broke the tip off my prized rod closing the trunk.  I’m sure it was nothing fancy, but it was one I got during the closing sale of the old Chain Store, and I loved it, best rod I ever had.

Anyway, another story and trip to remember for a lifetime :).

August 23, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Wiener Roasts and Fireworks

Its the lazy days of summer now, evenings are starting to close in a little earlier, nights are a little chiller, perfect for sleeping, and for fires on the beach. In our teens, and likely much beyond back home these evenings often led to a bonfire on the beach, or sometimes just a smaller fire. We’d gather round some big rocks to sit on, skin out an alder or birch branch or three, and relax and tell lies as we roasted marshmallows and wieners on a stick.

I’ve not had a wiener roasted over a fire, or a toasted marshmallow in years, but I can taste them now, but I think what was even better was a potato, rolled on to the coals to roast, then pulled out, burning our fingers in the process, and drenching it in butter and too much salt and pepper as we scooped it out, often with our fingers, or a stick shaped into a fork or spoon.

Another thing we used to do, back in the days when we we’re less green, or a lot more stupid, you pick your choice, was a bit more dangerous, but in its way a lot of fun.  Years ago, many people had heavy lead or other metal pipes in their houses and outbuildings for drainage.  These pipes were pretty thick as well, and often there was a lot of this around as scrap.  Well we had a piece about yay long (imagine me stretching my arms out :P).  We had it balanced against something, perhaps nothing more than a forked branch, I forget, angled out over Snook’s Harbour. The other end was pressed down into our usual fire pit, with the end underground.

Well we’d gather up spray cans that were nearly empty, bags and bags of them sometimes, and light our fire.  Once it was going good, we’d drop the cans into the pipe like a mortar and run off a little and watch.  Of course once they heated, they’d explode and shoot off over the harbour like a shot, making a huge bang.  What was best was shaving cream cans as they’d trail white foam as they shot off, or WD-40 cans as they’d go off like a flare!

Of course times have changed, and we’ve gotten smarter as well as older, and realize this hazardous not only to ourselves, but bad for the environment.  But sometimes there’s something to be said for being young and stupid too.

August 18, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Alliterative Camping

From what I can find out, on August 4th, 1995, Bon Jovi played in Grand Falls, Newfoundland.  It apparently wasn’t a Salmon Festival concert, but in any event, Eric and I attended and made it the starting point for a cross Newfoundland camping trip that I encourage everyone to try sometime.

We made our way to Grand Falls/Windsor arriving sometime that morning, and scoping out where to park, and the campsite locations.  We set up our tent, got everything straightened away and headed to the all day concert.  I forget who all the opeining acts were, but I do remember Ray Lyle and the Storm being one of them, singing their hit Another Man’s Gun. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w8q40IsrUI

Bon Jovi took the stage later on, and at first a lot of didn’t realize it was them as they opened with two Neil Young songs, the first, if I recall correctly, being Keep on Rocking in the Free World.  I will always remember one of the funniest things I have ever seen was Roger Avery, being pretty drunk, wandering around the field, with his back arched, hat askew, looking for all the world like Bernie from Weekend at Bernies.  I have to admit to being a little paniced once the concert was over as well, I could not find Eric anywhere, and I was designated driver, had no idea where he had gotten to.  Someone, I think Julie, told me she had seen him get on the shuttle bus to the campground, so I had no choice but to head back there.  Of course that area was full of a large portion of the 25000 concert goers and I had no luck finding him that night. After getting a couple hours sleep, I got up and started to see about what to do with my day and figured I’d look again for Eric, not holding out a lot of hope, as it was still relatively early.  Walking down the road, what do I see coming up the road, but him, beer bottle in hand, after having crashed somewhere.  From there, we got some breakfast and packed up, and started on the next leg of our trip.

We drove nearly across the island that day, and took the Burgeo highway down to the town of Burgeo.  Apparently there was a big caribou herd out that way, and few moose.  Of course you can guess from that which we saw and didn’t see.  In Burgeo or nearby is Sandbanks Provincial Park, a hidden treasure of golden long beaches, with warm water hidden in our cold north Atlantic.  If you’ve never been, I really recommend it!  We stayed two nights there I think it was, enjoying the beautiful scenery.  The island of Ramea is nearby as well, and I would love to have been able to make a trip over there as well.  Unfortunately, as with much of my days those days, I was short of cash, and relied a lot on Eric, so a lot of things I’d like to have done didn’t get done.


We drove from Burgeo to Stephenville, and from there out to the Port Au Port peninsula, where we saw many interesting things.  Such as a beef bucket used as a mail box.  We set up camp for that one night, with original plans for more at Piccadilly Provincial Park.  For whatever reason, after 18 years I’ve forgotten why, whether too many flies, or just a general mutual dislike of the place, Eric and I both decided first thing the following morning to “get the hell out of here”! On the way, we debated on a way to blow up the isthmus and set the peninsula adrift, but we were, alas, short of explosives.

Now for those that don’t know, these jaunts weren’t like an hours drive at a time or anything, we were looking at all day’s driving, and this day was as much so or more.  We drove from Stephenville to Deer Lake and made our way up the Great Northern Peninsula, with a few photo stops, such as the beautiful arches.  I can’t recall for sure if it was on the way up, or back, but we also made a trip out to Roddickton, and also caught the Labrador Ferry from St. Barbe to Blanc Sablon, taking our picture with the welcome to Quebec sign, (tho not sure where that photo is) and making sure to call Lindy Smith collect (of course) before catching the return ferry.

That leg of our trip prompted Eric to write, as best I know, on the spur of the moment, “Poor Peter, pretty pissed with perverted people in Piccadilly Provincial Park on port au port peninsula picked a pleasant passage to Pistolet Bay provincial park passing parsons pond and plum point pretty promptly!”

We stayed that night in Pistolet Bay, and perhaps another I forget, but exploring St. Anthony a little, and visiting Griquet and Cape Onion.  The morning of our departure, we both decided it was time to return home, and we got packed up, and drove from near St. Anthony all the way back home to Random Island, a distance of if I remember correctly over 1200 kilometers in one day.

While broke, and unable to enjoy as much as I’d like, it was an amazing trip, and a great opportunity to see much of the whole province.  Some say I’d like to add a few of the missing places to my itinerary and do the Gander Bay Loop and the Irish Loop on the Avalon Peninsula.

August 10, 2013 by Uncategorized 6

The Cable Trail

2013-02-07 15.54.59Back in 1955, the trans-atlantic telephone cable came ashore in Clarenville.  I’m not sure if the old cable station is still there on Cormack Drive or not, or if the cable is still used anymore, but I have to imagine it was a big event back in the day.

What many don’t know though is that the cable, or another related one actually cross Random Island between Snook’s Harbour and Elliott’s Cove and coincidentally (or not) near the brickyards in each, and the trail can still be seen reasonably clearly even now, and it is even more obvious from the satellite images on Google.

I’ve always meant to walk across the trail from one side of the island to the other, but never ever did get to it.  It was quite a wide path last time I was there, though there’s a good chance its torn up by atv’s and skidders now.

I don’t know if anyone reading this is old enough to remember the cable being laid, but if so would love to hear from you, its an interesting part of the history of the island that few know, or now, even know of!

One last link about it, and some other local history.

August 6, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

SummerBlast 95

Prologue

Like most people of my generation, house parties were a normal thing to attend, but I’d never held one, mostly because my folks were pretty stay at home, and didn’t go out a lot for extended times for me to actually have a location. There was always a crowd at my house, people liked my mom and dad, and the feeling was mutual, but never a party per se.

When my sister graduated high school, she moved to Halifax to study.  Much younger than me, she was the apple of all our eyes and of course we missed her like crazy.  In the summer of 1995, Mom, Dad, and Keith made their first ever trip outside the province, and took a vacation in Halifax to visit her.

And so it began…

Prelude

SummerBlast 95 Sign

The Promo Sign

I believe it was a Satrurday (Though maybe it was Friday?) morning in August, I was on vacation from my job at the Radisson/Delta, when I drove the family to the airport in St. John’s to see them off on their trip.  I got back to Random Island about noonish, and what did I see at the turn off in Elliott’s Cove?  Well the sign on the left of course, created by the culprits pictured.

I quickly removed it, a little paranoid that the police might see it, and I didn’t want to give them any reason to come over to our little deserted part of the world.  I may have been a little prophetic in that regard, because around supper time that evening a fire started at the dump, and while I’m not sure, I think police were called down over the island to it.

In the meantime, I tidied up the house some, and at some point picked up Bernard, and some beer and headed back to the house to wait.  and wait. and wait.  I was expecting a few people to show up early, but it was more like a few batches.  I think around 8pm we got the first wave, and then….. it became legend.

The Party

Nothing to see here, move along.

Nothing to see here, move along.

I was only expecting maybe 20 or so people, the close group that always hung together, and they were amongst the first to show up.  Full of devilment as always with our group, ideas sprang to mind.  On the right you’ll see an outline of, I believe, Kendall Pitcher, as at a crime scene, with a squirt of ketchup for effect.  Then Steven Patey rode his trike up to it flat out, and slammed on his brakes to make some skid marks.

That was an indication of the kind of night it was going to be.

Bernard wearing mom's .... whatever it is

Bernard wearing mom’s …. whatever it is

Luckily we had a fairly big house, with a finished or semi-finished basement, and that it was also a beautiful night.  Why? Well at one point Bernard and I counted over 100 people there we knew, and there were more we didn’t!  What was awesome about the whole thing was that it never got out of hand, there were no fights, and nothing was broken.  Well except one plastic stool that someone sat on.  I’m looking at you Jim Bailey.  But there were good times galore, people got into everything, not maliciously, but in fun.  As you can see here, Bernard decided to try on one of mom’s…. whatever it is.

Some highlights:

  • Julie and Lorrie decided that mom’s salt and pepper shakers should go in the trees because, well they were shaped like owls and owls belong in trees.
  • Barry decided he was going to claim a place to sleep, so he put a sign on one of the beds.  Of course, god knows where he slept because that became the only bed that didn’t get used!
  • Kendall passed out in the bathroom, we had to drag him out by the ankles, I think he slept in the hallway all night.
  • A married man, who I will leave nameless, was frightened to death his wife was going to see pictures of girls sitting on his lap, which was why, of course, they did it in the first place!  I believe it may have been Naomi who instigated that, but I could be wrong.
  • Craig Baker came up stairs and told me there was a weasel in the basement!  Well that turned out to be a nickname we had for someone, who I’ll also leave nameless.  But was quite funny as I expected that person to be one to complain about the party rather than show up!

Things finally started winding down around 2 am I believe, with if I remember correctly, 18 people sleeping or passed out in the house, plus I think Jim Marsh sleeping in his truck outside.  Things get muddled after 18 years, but I think it was Randy Baker I found asleep in the stairs, that couldn’t have been comfortable. I was told at one point cars were lining the road from Roy Smith’s house to Uncle Hay’s house on both sides of the road, a distance of likely a kilometer.

Epilogue

Well with varying degrees of success we got up the next morning and got our day started.  Luckily my friends were and are good friends, and many if not all of those 18 people were up mopping floors, picking up bottles and garbage, cleaning and washing dishes.  Of course some devilment had to be had, so Eric put the teaspoons in the Random Island shaped souvenir spoon rack Dad had made, and put those in the cupboard with the forks and knives.  The plates of course, went in the cutlery drawers.  And as happenstance would have it, a few hours after everything was cleaned, the well went dry!

As I said nothing was broken other than that one stool, but for months afterwards, one of Dad’s pairs of pajamas were missing.  For some reason, some one had hung these up in the closet on a hanger under something else!

The party itself took on a legendary status with people I didn’t know, mentioning to me that they had heard about it.  I remember one time especially the worker at the driving range in Clarenville telling me about it!

In total I gathered 30 dozen beer bottles from around the house, as well as 15 liquor bottles.  God knows how many were never found thrown through the woods or in Alice’s garden, or how many were taken with the people when they left.  I’m glad I found that many though, as I was broke, and I used the cash from those bottles to pay Anthony Avery to steam clean the carpets for me! Yes, there was a little mess 🙂

I’d love for anyone who was there to share there memories in the comments as I’m sure I’ve forgotten lots of things!

August 1, 2013 by Uncategorized 9

Going nuts!

Beaked Hazelnut

Near Andy Marshall’s house, by Apsey Brook before Hurricane Igor pretty much wiped out the brook area, there were a few beaked hazelnut trees. We didn’t really gather them for anything, but come late summer, when their spiny husk started to dry and the brown of the shell started to show through the husk, we’d always like to go get a few for a treat.

Across the road from Random Island Academy there was also a field that we used for sports and activities, at least until the brook shifted and washed a lot of the field away.  There were many many of these trees there near the brook as well, and early in the school year we’d often go across at recess and lunch to get some.  But to be fair we mostly threw them at each other then rather than eating them.

They were much more abundant before the great squirrel invasion.  For those that don’t know, or are too young to remember, squirrels aren’t native to Newfoundland, and are only a recent comer.  I don’t think I ever saw one before my teens, maybe later.  Wikipedia says they were introduced in 1963, but if so it took a while before they became the overpopulated nuisance they are now.  In any event, most of these wild nuts seem to be consumed by them before we ever got a chance to get any.

Would make ya go nuts wouldn’t it?

July 30, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

The Pop Shoppe

Over the weekend, my buddy Bernard and I were discussing a memory of growing up in pretty much anywhere in small town Canada. For people of my generation, a trip to The Pop Shoppe was a fun and regular occurrence.  Unlike traditional pop, and before the time of so many store brand pops, there was The Pop Shoppe.

The Pop Shoppe back home, was, at least the only occasion I remember, down on Memorial Drive in Clarenville, just about right across from the medical center.  There was a hair salon in the same building in later years.

They operated on an interesting business model, franchising stores to people, and selling their own product in refillable, returnable glass bottles.  You’d get your product in cases of 24 and once done you’d return your bottles and get your deposit back or put towards your new case.

What was best about it though for the kid in me, was the assortment of flavors.  There were the usual copy cat ones, Cola, Lime Rickey, Root Beer, Sparkle Up, but by far the best, and maybe the best pop ever was Black Cherry.

Stubby Beer Bottle

Atlantic Superstore here used to sell a store brand black cherry flavor, but its no longer available, and while The Pop Shoppe has been reincarnated, I don’t see it for sale in any local locations, but man was Black Cherry ever good!

Another unique feature of The Pop Shoppe were the stubby bottles, like the old stubbies we used to get beer in back in Newfoundland, except clear and with The Pop Shoppe branding painted directly onto the glass.

Once the local one closed up, I still had some bottle laying around and for a time reused them to make Hire’s Root Beer from the little bottles you could buy at the co-op and Mercer’s.  Though I think as many of those exploded as were consumed, but that too was a great pop, and Hire’s, in my mind, while it and Crush were still independent was the best root beer I ever drank.

July 29, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

Bakeapple Led

Back home, when someone went astray, or got disoriented, the old folks would say they were fairy led. As in led astray by the fairies.  Well there were no fairies involved in this story, but we were definitely astray!

Bakeapples, or as they are known in some parts, cloud berries, are a favorite back home.  They are very sweet, with a sticky consistency, that’s great for jams and to top other things with.  Mom has been known to make a bakeapple tart in the same manner as people make partridge berry tarts.

I was never a big fan of them myself, I do like them, but find them overwhelmingly sweet, and don’t want a lot of them.  But for some reason, one summer, around the same time as now, prior to me moving away to Nova Scotia, Bernard and I decided to go bakeapple picking.

On the upper end of Random Island, there is a big big barren where bakeapples grow.  One thing about bakeapples though is that they grow one berry per plant, nearly on the ground, and the plants are often 6 inches to several feet apart.  We went through the woods at the tv tower, and walked through the short bit of woods till we got in on the barren.  We then walked till we found some berries and got down to picking.

The big issue though is that once you’re in the middle of a barren, with your head down, when you look up all the directions look pretty much the same.  We picked and picked till we were both tired and later evening was coming on, and then decided to make our way out of the woods.  Well of course when we looked up, nothing looked much different than anything else.  Luckily the barren was up on a rise, and we could see water, but unluckily, Random Island is an island, and water was visible in many directions.  Also unfortunately trees blocked some of the view, so we could only see water in the distance, and not see the bar bridge.

Well there was nothing for it, but to pick a direction and start walking and so we did, for what seemed like hours till we got to the edge of the barren and found a path.  We decided to follow it, with no better plan, and it shortly intersected with a much larger path, which turned out to be the road that someone whose name now escapes me had at the upper edge of the island for their mill.

We finally made it back to the road, and started our hike back to the car which was about 2 or 3 miles back at the old tv tower.  Not much traffic on the island, so we were resigned to walking the whole way, when finally a car came by, and who did it turn out to be?  Dad and Mom!  So of course the picked us up and carried us back to the car, from where we finally made our way home after being …… bakeapple led.

July 25, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Playing with your food

For some reason a discussion of yogurt in food reminded me of this old staple, fussel’s cream!  While I loved fresh cream, I can’t say I cared for this back in the day, but maybe I would now. Only problem is I’m not even sure it exists anymore!

But Sunday evening’s supper wasn’t complete for Dad without something sweet, with some cream on top.

Going off on a tangent here, another thing I only recently noticed or paid attention to, after so many years away, is that we Newfoundlanders are the only ones I’ve encountered that call “canned” products “tinned”.  I mentioned at work one day that I had a tin of Pepsi, and they looked at me like I was nuts (well they do that anyway, but this time it was for the tin).

Back on topic, and in relation to the title, there was one aspect of this cream that I did like, that was playing with it to thicken the cream.  I guess over time the cream started to separate, and my “job” was to shake it to help thicken it.  Of course my ideas of shaking may have been rolling it on the floor, using it as a puck in a game of knee floor hockey, and I may even have shaken it occasionally!

Anyway, another memory I thought I’d share, now to go find some partridge berry tart and cream!

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July 22, 2013 by Uncategorized 4

But it’s not Monday!

Sunday mornings I usually get up and do my laundry, and of course today being Sunday, I did so today.  It was a little easier than using the old wringer washer though.  I just put it in, and turned it on, and then later threw it in the dryer.

But I can remember Mom using one very similar to this, putting the powdered detergent in, not  the fancy schmancy liquid stuff like today.  Also adding bleach, and using clothes blue in those little blue cubes.  Who remembers that?!

Back then the old folks for some reason had certain days to do things, and if you didn’t follow the routine, it was a source of something to talk about.  I guess gossip helped pass the time then as much as it still does now!  I remember Monday’s were laundry days, and if you did some on another day, why, that was big news!  I can recall even now my Aunt Mary saying to me when I went down for a visit “My garr, your mothers got clothes on the line again today, how much does she wash at all!”

I guess for the older folks, in some cases routine was necessary, and useful for planning, and the more modern times of the late 60’s and 70’s were a bit much to handle :). We all know that the level of cleanliness has continually improved over the years, as we understand more about our health and disease.  Back in earlier days a bath once a week was a lot, let alone the daily or more showers of today, so likely clothes were changed less too!

But laundry then was also a big production, wheeling out the machine, hooking the hose to the sink, filling it with water.  Prescrubbing the really dirty items with the old scrubbing board in the tin wash tub, then putting it in the machine and letting it agitate for however long, then taking the clothes out and running it through the wringer, being careful not to lose an arm in there! Those things were dangerous! Once all that was done, you still had to take it out and put it on the clothesline.

We had the advanced technology of having the clothesline on a pully, so we’d just go to one spot, and pin it and wheel it out, but lots and lots did, and maybe still do (because lets face it, clothes off the line is STILL so much fresher than from the dryer), just had one strung across the garden, propped up by a board with a notch to keep it from dragging.  For those had the extra work of mucking the basket across the garden with them as the pinned it out.

And then of course after all was said and done, everything, or pretty much everything had to be ironed.  Sheets, shirts, pants, towels, face cloths, even underwear! It was all ironed, I think the only thing Mom didn’t iron was socks!

The technology for washing has changed a lot over the years, and I’m sure more than I do it on other days than Monday, wonder if anyone has their line filled today?

July 21, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

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