Random Island

Traipsin over the Goowhitty

This is my favorite time of year.  I love the crisp October mornings, even if we’ve not really had one yet.  To walk in behind Apsey Brook, in on the level, boots breaking the ice skim on the puddles, crisp air in your nostrils, its as close to perfect as I can imagine.

The only downside is the smell of the goowhitty leaves and flowers both alive and dead giving off their distinctive smell.  What is goowhitty you ask? Go Whetty? Gole Weddy? Many pronunciations, but as for what it is, well its….. goowhitty! Everyone knows that!

Well actually its a combination of plants, or one with many names, or… I’m confused.  In any event its Labrador Tea, Lambskill, and Sheep’s Laurel.  Though one or more of those may be the same thing! One of the plants at least is https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kalmia_angustifolia.

Whatever it is, I think every rural Newfoundlander knows the smell.  Its not really a bad one, but something we’re all familiar with as we traipse through the woods, to the pond, to the berry barrens, to our heritage.

If you get a chance, take a walk in the quiet woods soon, smell the goowhitty, play with the ice skim on the puddles, be a kid and pull it up and look through it like glass.  Smell the frost, the salt air, and be at peace.  There’s no feeling like it.

October 2, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Fill in!

Comes the cry from Vince’s or Ivan’s, fill in! No we didn’t need to fill in any holes, except those around the table.  Fill in is the cry to fill your seat around the poker table.

Fall Friday nights were often spent at Ivan’s or Vince’s, playing poker, not the texas hold-em of today, but dealers choice, usually 5 Card Draw.  Get a jackpot? Well then someone needed jacks or better to open the next hand.  We also occasionally played some blackjack or blind indian, high or low chicago, and I forget what else.

The biggest difference in our games was though the gizmo.  The gizmo was an innocuous film canister.  Well, its what held it anyway.  The gizmo takes some explaining; the first hand of the night was the gizmo hand.  All players put a loonie in the pot and we played as normal, with the winner winning the gizmo, and its value being the contributed loonies.  Here’s where it gets interesting, when it was the winners turn to ante, he anted the gizmo, basically a free ante.  but if anyone else wanted to play that hand, they had to ante its value.  So we could automatically have a large pot on the board before we really started.  Tradition then said the winner added another loonie to its value so as the night went on, it got more and more valuable.

Of course with increased value, often no one played the hand at all, but sometimes…. well holy cow!

Of course there were other memories of poker night too, like the night Ivan’s brdige collapsed, or Dale Butt calling for Tracey and Eric saying “Terra Nova fisheries, Connor speaking”.  To be followed by two more “Duffet’s Building Supplies, Carpenter Speaking”, and finally “House of the Lord, Jesus speaking” before he caught on he wasn’t getting wrong numbers.

Memories of me and Howard raising each other over and over, him with a pair of 3s and me with a pair of deuces.  And Chris Haynes laughing his head off cause he had thrown away three nines. Memories of being “notched”, of Vince feeding the rabbit, of Vince opening a jackpot and then throwing away his openers and taking 5 and still beating Jim Bailey and memories of watching the OJ Simpson chase on Ivan’s small black and white tv.

 

September 27, 2013 by Uncategorized 3

First Job
Elliott`s Cove Ball Park

Lion’s Ball Park

Last night, I saw John Cleese here in Halifax.  And that reminded me, in a round about way, of my first job.

In the summer of 1982, the year I graduated high school (last graduating Grade 11 class before grade 12 was introduced) the Random Lions Club got a grant to develop a park at Elliott’s Cove Pond.  They proceeded to have a summer job program for some students, and one supervisor.

I put my name on the list which if I remember correctly was by filling out a form at manpower, and was lucky enough to get chosen.  After all these years I forget who else worked there that summer, but I do remember Merril Rogers was our supervisor/co-worker, and that both Rob and Derek Burt worked there as well.

At the time, where the park is now was nothing but woods, we worked hard that summer, clearing land with chain saws, sometimes in oilskins in the pouring rain.  Wheeling wheelbarrow loads of crushed stone to make paths, chopping up roots, hauling stumps, making bridges, etc.  But by the time the summer was over, a lot of the core park area was ready to be developed more.

One regret that I have is that from my first paycheque, which Dad cashed for me at the bank while I was working, he got me a silver dollar to have as a keepsake from it.  I had it for many many years, until my move to Nova Scotia where at some point it was forgotten or mislaid.  Hoping sometime I can find it.

How does John Cleese enter into this? Well one of my most vivid memories of the summer was myself and Rob Burt, on the beach near the brook, reciting scenes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail as we ate our lunch.

Hard work, and still a lot of fun.  And we started a park that while maybe nothing spectacular has had lots and lots of use since, and am proud.

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September 15, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Apple Pickin Time

Near the road back home in Apsey Brook, on Uncle Luther’s Land (I guess Carol’s? Meghan’s? now, well thats irrelevant :)) is Dad’s apple tree. Its Dad’s because his grandmother gave it to him, so its a little bit old now.

I’ve not had an apple from it since I moved here I don’t think, but my mouth waters now just remembering them.  Around this time of year, probably a little later if you liked them ripe, was time to start picking the apples.  I preferred them a little unripe, and still green, they tasted pretty much like Granny Smith‘s then.  Later when they got yellower and some frost got into them, they got a little mushier, and more like a Golden Delicious, not my favorite.  And in general not most others either, as the old folks would say they were only fit for apple sauce and pie then.

The tree brings back a lot of memories too.  I remember taking a book from the bookmobile  and laying back on the big branches reading for hours on end while leisurely eating apples.  I also remember hundreds of friends and strangers coming to the door looking to buy a bag.  Some years there were soooo many it seemed there was no end.  Others there were less, but usually there were tons.

I remember one year, I sooooo wanted a pair of $200 hiking boots from Roses Plumbing in Clarenville (yeah, shoes, at a plumbing store… ).  I sold enough apples a two dollars a CO-OP bag (our major supermarket) bag full to buy those boots.  And those weren’t like today’s bags, there were soooo many apples stuffed in them!  Plus on top of that we gave plenty away to friends and family and had more than enough for ourselves. Shame of it all is Mom accidentally threw those boots away a year or so later!

Of course everyone made pies, and apple sauce, and baked apples for dessert.  But my favorite was to eat them raw, or to have moms green apple and green tomato pickles (like a chow chow for the non-newfoundlanders). I love those things so much, don’t want a lot, but it adds such a taste to the traditional Sunday supper cold plate.

Of course there are other memories too.  The tree was near a huge bed of wild roses.  Those things smell terrific but there’s no way to control them.  We’d try to trim them back and keep them somewhat under control, but they also did help provide a barrier to the thieves.  Yes, crime was rampant back in those days, and likely still today.  At least the crime of young people robbing apple trees, its a rite of passage!  Even with my own tree, I’ve participated in this rite.  Something we all did.  In earlier times, you could get an ass load of salt for your troubles.  Some of the older folks would make their own shotgun shells filled with coarse fisherman’s salt and shoot those heinous robbers.

I never did it often, nor got caught (at least that I remember) but I did scare quite a few people out of our tree.  The one time I remember best was when Dad and I scared Jason Bailey out of the tree, and he jumped…. right into the rose bushes.  I can still see dad now, bent double from laughing so hard as Jason was scratched to pieces in those old trees.  I don’t know if he ever came back to steal some again, but I am pretty sure he still remembers that night!

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September 7, 2013 by Uncategorized 6

Its flippin September, time for flippin school, and …. flippin cards!
I think Roy Marsh and Paul George, not sure who's facing away. That may even be me, not Roy, I did have hair back then! (Photographed from RandomMemories Yearbook)

I think Roy Marsh and Paul George, not sure who’s facing away. That may even be me, not Roy, I did have hair back then! (Photographed from RandomMemories Yearbook)

In Random Island Integrated, spending my days
Classes from Randall and Loder, makin me dazed
When along came a couple of guys up to no good
Flippin their hockey cards, like bad boys would

Apologies to Will Smith for the bad interpretation!  School time is here again, and that was often met with a lot of groans and sighs from us kids, but there were some positives too, often we didn’t see our friends for the whole summer.  While Random Island doesn’t have a lot of people, its also not so easy for a kid of 10 or 12 to get the 15 miles to his best friends house unless he biked it.

Like all kids of that generation, we were also all hockey mad, and of course we all collected the o-pee-chee hockey cards.  We’d buy a pack when we could, or bug our parents to, but of course the real way to collect hockey cards is in the school hallway, flippin them! Odds! Evens! Oh man, you won my lucky checklist! I’m not flippin for that one! That’s a trophy card! I’ll give you 10 for it!

I can still hear the familiar refrain after all these years, and the pleasure of winning a stack, and the agony of losing all your cards and trying to borrow 5 from someone.  And I still swear to this day that checklists were luckier than the rest!

September 2, 2013 by Uncategorized 7

Bare Mountain

As you come down over the hill along by the cemetery in Apsey Brook, looking straight ahead and way way down, you’ll see a bare rock face off in the distance.  I’m not sure if this has a real name, but I always called it Bare Mountain, and as a kid had a great desire to go there.

Well when I got older, myself and my usual partner in crime decided to do just that.  We were talking about it the other day, and how good it would be to have today’s phones and cameras back then.  We walked down to the steadies coming from Friggin’s cove pond brook, and made our way over the barrens and bogs keeping the hill in sight as best we could. I’m not sure if it was this trip or another, but I remember getting so hot at one point I soaked my shirt in a bog hole and put it back on.

As we walked we were steadily climbing, and eventually we made our way there, or at least to a spot that we called there.  I seem to remember Eric taking a couple pictures with a disposable camera, but I can’t remember, and with film cameras who knows if they even came out.

Until we were talking about it the other day, a lot of the details had escaped me, but I remember now that we could see Snook’s Harbour in the distance, and strangely, there was a metal survey marker in the rock.

Looking at Google maps now, trying to pinpoint the location, but I can’t I can only surmise its somewhere on the highlands over bluff head.

Has anyone else ever been there? Know anything about the survey marker? I’d love to know more about it!

August 30, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Going to Work with Dad
Dad at Work

Dad at Work

From the time I was born till he retired, Dad worked at the department of highways as a clerk.  Now a clerk for the department of highways may be an office job, but the offices them selves were usually one room buildings attached to bunk houses the department had set up in various working areas around the province.  Sometimes, when I was young dad may have stayed at these locations overnight or worked later than is the norm now.  One of the curiosities I remember was dad calling home on the old mobile phones and having to say over after we finished speaking.

As a kid one of the great things about Dad’s work, was that in summer time I could actually go spend the day at his work site, in many of the locations.  When I was a small boy, he worked out of Shoal Harbour Pit, a pipe yard for making concrete ditch pipes.  The old pit is gone now, but it was located where the ball field is now.  I can’t really remember much about this location except the little white shack dad worked in.

For another summer at least he worked out of a similar camp in Robinson’s Bight, not where the community is now (there wasn’t one there then) but closer to lady cove, in an old gravel pit by a brook.  As a kid I spent days there with him, playing around the area, catching trout in ice cream tubs, catching water skippers (I hadn’t remembered water skippers in years till I started writing this!), and of course sharing lunch from dad’s seemingly huge lunch can.

Mostly though, i remember dad working at the salt shed in Clarenville, first in the old style camps, and the later, as seen in the picture a better building, still with an attached kitchen and bunk house.  As a kid I’d go to work with dad, and sometimes spend the day, exploring the yard, playing with the glass beads they used to add to paint for road lines, marveling at all the salt in the salt shed, making castles out of the sand blasting sand, and of course playing poker with the adults at lunch time :).

Other days tho, I got a kid’s delight, heading out on the old float (flat bed) with Ches Baggs, or on a dump truck with someone, perhaps Ted Ryan, I forget who did what now, or hanging out with Paddy Mitchell, though I complete forget what he did.  Also trips on the grader, bulldozer, and god knows what else anymore; all in all a young boys delight.

So many characters were there too, with their many accents and mannerisms, and so much shared food and fun.  Of course nowadays, you’d never get away with such things, nor would you likely trust your child to be gone for the whole day with a lunch can on heavy equipment with co-workers you really only knew from work.  But it was a more trusting time, and a smaller world.  And I was lucky to have got to spend so many wonderful days with such patient men who took a young scrawny kid and spent the day with him, as well as spending wonderful days with my dad.

August 24, 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

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