Random Island

Git!

One dark night, early in the morning, 3 hungover lads got up to hunt….

Well that’s not quite the way the old rhyme goes, but my version suits the story more.  In the fall of 1995, I had a caribou license for up in back of Terra Nova/Gambo area.  Myself and Eric had decided we were going to go hunting over the weekend, but like young gaffers do, we had been to a bonfire the night before till late. I did manage to get myself home for a few hours sleep, I can’t say if Eric did or not.  But I know the third member of our expedition did sleep, even if only for a little.  I know this because when I drove up to pick up Eric at about half past 3 or 4 o’clock, all I could see were feet laying on the edge of the pavement.  At first I thought it was Eric, but nope, it was Rod in all his glory sprawled out on the ground.  I know he did it for devilment, but if he tries to say he didn’t at least pass out for a little while he shootin something, and its not caribou!

With that the trio was formed, and off we went.  We drove my dad’s old GM Sierra pickup first up to Terra Nova area.  Not being familiar with the area, we really just drove around the back roads.  At some point Rod had to make use of a tree, and for whatever reason also changed his jeans.  This latter point will relate to the story, but you gotta stay patient!

We decided to give up on the Terra Nova area, and instead made for what we, at least, called Mint Brook road.  This is off the highway near Gambo, and goes winding all over the back country. I believe it can even take you down to the south coast if you know the way.  Anyway we drove and drove, till according to the truck odometer we weer about 65 miles up in the woods.  And of course what should happen? Well the exhaust let go on the truck.

Luckily we had some old wire in the back, and we stopped and got it wired up somehow.  I know there’s a picture somewhere of me laying under the truck doing it.  Good to go once again, at some point we pulled off for a lunch.  And what should we see, 65 miles up in the woods, but crab legs!  Yes somehow, whether by birds, or people having a meal, there were old crab leg shells in a turnaround.  Being frustrated with the lack of caribou, I know we took a picture of Rod pretending to shoot them.

I seem to remember seeing one caribou way off, but maybe that was on a different trip, because I also seem to remember us not seeing anything alive except a beaver, and then debating whether we should shoot it!  If we thought we could get it out and that it was fit to eat, we probably would have.

Giving up on the hunting, we drove back out of the woods, and made an excursion to Glovertown.  I am not certain, but I believe it was somewhere near here we saw a “Taxidermy and Take-Out”.  I kid you not.  We decided against trying the take-out, figuring since it was also a taxidermy, we weren’t sure we’d want to eat what they were cooking.

At some point during our many wanderings, Rod thought for some reason he had left his other jeans back near Terra Nova. He kept telling me to “git” back there to pick them up.  That and him jabbing his finger in the direction of the road had me in tears laughing.  (not to be confused with the tears shed from, well lets just say the gas from too many beer the night before).

I know we were going around for weeks after saying “Git!”  It still brings a laugh to me now.

 

May 29, 2013 by Uncategorized 5

A Perfect Moment – A Poem

I’m no poet I know, but something I wrote a while back has been brewing this, and while I’m not sure it captures the feeling, not sure I have words that can, its my best attempt.  This is me, 10 years old.  This is Apsey Brook, this is Random Island.  This is why, to me, my little piece of the rock is perfect, and this was a perfect moment in time.

It is the summer of my childhood
rod in hand, I stroll to the wharf
an osprey circles overhead
the world breathes in time with his wings

The waves slap the wharf pilings lightly
an unbaited hook drifts to bottom
jiggling, luring a flatfish
snapping sharply, missing

flatfish abandoned, following the shore
flat rocks skipping, skipping
round ones thrown high
attempting a dead mans bubble

driftwood boats ply their trade
seagulls cry, sterrins chirrup
stranded jelly fish decorate the beach
twillicks chase the tide

up the brook, dark pools beckon
beams of sunlight through sun dappled leaves
catch trout swirling, dancing
ignoring the unbaited hook

rocks make a dam, circling the pool
smaller, smaller,  trout contained
hands grab, miss, grab again, fish squirts free,
youth splashes, suddenly soaked

The drops fall in slow motion
sunbeams dry me
walking back, boots slosh
the world breathes with me

 

May 16, 2013 by Uncategorized 2

Cocks and Hens

Growing up, one of my favorite things to do was to go cod fishing.  Its funny, but we never called it that, a trip to the fishing grounds was usually just called going out in boat.  I guess the two just naturally went together, I mean why else go out in boat?

Usually cod fishing was done by the old standard hit and miss method of using a cod jigger.  You’d lower the jigger to bottom, and then pull it up a fathom or so and stroke the line back and forth, hoping to hook into a cod.

But other times we’d use a feathered hook, or a baited hook with some orange cloth on it.  Well I’m not sure the orange mattered as much as something to attract the fishes curiosity.  For bait we’d use squid, caplin, herring, or often, cocks and hens.

They are properly a soft shelled clam, but we always knew them by the name cocks and hens, I really have no idea why, maybe someone can enlighten me.  These clam live in the soft muddy tidal flats around the shore line.  For us. we’d usually go to Southwest Brook, near Snook’s Harbour at low tide and walk out on the mud.

The clams themselves live 6-8 inches deep in the mud, you could see where by the little round tube they left in the mud to let water and food in and waste out.  Finding these, we’d dig down with a shovel, generally a little ways away from the hole so as not to smash them.  The shells on these are very soft and easily broken.  Generally we’d dig up a 5 gallon bucket full of them along with some sand and ocean water to keep them moist, and leave them in the cool fishing stage.

On our next trip out in boat, we’d take the bucket, and open a cocks and hen, and put it on our hook as bait to try and catch a nice growler (Dad’s term for a big one that would make the old corded jigging line growl)!

Nothing I loved more than an early morning trip out in boat, spending a few hours on the water.

May 15, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

If you’re not gonna share…

In 1973, the “New” school on Random Island opened. Originally called Random Island Integrated, its now called Random Island Academy. In Grade 11, I was part of the drama club that put off a, in pretty much everyones opinion, great play called Riverrun, semi based on a book of the same name about the Beothuks.  I am not sure, but I think the play may have been written by our teacher, Ray Budgell, but I could be wrong, that was 1982 after all.  I have great memories of it, and while we didn’t win anything at the festival, I will always feel we won in the court of public opinion, and look back fondly on our performance.

Some of our practices broke down into some riotous laughter for sure.  There was one day I could not keep a straight face at Evan Reid’s town crier saying Hear Ye, Hear Ye.  And one other practice where Virginia Smith said “Me fell down to me knees” or something like that.

I was also proud to be a member of the Crusader Basketball team in Grade 10. I was quite good at keeping that bench warm, and got to visit quite a number of places for tournaments.

Was lucky to be a bench warmer for some great players too, we went to the provincials that year, and if memory serves, missed out on the playoffs by score differential of 2 baskets. I have no illusions about my abilities, but I am happy I got to participate, and also look back on that fondly.

Our coach, Rod Nichol, was also our gym teacher, and our Biology teacher, and this particular memory relates to the latter.

Rod had a terrific sense of humour, I remember the correct answer to a multiple choice question “An example of osmosis is…” being Mork’s finger (Mork and Mindy for all you young whippersnappers, look it up).  Another great memory relates to the title.  Like all teens, we weren’t above sneaking a snack into the classroom, which of course wasn’t allowed, a rule enforced more by some teachers than others.  Well this one Biology class in Grade 10, Jennifer Adey had a bag of candy in class, and was caught eating them by Mr. Nichol (Rod). Of course he yelled at her, and promptly confiscated the candy.

But the funny part is instead of keeping them in the desk to give back later as was normal, he took the bag around the class and shared the candy with everyone but Jen! I don’t think there was one left at the end.  Well Jen, if you’re not gonna share…. see what happens?

May 10, 2013 by Uncategorized 5

The Bus Shelter Social Center

Every rural area has their one spot where people seem to gather. It’s often a local store, and Berniece’s Variety in Elliott’s Cove was one such place, and deserving of a post of its own before long, but before that, when we were younger, and especially in summer, we had another spot.

Back in the late 70’s or early 80’s, the Random Lion’s Club made and set up bus shelters in all the communities on the island. Painted with the, ahem, lovely lions purple and gold, they became a place to stand out of snow and rain while waiting for the school bus.

But more than that, they became a congregating place for the younger people, and none more so than the one in Snook’s Harbour bottom.

While there was nothing to do there really, it became the place to meet up before doing other things. The fact that the meeting often became the other thing was just part of our lives.  We’d spend hours there, chatting, laughing, socializing, gossiping, making up lies, drawing crude graffiti, and generally having a good time.  In summer time we’d prop our bikes against it, use it as home base for kick the can, and god knows what else.

Looking across Snook's Harbour to the mead

Looking across Snook’s Harbour to the mead

It became our spot, and while the memories run together, I can hear us all, Eric, Barry, Bernard, Craig, Jim, Susan, Miss Stephanie, Renee, and many others laughing, yelling, cursing and being young.  It was the launching point for our evenings and nights, many meetups there to go elsewhere, including to have a bonfire on the mead pictured.

 

 

May 9, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

The Scariest Thing in the Woods

Newfoundland is lucky in both our variety of wildlife and our lack of wildlife at the same time.  Being an island, a lot of mainland species aren’t, or at least weren’t present on the island till introduced.  The common squirrel (ie: a rat with a furry tail) was totally unknown to me growing up and I think I saw my first one in the early 80’s.  I also never saw a snake, porcupine, deer, or skunk till I visited the mainland.

Yet we do have a variety of animals, some very large, some quite small.  Random Island was at one time over populated with moose.  I remember one drive to work at the Holiday Inn in Clarenville, I saw 19. I also remember a bike road home at about 10 or 11 pm, and having to drive one out of the road near Cooper’s Brook on the Apsey Brook road. I hear bears are getting pretty common too now, and while they were there when I grew up, I only saw one.  We had a few caribou, but again only saw one of those.

Smaller than these we had tons of mink, otters, beaver, muskrats, and even the teensy shrew.  Yet none of these gave us a scare when walking in the woods, except in rare instances, we left each other alone.

But there was one thing, one not so large thing, that would send your heart to racing, and make you jump about 50 feet when you encountered it.  Yes, there was nothing any more frightening than when you flushed a snipe.  These little birds were so well camouflaged you could nearly step on them, and when you did, they flew up in your face, making a sound like all the banshees of hell had been released.

Beware the snipe!

May 7, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

The Barbecue Pipe

We’ve been cooking over coals back home as long as I can remember. Bonfires on the beach weren’t the same unless you threw a few potatoes on the coals.

Barbecuing was a relatively new thing when I was a kid, but became popular fast.  I think the first one I saw used was the old table top Hibachi.  Then everyone had the old orange one with the tripod legs.  You’d see this in pretty much everyone’s yard or on their step, and it remains pretty popular even now.

Dad worked at the Department of Highways and had access to a few old discarded items.  Once corrugated steel pipes started to replace the old concrete ones, those old ones were discarded.  Dad claimed a huge one as you can see here.  I have no idea how he got it home.  I remember we rolled it up around the back of the house.  The thing was huge, its opening was about 3 feet in diameter.

This became our barbecue.  Dad drilled holes in it about half way down, and inserted some long bolts.  On these he rested a flat circular piece of iron.  On top of this we filled it to about 3/4 full with sand.  Our charcoal went on top of this.  I don’t recall what we had for a grill, it may have even been an old oven grate, but many many MANY meals were cooked over that.

Our house was a congregating place, and it wasn’t unusual to see Eric, Barry, Bernard, Elvis, Derek, Rod, and many more from time to time a

Our old back door (BBQ just to right of pine with chair behind)

ll over at once, and everyone bringing their own meats, dogs, burgers, fish, and whatever else, and cooking up one huge scoff.

Mom would make salads, keep us going in plates and things to drink, and clean up after us.  Dad would help her, and us, and be a part of everything.  I’m not sure how they had the energy to keep up with a houseful day after day but they did, and am thankful for it.  That old pipe cooked up a lot of meals for us, and represented a lot of companionship.  Food was and is more than a meal back home, its a tradition of sharing what little we had, and spreading the food, and the joy, fun and love of family around.

May 5, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

Fraggles? Aliens? Our 1978 Visitors

I’ve not heard mention of this in years, but back in the fall of 1978, there was a period of a month or so where everyone (but me, alas) was seeing a UFO over Random Island.  Looking at reports on the net, the one sighting I see reported, (incidentally by an RCMP officer) was of a cigar shaped object.

I seem to remember people talking about a triangular shaped object however, with a colored light near each point.  Its possible I’ve confused two different incidents (because we all know Grindstone Head is a UFO base right?), but I remember my neighbour Marjorie Kelly describing it like that.

In any event, it was for me an exciting time, and I’m sure for others a nervous one, whether a believer or unbeliever   I just wish I could have seen it.  Perhaps it was Jim Henson doing research, because as we all know, Random Island is the basis for the show Fraggle Rock which debuted in 1983!

Does anyone remember it? Let me know, I would love to hear more!

April 29, 2013 by Uncategorized 1

Brannistickles in Friggin’s Cove

About a mile or so down past Apsey Brook, the brook from Friggin’s (Fagan’s) Cove Pond and the steadies runs out to the ocean in Smith’s Sound.  Years past, before even my advanced time, the Phillips family had a saw mill down here and you can still see remnants of old slabs, and sawdust grown over by grass to this day.

It was also a very nice spot to come ashore for a family outing, as on the sand bar you can see in the picture, wild mussels would grow.  We’d pick some of these, often huge ones, with shells as big as your fist, though the sand bar would shift some years and we’d be left with smaller ones as they regrew.  Once picked, we’d put them in a boiler and cook them on a coleman stove.   Of course back then, a coleman stove also involved adding naphtha (which we usually called white gas) and pumping it up for pressure, not the easy propane ones we get now.

While they were cooking, us kids would play around the beach, trying to catch trout in the brook, but having much more luck with brannistickles (sticklebacks).  We’d take a piggin from the boat, and lay it in the shallow pools, and the brannistickles would swim in to investigate.  We’d play games with them for a while, and then let them go again, careful not to stab ourselves on their spines.

Bill March at Friggin's Cove Rattle

Bill March at Friggin’s Cove Rattle

Walking in the brook, there’d be a couple deeper pools where you could indeed catch a trout, and we’d do that sometimes.  But Newfoundlanders are practical folks generally, and what we catch we like to eat, and brook trout, with their pasty white flesh aren’t very good eating.  Up from the deepest pool was the rattle, and it was sight to see and a sound to be heard in spring with the winter run off gushing down the slick rocks.  We’d climb up so far, and lay around, but it was pretty slippery and I at least never attempted to climb all the way up.

Trekking back to the beach, we’d find our steaming pot of mussels, and devour them, careful of sand and pearls that you don’t find in today’s cultivated mussels.  Some families kept hen’s and for those, they’d gather mussel shells here as well to take back and crush for grist for their hens.

Back in the boat, we’d head back for home, perhaps trying to jig a cod on the way, but satiated with a wonderful feast, cooked in their own ocean water, and with the fresh salt ocean air to stimulate our senses.

April 28, 2013 by Uncategorized 3

Random Island (and Newfoundland) from Space

Just a gallery of Commander Hadfield’s pictures of Newfoundland from space.  Will add as he posts more (if he does).  Thanks Commander!

April 21, 2013 by Uncategorized 0

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