Sailing around icebergs and Narwhals in the far north..
March 1, 2004
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Ode to Newfoundland
-- Sir Cavendish Boyle, 1914
When sunrays crown thy pine-clad hills,
And summer spreads her hand,
When silvern voices tune thy rills,
We love thee, smiling land.
When spread thy cloak of shimmering white,
At winter's stern command,
Through shortened day and starlit night,
We love thee frozen land,
When blinding storms gusts fret thy shore
And wild waves lash thy strand,
Through spindrift swirl and tempest roar,
We love thee, wind-swept land,
As loved our fathers, so we love,
Where once they stood we stand,
Their prayer we raise to heaven above,
God guard thee, Newfoundland.
These words written by Cavendish Boyle in the early part of the last century are probably the most famous and extensively known words written about Newfoundland. They best
express the deep love that Newfoundlanders feel about their native land. They also reflect the feeling Eric Girard and I felt after our fantastic visit to this great land.
Newfoundland, for those who don't know and I suspect that even includes some Canadians, is located off the East Coast of Canada. It's an island half the size of Great Britain,
and has a population of nearly a half-million people. Newfoundland has the oldest and most extensive history in all of North America. At L'Anse au Meadows in the North of the
island there is the only authenticated Viking settlement that dates back 1000 years. St John's is the capital of this Canadian province. Its name was derived from the feast
day of St-John the Baptist, because on that day in 1497, John Cabot the explorer sighted the New-Founde-Lande. Newfoundland has the oldest European settlements in North
America dating back to the early 1500's. The first settlements were English, Irish, and French fishermen and whalers who arrived to fish its abundant waters. It has since
grown to be one of the most spectacular locations to visit in all of Canada.
A couple of years ago, Eric Girard, while still living on Maui, told me of his dreams and plans of windsurfing near and around icebergs. I thought he was a little crazy,
especially after experiencing the warmth of Maui's tropical trade winds. I asked him where he would like to do this and he told me he had heard Newfoundland had icebergs
every spring. Being Canadian, I had heard of Newfoundland, but had never dreamed that I might be visiting this unknown and distant island. I often heard jokes about
"Newfies," a not so endearing term used by Canadians for Newfoundlanders. Many Canadians see it as a backwater land, where the people have a peculiar accent and are,
at best, unsophisticated.
When Eric spoke to me about taking this trip, I was very skeptical and a little afraid. After living on Maui for 15 years and almost exclusively traveling to exotic
tropical destinations, I was afraid of the cold and isolation for which Newfoundland is infamous. I would soon find out that my fears were mostly unwarranted. The
trip that Eric and I would be taking would begin in my hometown of Montreal and wind its way across Quebec and the Maritime Provinces before a ferry ride would take
us to Newfoundland.
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Courtesy of P.Media |
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Our journey to Newfoundland began with the anticipation of a 14-hour ferry ride across the often-rough waters of the North Atlantic. The ferry departed from Sydney,
Nova Scotia, a depressed and dying mining town in the north of Nova Scotia. We were anxious to get out of Sydney and started on our journey to Newfoundland. To the
both of us it would feel like a journey to a New-Found-Lande; a land of riches, laughter, wonder, joy and magic, not to mention great windsurfing.
Both Eric and I had spoken of our expectations of Newfoundland, and we had come to an agreement that our expectations would not at all resemble the reality of what we
were about to encounter. Before leaving Maui, I had tried to do a little research on Newfoundland; to see what we could expect and maybe find a few images to stoke my
creative fire, but I found very little information and virtually no pictures. I was sure Newfoundland was a giant rock with little to photograph and even less to
experience, except, perhaps, the cold.
Fifteen hours later, sleepless and having braved the cold North Atlantic, we finally arrived in the port town of Placentia on the Avalon Peninsula, one of the many
strangely named towns that we would come across. The fog was thicker than the proverbial pea soup as we drove the van off the ferry. From Placentia to St-John's, our
planned destination for the first day, was a three-hour drive through some of the thickest fog I had ever encountered. I was sure the fog would clear just a little
inland, but it wasnÕt so. Maybe we would get three weeks of fog with no wind and no images to make our trip successful. I was worried, but I decided to get some
desperately needed sleep in the back of the van as Eric began the crossing of the Avalon Peninsula to St-John's.
We decided to drive to Signal Hill, one of St-John's most popular attractions and vista points. It's near the mouth of St-John's bay and overlooks the city and the
perfectly sheltered harbor that attracted so many fishermen to call this area home. Driving through the city we soon realized that the people of St-JohnÕs did not
fit the images of backcountry folk without any class and ugly looks. Quite the opposite, the city was full of well-dressed sophisticated and beautiful people. It
also seemed that there were so many more women than men. Were the men all out fishing? Or was this a paradise for visiting windsurfers from a distant land. The
city, too, was surprisingly beautiful, with its mix of colorfully painted San Francisco-style Victorian row houses, and a downtown of old red brick and stone
buildings reminiscent of old Montreal or Quebec city. It was apparent that the city was old, but it was also well kept and clean as a whistle.
The view from Signal Hill was spectacular with the city, harbor and North Atlantic before us. The sky was blue and clear and the air was cool, but comfortable and
fresh. After our long journey to get here we took in the scenery, got a few images and relaxed for a good while. We were both still exhausted from the ferry ride
and the drive and needed the break. Eric, while researching the trip, had e-mailed "Brad," one of the half a dozen or so windsurfers that call Newfoundland home
and the most avid of the bunch. Apparently, a dozen or so years ago, there was a healthy community of a couple hundred windsurfers in the area, with weekly regattas
in the nearby "ponds." Unfortunately, like the rest of the windsurf world, that number slowly dwindled with so-called advances and prices of technical equipment
that emerged in the early nineties.
We were hoping to get some wave sailing in Newfoundland to round out the whole trip and story, but the main purpose was to get back to the roots of windsurfing with
cruising and light wind sailing - fun and adventure. With the recent advent of the Wide-Board, which allows you to reach planing speeds with as little as 5 or 6
knots of wind, we were certain that we would find enough wind to make this a fun and exciting trip. Especially since it seemed that the dreaded fog had cleared.
Earlier in the morning, Eric told me he had spotted an iceberg in a bay that was visible from the Trans-Canada highway about an hour or so outside of town. After our
well-deserved break on Signal Hill, we wet back into town to get coffee and some food.
Eric tried contacting Brad to learn more about the location of the iceberg that he had spotted. He wasn't able to reach him, but we'd try again later. It was only our
first day in St-John's and it looked like we might be able to fulfill Eric's dream of cruising on his windsurf-board next to an iceberg. He cautioned me that it appeared
pretty foggy in that neighborhood, but we were here for an adventure and after our coffee and a quick check of the map we were off in the general direction of the iceberg.
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