Only a "little" rain last night...cloudy, but no rain this morning. Our campground is nice, if a little commercial, and there's electric. So...I'm brewing up a pot of coffee around 6:30.
We've got a long (very) drive today to get from the western end of Newfoundland to the eastern end. There was a different ferry that we could have taken, but it was over twice as much as the one we took. So...the plan is to drive "balls out" over to the capitol, St. Johns, then work our way back via two National Parks (Terra Nova and Gros Morne).
It is, in fact, every bit as long as I expected...but...we're getting to see a lot of the island. Around 1:00 or so, we stop for lunch at a tiny little restaurant in the middle of nowhere for a burger (Ed) and, for me, a local specialty...fried bologna and fries with gravy (it was actually pretty tasty). Then, back on the road...overcast, rainy, and an hour in "pea soup" fog. Around 6:30, we arrive in St. Johns and our campground, "Pippy Park". Since this will be our last piece of "civilization" before Quebec City, we decide to "cab it" into town for dinner and cocktails.
Our cab driver exemplifies the tradition of Newfoundland friendliness. First, he explains a few things..."This is St. Johns...you can walk anywhere day or night and be safe...there's no crime...if you get lost, ask anyone for help, they will be more than happy to help...they will probably join you for a drink". Then, befor we arrive at our destination, he shuts off the meter, and drives us around to show us where all the good spots are located...awesome!
Our first stop is the "Ship In Pub", noted in my guidebooks as particularly "local" and especially friendly. It is all of that as we are "bonding" with the locals within minutes.
Newfoundland has a tradition called "screeching in" which involves welcoming visitors with a short of Jamaican Rum ("Screech"), making them kiss a codfish, and reciting some verse..."may the cut of your jib be straight" or something like that.
So, Ed and I "screech in" at the Ship In...great fun and much ceremony...and...the Screech tastes pretty good.
Later, it's dinner at "Blue on Main"...Ed has curried cauliflower soup and I opt for fried cod tongue and a platter of venison carpaccio...excellent washed down with a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
After dinner, it's back to the Ship In for "Open Mike Night"...some good local talent...and Ed gets to read some of the poetry that he's written on the trip...and people like it!
More beers, more Screech...a late night cab ride back to camp in a pouring rain.
It's been quite a day.
Ed's Sidebar, Day 34:
On the road to St. John's, Newfoundland:
It's the best we can do with an artificial intelligence: we can try to make a driverless vehicle. The brainy types build a huge database of facts and definitions; they make rules of engagement for the facts; they put glass eyes on a glass frame, front and back. Wheels carry the facts, point to point. Facts stumble over a course in the desert where they can't hurt themselves when they crash...Now, how easily a crow rises on its bulky frame from its breakfast of road kill, its tiny intelligence engaged on 'automatic' to avoid the trampling by our tires. How deftly its claws attach to the power line. Our artificial intelligence is no match for a crow. Not even close.
Origin of the Dragon Myth:
Giant squids abound, icebergs, whales, nine-foot-tall moose appear. A monster lobster lumbers the old hills of Newfoundland in this dream. There are not enough spears to bring it down. It tosses a tribesman into the pot. There was an early hell, even in the age of superstition.
We cannot escape the Winds of Blomidon. Even on the highway, it finds us again. It sent out its minion breezes, their swirling spies of a hundred eyes, and they found us. It being otherwise a day of good omens, we made our escape through the woods of a glacial valley near Terra Nova, Newfoundland.
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