Deciding to keep breakfast light and simple, I had some toast and tea with George Fudge around 6:45AM. We had a memorably conversation about the state of the fisheries and his experience living in Francois for 46 years. Despite his time here, he is always ready to say that he isn't "from" here, but originally from Burgeo, a growing community to which the boat was destined today. One could easily write a book about his life, the seas he has seen and the fish caught back in the golden age of the fishery. At 7:30AM, I eased into one of the old airplane seats (complete with ashtrays) bolted to the floor of the lounge and prepared for the next 4 hours at sea. It was a bit rougher than the day before and I was quickly feeling it, keeping my eye on the horizon and trying to get some fresh air whenever possible. The smell of diesel exhaust and the heat of the bilge room below didn't help matters much. I was quite happy when after an hour and a half, the small outport of Grey River appeared ahead. The sight of deciduous trees, alders and a few spruce was quite a change from the barren coastline surrounding Francois and McCallum. The boat barely touched the dock before quickly loading a few items, some passengers and continuing on back to sea. The spray was too much for me to remain on the bow of the ship so I stood on the upper deck for as long as possible before the noxious fumes of the exhaust overwhelmed me. Back inside the lounge, fatigue kicked in and I leaned against my motorcycle jacket trying for some rest. Needless to say, I only slept for a few short minutes before I was jolted awake by another crash of the hull. The sun spilled forth from behind the fog bank and soon it was a beautiful and warm day out on the water. Soon the milling about of passengers and excitement in the cabin signaled that the final port of Burgeo was not too far away. I happily climbed on deck to watch the seas calm nearing port and the busy nature of the wharf. I had survived the final section of the crossing but it would take me at least a day or two to recover from the queasiness of the sea. I'll stick to two wheels any day over a boat in the open waters. The unloading of the bike went smoothly and I felt the effects of the ocean for quite a while after setting foot on land. My first stop was the grocery store for some bananas, a provision I'm rarely without except for when going on a ship...age old superstitions and all.
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The rollicking journey to Francois was probably a 2/10 as far as the North Atlantic goes but I could feel it in my head and belly by the time the coast appeared out the open porthole. The town of approximately 100 residents is a strong community who, at the most recent resettlement vote, cast only 37% for resettlement. In a place where you rely on your neighbors for safety, friendship and care, the town is closer than most I've explored. A hat worn by an elder resident at the dock read "Fransway", that's just how they pronounce it here. Along the far flung out ports, there exists an endearing dialect cultivated out of their isolation and community so that many outsiders would wonder exactly what was said. I'll admit I had some trouble at times understanding a few commands from the ship's crew when loading my bike or paying for my modest fair. Most of the crew of the MV Marine Voyager was from Francois, and would now be welcomed home for the evening. A flier on the cork bulletin board advertised "Francois Days" with many events for the kids and a few evening parties, dances and friendly community competitions. Colorful pendant banners hung throughout the town as I grabbed my camping gear and disembarked for the night. The ship spends the night here then continues on to Grey River and Burgeo in the morning. With bag in hand, I climbed the steep wooden boardwalk into town, admiring the colorful homes and creative engineering and architecture. Although sheltered from the harshness of the sea, this town no doubt sees some terrible winds, rain and ice in the winter. Nearing the school, I ask a woman where I could pitch a tent for the night and she looked at me like I was crazy. I briefly explained my trip and how I came to be in Francois when she suggested I head over to Miss Fudge's Boarding House. It was not my intention to pay for a spot this evening but her suggestion and gaze provoked me down the path and to knock on the front door. A matronly woman with caring rosy face opened the door and I explained I was looking for a place to spend the evening. The smell of a home-cooked meal wafted from the kitchen as she led me in to my bedroom in her small but clean and well appointed home. Seated at the kitchen table with some other travelers from the ship, she served me a meal of salt pork, potatoes, dressing and gravy and a side of potatoes. Her peach cobbler dessert and cup of tea hit the spot after having just a nibble of crackers and a granola bar for lunch. After the meal, I explored the many walkways through the town, waving at the curious faces in windows and snapping many photos of this isolated and wonderful place. As the darkness of evening neared, I noticed folks heading in the direction of the community hall for the evening's games. 75 people had gathered in the small room and I ordered a light beer from the bar tender and took my seat as a fly on the wall. Loose family teams played many games and small competitions with each other such as putting on a jumpsuit in a sleeping bag, tossing cheese curls onto a shaving cream covered head, putting on a diaper and feeding beer through a baby bottle and everyone's favorite, the beer chugging competition. Watching the town "let loose" and laugh at each other was a great way to break the ice and join in to their flavor of community. Afterward, I was told there would be fireworks and made my way down to Killick's Pub, a ramshackle fishing stage -turned pub by two brothers from Nova Scotia. It serves as the late night heart of the community where folks can bring their own drinks, kick back and have a yarn. They taped up the $500 of fire works they personally contributed to the community event then we all sloppily made our way to the rotten dock to set them off. I held the flashlight as we braved the windy night to set off the 50 fireworks. The dock's rotten beams bowed under our footsteps and it was a wonder nobody fell off or through to the cold water below. It was 12:30AM before I made it back to Mrs. Fudge's home but I had one hell of a memory I would not soon forget. The 6AM alarm would come all too early in a few hours but the experience was absolutely worth it. It was a misty morning in Hermitage when I rolled down to the fish plant wharf where the MV Marine Voyager was loading it's cargo. I was a few hours early but happy to learn that this boat was indeed travelling to McCallum and Francois tonight, then completing the trip on to Grey River and Burgeo tomorrow. On a map, the total passage is roughly 80 miles by sea but negates at least 250 miles of travel by road if I were to take the TCH. Ron Fudge, the Chief Engineer, tossed me a set of soggy freight slings and I got to work positioning them underneath the seat frame and the front triple tree. With my fingers crossed, I secured them into the crane's hook and he winched the bike from the wharf and into the hold of the ship. Climbing down the rusty and sloping rebar rungs of the ladder into the hold, I smiled knowing this plan would ultimately come together after all. For a few days I was fretting that I had the times wrong, or that the wasn't the right boat. The online documents for this crossing are somewhat hard to follow but alas, here I was with a scooter dangling over my head after two days of camping in the park. The ferry continuing along the southern shore from Hermitage, NL toward Burgeo only leaves on Thursday so I had two days to kill in the region. Finding the peaceful Hermitage Municipal Park, I set up camp beside a picnic area on the water and went out to find some fish in the lake. Unfortunately nothing was biting for the remainder of my stay but the sound of the surf on the stone beach relaxed me like no other. As night came on, the sounds of music and celebration sounded from a nearby collection of RV's. I met the many youngsters who took a liking to the bike and enjoyed sitting on the diminutive scooter. Accepting their invitation to stop by, I made my way over to Grandpa Morris's 72nd Birthday Party! With 10 children and their many grandchildren about, it was a lively bunch. After an introduction where all eyes were on me, I was handed an ice cold brew and welcomed in to the celebration with a plate of pulled pork BBQ and the best baked beans I've ever had. Making my way around the fire circle I chatted with the matriarch who was interested in my journey, as well as the younger family members collected from all corners of the province. Wrapping up the night with a bright display of fireworks and the freeing of Chinese Lanterns, I finished my beer watching the two glowing orbs float high into the still night sky. Just another perfect evening in Newfoundland with great company and conversation. |
Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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