 | Travelling across Newfoundland, I had signed up on the website www.ridetherock.com , a motorcycling forum for the island. The ride reports and informational sections offered some instruction on good routes and important sites not to miss. One name continued to keep popping up, Murph. Who was this Murph character? All I knew was that he had hosted a number of travelers in his hometown of Saint John's and offered up a bed and laundry services when I arrived. Rain streamed from my fogging visor and my right boot continued poking the 6" tear in the pannier holding my sleeping gear. I pulled into a library for some wifi and a dry space to sip my coffee when the phone rang and Murph invited me up to his house. A CanAm, 1150GSA and Big Ruckus were visible in the driveway when I pulled up, though not a car in sight. I'd later learn he also does not own a car...my kinda people. He must have heard me pull up because he poked his head out the door and said "Come on in and bring your wet stuff with you!" I collected my belongings and squished my way to the front door. To my right were a set of Triumph Tiger luggage and a pair of K bike snowflake wheels leaning under the porch. This should be good. Inside the downstairs room was an assortment of hi-viz riding jackets, helmets and waterproof leather boots. I tossed my gear to the side and went upstairs heeding the shouted instructions to remove my boots. Murph stands about 6'4" with a large frame, distinguished short silver hair and a strong handshake. His smile and size remind me of the caricature of a big friendly bear, something I can write now while I'm outside of punching range! |
"Coffee or tea?" "Coffee would be great.". I take a seat and wrap my hands around the steaming mug of coffee while we have a yarn...for the remainder of the rainy day. Immediately, the comfort of feeling at "home" sets in. Throughout the years, his generous and affable nature has welcomed a community of adventure motorcyclists on legendary, and sometimes less than impressive, trips through the island. Having ridden his GSA or K bikes to every accessible road on the island, Murph's mind is a road map of the peninsulas, coves, tickles and bites. He grew up in the house we're sitting in and worked plowing by horse on this farm as a youth. He is of this land and of this people.
I learn that Newfoundland still has an active sealing season during the winter months. Seals were traditionally hunted on ice pans which float down from the north, their fatty red meat a rare treat for natives and baymen who survive on diets of fish and the seasonal caribou herd. Nothing went to waste as the pelts were valued for clothing or tent structures and the bones used to make tools and jewelry. Much has changed today regarding the ethics and popular opinion of the industry yet the seal hunt is still a major economic driver for some smaller outport communities to the north like La Scie on the Baie Verte peninsula. We ride over to the Bid Goods, a charming grocery store outside of town amid farm fields and small communities dotting the fertile agrarian landscape. Inside I'm introduced to a variety of traditional food items.
- Moose Sausage and Bologna
- Toutans dough: fried dough for breakfast
- Capelin: a 6-8" fish that spawns here bringing the whales, cod, seabirds and seals
- Salt Beef
- Seal Flippers
- Brewis (pronounced Brews), a dehydrated hard bread
- Scrunchions: Pork fatback used for cooking seafood
- Cod: tongues (mouth/throat), britches (ovaries filled with roe, look like small pants)
Murph's now infamous rubric for culinary adventure on the island is a taste of seal flipper pie. We pick up a few assorted odds and ends, bags of chips and return home for dinner. The pie is precooked by the store and we heat it in the oven for an hour while I upload pics to the cloud. The waxy thin crust is more a layer which is peeled off. Encapsulated in the deep brown gravy are potatoes and carrots amid 1" chunks of the seal meat. The flesh removed from the flipper has a stringy tendency of stewed beef but a distinct taste of fish. It is delicious and I scarf down the majority of the pie. This food sticks to the belly and I was well full into the following morning. "I washed the sheets otherwise the bed is still warm from the last guy" he chuckled. He showed me to the shower and gave me my own room with a big fluffy set of pillows on the queen size bed.
Out for a scoot in Petty Harbour, home of Alan Doyle of Great Big Sea...and many cod
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