I suck at math.

24 Thursday May 2012

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Frustrations taken out on an innocent calculator. Do not try this at home!

Math was never a strong suit of mine. Hell, why should it be? I’m right-brained and proud of it! Let someone else with a pocket protector do that work – Hey, I’m busy creating here! And truthfully and thankfully, there are people who can and do do that work well. If not, this book might never have happened. Never ask or trust a creative-type to do a business plan. You’ll be rewarded with a mildly bemused blank stare and a “Sure? Uhhh, you want fries with that?”

If it were up to us (creative-types), money, materials, time, balancing checkbooks, travel, all that stuff that requires some sort of record keeping would be unnecessary. Our tax returns of course might be of the same imaginative and fictional quality that landed Al Capone in jail, Jack Abramoff in jail and now on TV (Hmmm, maybe crime DOES pay!), and a whole host of others who regularly deal in financial fiction writing (Goldman Sachs, Lehman Bros., JP Chase Morgan, – you get the idea).

All of that stated, I did keep some numbers just out of some sort of OCD notion that once published, it might be fun to know what built this Cabbage Patch doll idea of mine. In a Donald Trumpian world, that translates to nothing spells success like excess.

For instance, in photographing “Arn? Narn.”,  I drove over 7,500 miles across Newfoundland. That’s equal to going back and forth across the US approximately 2.5 times. The good news is that I didn’t see a Newfoundland version of the Cadillac Ranch Art installation in Amarillo. There must be a god!

The Cadillac Ranch. This is not Newfoundland!

I shot nearly 200 roles of film. And I remember every single shot! Well, maybe not every one.

I used over 2,500 sheets of photographic printing paper to get to the final images used in the book. I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours that took. I told you I suck at math and record-keeping!

 I, like George Washington the illustrious Father of Our Country, slept around. I stayed in at least a dozen different places (and paid the bill every time) though no one left signs commemorating my short residences.

I sampled every beer (7-12 depending on what you count as true Newfoundland brew. Brewfoundland?) made in Newfoundland. Yum! I sampled vodka made in Newfoundland from icebergs. Not so yum. I’m a wuss. So what?

I ate countless packages of chocolate covered crackers along the way. An army does travel on its stomach and mine was now a bit larger for those travels. No, I didn’t measure it as part of my record keeping.

And as far as playing Newfoundland (diddly) music incessantly? Yes, guilty as charged and I lost count of the number of Newfoundland music CDs purchased.

Boring anyone who came near me to tears by recounting the wonders of Newfoundland. Yeah, very guilty. Again, a countless number.

Driving my wife crazy about how crazy I was and am about Newfoundland I was? This spans years! So, why don’t you just lock me up and throw away the key? Better yet, solitary confinement: that way no one else will have to listen to me prattling on about Newfoundland pr playing its music continuously. Or just ship me off up there and we’ll both be happy! Well, I apologize. Profusely. (Just not very sincerely.) It’s not my fault you didn’t come with me!

So, after all of this – do the numbers add up? Damned if I know. I’m looking for my next score on chocolate covered crackers. Hey buddy? Wanna help a brother out?

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Sometimes I feel like a mushroom, they keep me in the dark and feed…

21 Monday May 2012

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An artist’s rendering of the photographer in his darkroom, not quite. (farmflavor.com)

OK, the only part of that title that’s true is being in the dark. Some people supposedly near and dear to me would agree that I’m in the dark about most things. And I would protest…somewhat.

At this point, I’m spending a hell of a lot of time in the darkroom, so yes, I am in the dark, literally. But, I’m also very productive. (Sidebar – the book “Arn? Narn.” was shot on film before I made the switch to digital. Therefore the images were also printed the old-fashioned way on photographic paper in chemicals. Call me a Luddite but please don’t call the EPA!) Each time I process my film, I’m seeing anywhere from 24-144 more negatives of the several thousand taken. I plan to wait until all the film is developed before I make proof sheets. Making proofs is tedious and I want to get it done once.

However, over the years, I’ve learned to “read” negatives and from what I’m seeing, I’m encouraged that the second trip to Newfoundland is yielding the desired results. Where once there were just my nice photographs of Newfoundland, there is now a cohesiveness to them including the ones taken the year prior.

Imagine reading several thousand of these, but at 1/20th the size.

That cohesiveness will allow me to select the best ones to print. It gives me an idea of how I want the visual narrative of the book to go. So when all is said and done, I will have many proof sheets with multiple images, some various versions of the same scene, to determine which to print. I know going into this phase, I will edit to a manageable 200-300 images to print. From those prints, I will start the actual editing to a more manageable number for the book. I’ve edited my work before, but never on a scope as large as this. I have no idea how difficult this is going to prove to be. Ultimately, this will be the book.

But, un-ultimately, this leads to a whole new other phase and once again my learning curve will be steep and long. Why didn’t I learn accountancy?

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

17 Thursday May 2012

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Happy, happy, joy, joy!

It’s just a little bit of silliness from the old “Ren and Stimpy” cartoon show. You can learn a lot about a person based on what movies and TV they watch. An astute reader of this blog will no doubt know which music turns me on; which movies I like to quote; and which TV shows I admit to viewing. The key word here is admit. (I’m not saying’ anyting else ’til I talk wid my law-yer!)

But one of the real personal joys, in addition to working and producing the book “Arn? Narn.” and writing this blog, are the notes and comments received from other bloggers. The blogosphere, as dreadful a term as has been coined in a long time, is filled with people sharing, but not limited to, ideas, thoughts, art, music, problems, actually the whole scope of humankind can be found there.

What is truly amazing is that anyone can find you in the first place. And they do find you, from all over the world. The people who design these programs and write the algorithms, (the Algomystics!?) are crazy smart. I salute them for their genius and intellect that allows postally-challenged me to reach out and talk with someone new.

This blog, arnnarn.com, has readers from all over the world. I did not expect that when I started recounting my adventures in Newfoundland. Oh yeah, friends and family sure, (but curiously not! Guys, are you reading this?) but complete strangers? And the input and encouragement has been very gratifying.

The take-away from this entry is that people all over are interested in what others are doing and are willing to spend the time to find it and read it. Amazing. There is also a hell of lot of useless stuff out there too, this blog excepted of course!

In all the previous entries in this blog and the ones yet to come, I hope there has been and will be some curiosity raised, enough to click on some of the links to learn more. For really the first time in our history, we have the opportunity to hear from what one once described as “the great unwashed” or what we know as just us without the filter of a media company, a government official, or a candidate.

Looking back, I wished that the blogosphere (there’s that word again!) were around when I started the “Arn? Narn.” book. As a source of information, not all of it accurate of course, (much of it really), it can lead you to strange and wondrous places as well as some you wished you had never seen. Yet, it becomes more and more valuable each day. Just be open to what you may find. And if you don’t like it, you can always clickback on it. Just not on this blog, OK?

Revisiting Granny.

14 Monday May 2012

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I find myself thinking of a now-friend, but initially just an Newfoundland craftsman I met on my first trip up there. He is older now, 91, and isn’t turning bowls and such any longer. In an e-mail I’ve received from him recently, he states that his “Dr. advised (him) to leave off or I may find myself being spun on the lathe. Good advice I guess.” Yes, very! Bren is still with us as well as his work. We are grateful for both.

Bren was one of the first people who befriended me in Newfoundland. While this is certainly not unusual up there, friends are made easily, we have remained in touch since my travels. I think about him often, especially as I see his craft work, really art work, around our house. It never ceases to bring a smile to my face.

I wrote about Bren back in late November, 2012 and felt since my most recent correspondence with him, it was appropriate to update that posting with some additions.

Granny’s well turnings.

The sign said “Granny’s Well Turnings and Handcrafted Gifts.” So that was two more things I thought I needed to do: find out what a well turning was and meet Granny. Neither was what I thought and neither disappointed.

It was good to get out of the car and stretch my legs. Walking up to the house I was greeted by an elderly and dignified man, Bren, in work clothes. We exchanged greetings and introductions. He said I was the first one of the year. Anywhere else, I would have thought this to be the opening line in a bad horror movie in its undertones. Here it meant I was the first tourist of the year. Not surprising as it was still winter and most visitors wisely wait until the weather is a bit more clement.

He invited me into his house. Bren said he would have to get his wares out of the closet where they’d been stored in the off-season. We walked through his workshop where on the floor, all over in heaps and piles, were unfinished bowls and spindles and trinket boxes curing and drying before he could finish them. They came from burls he’d taken off trees. He said it was several years worth of work to do. (I did say he was elderly, didn’t I?)

Bren was and is your typical Newfoundlander – practical, unpretentious to a fault, funny, and most welcoming. And his work was beautiful. We talked some more; he wanted to know what I was doing up in Newfoundland and if I liked what I had seen. Oh, yes, I said. I loved it. I told him I was photographing rural Newfoundland and where I was off to next. He asked me to come visit with him again if I would be back that way when I returned to St. John’s, a couple of hours away. I told him I would try and get down to see him again. I would.

I did see Bren again that trip prior to departing. He asked me about my flight information and when I was leaving. I told him and asked why. He said I should have a proper send-off. So I find myself at the airport ticket line for a 7:30 AM departure. It’s probably around 6:15 when I hear my name being called. I turn around and it’s Bren! Proper send-off indeed. What makes this all the more remarkable is that Bren lives at least two hours from the airport. At least! Proper sendoff? You better believe it!

Little did I know at the time, but it would be the first of several return trips to visit with him. Oh, by the way, there was no Granny, just Bren. And a lot of beautiful well turnings.

The damned awful, most sorrowful part of this trip…

10 Thursday May 2012

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A very famous, overpaid (but ungrateful) sports commentator was asked about the best part of his now-over job with ESPN. His too-quick response was “Seeing it in the rear-view mirror”! Obviously, things didn’t go too well for him there. Not to worry though, both he and ESPN have gone on to greater things.

Bye Newfoundland!

For me, the worst part of this trip to Newfoundland was seeing it in my “rearview mirror”. In this case, that was the window of the plane taking me back to the states. I did not want to leave…ever. But…

In front of me was another round of developing many rolls of film, making a like number of proof sheets, and then determining whether or not I had achieved what I had set out to accomplish. I would have to look at the photographs taken over this two year period to see how it all shook out. This would take many months of work in which I would constantly be reminded of the adventures written about in this blog. Alas, no scrunchions, no Quidi Vidi brew, no chocolate covered crackers to help me on my way. Travel is so hard and boring!

As I have a fine and loud stereo in my darkroom, I would play, among all the rest of my musical selections, my newly expanded collection of Newfoundland music. So often that when I go to my next kitchen party, I would be much better equipped to participate. Not that my singing will have improved, not likely, but I’ll be able to choose from a much larger repertoire of what Oscar my friend from St. John’s refers pejoratively (a $ 1.00 word here!) to as “diddly music”. (I loved “diddly music”, but  when you grow up with something so prevalent as did Oscar, you’re not much impressed with it any longer.)

“Close the door! You’ll let out all the dark!” (Old photography joke.)

So my immediate course has been set out in front of me: hours of wet hands, inhaling semi-noxious fumes, singing/screaming at the top of my lungs “diddly music”. Yes b’y! That’s for me. Now we’ll see what develops. (Groan – another old photography joke.)

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Stop the freakin’ presses! Uh, no – keep ‘em going!

08 Tuesday May 2012

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Yesterday I wrote an entry about Breaking News. It’s a shorter than usual news cycle on this blog and this is really is what’s important today.

(pioneerdrama.com)

This is not the post I had planned for today. In the last week or so, things have accelerated and changed so much and so quickly, I’ve had to respond in kind. I usually post twice a week. This week, all bets are off.

Yesterday, I did a short and unplanned post on reaching a blog follower goal. Good enough. Nothing earth shaking, but it certainly had its place. And it had to be written.

Today’s original entry, moved back a day because of the blog goal posting, was supposed to feature a post more in keeping with what I’ve been writing about for lo’ these 9 months. But an e-mail received last night, changed all that. Much as my next post to be published later this week, which is still on schedule, it was a surprise and a very happy one at that.

Last night I received the galley of my book “Arn? Narn.” A galley is essentially a proof of what the book will look like. Now as this is my first book, I had absolutely no idea what to expect prior to seeing the galley. When a very wise and perceptive publisher, in this case Gosslee, takes on a book, (your child), you are turning over to them the upbringing and responsibility of this child and introducing them into the world. Scary? Hell, yes! Fears? You better believe it. It is an enormous leap of faith. But, we’d come this far.

I saw the e-mail and debated about whether or not to open it then or prolong the agony and wait until today when I could look at it in the unyielding and unflattering morning light. Like a kid on Christmas day, I couldn’t wait. Damn, I’m glad I didn’t.

As I mentioned a paragraph back, you turn over your work and hope and pray that they “get it”. Oh, yeah, they “got it.” In spades.

When John Gosslee and I first spoke last summer, his interest in “Arn? Narn.” was all I would have hoped for. I believed the subject matter called for respect and hopefully that is how I photographed it and how John would treat it. John and his crew certainly held true to that respect. The galley just blew me away.

My task right now is check for any errors and make any small suggestions that I feel will improve it. But I have to say, it doesn’t look like I’ll have much work to do. I can’t wait to share it with all of you. I hope you feel the same way about “Arn? Narn.” Stay tuned, it’ll be out early this fall.

Thank you, John.

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We interrupt this blog with breaking news...

07 Monday May 2012

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Reblogged from arnnarn:

Click to visit the original post

Several weeks ago, I had set a goal of reaching a certain number of followers/subscribers to this blog in order to help promote my new photography book. When that goal was reached, I would award a free, signed copy of my book “Arn? Narn.” after its publication to one lucky subscriber.

That goal has been met, actually exceeded. And the person who won is Jennifer from… drumroll please… appropriately enough, Newfoundland!

Read more… 86 more words

We interrupt this blog with breaking news…

07 Monday May 2012

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Several weeks ago, I had set a goal of reaching a certain number of followers/subscribers to this blog in order to help promote my new photography book. When that goal was reached, I would award a free, signed copy of my book “Arn? Narn.” after its publication to one lucky subscriber.

That goal has been met, actually exceeded. And the person who won is Jennifer from… drumroll please… appropriately enough, Newfoundland! Congratulations Jennifer!

  No, this is not Jennifer.             (Winners of a lottery – telegraph.uk.com)

Jennifer is also quite a good blogger and those interested in her work can read it at: jenniferkellandperry.wordpress.com . I strongly recommend it.

I will also be setting another subscriber goal for my blog and will award yet another book in the near future. But for now, Jennifer will be the recipient of one of the first copies of “Arn? Narn.”

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Whoa, there’s a moose, and another, and finally St. John’s!

02 Wednesday May 2012

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After escaping the clutches of the bi-churchal minister, I am now on solid ground once again, figuratively speaking, and heading back to St. John’s. I heard of a short cut that will take two hours off my impending twelve+ hour drive. Should I take it? I’ve been warned that it is not a particularly well paved road, well, not very much pavement at all – gravel really, it might be muddy and isn’t well-traveled this time if year so if you get stuck which is a very real possibility, nay probability, you could be there for a day or two, but it’s your choice. Hell, that’s no choice, that’s a challenge. I’m taking the long way home!

Yeah, right! (en.wikipedia.com)

The way I figure it, if I speed, which I will, if I continue straight through, I’ll be driving in prime moose-dodge-’em time – at speed, at night, and on the TCH, (Trans Canada Highway). Not wanting to make the acquaintance of one so large, so heavy and a poor conversationalist from what I’ve heard, I decide that I’ll probably stop for the night somewhere around Gander, a good part of the trip would be now be behind me. When you’re in a hurry, and I really wasn’t, but there was no photography planned for this leg of the trip, – I just didn’t want to drive for twelve + hours, the scenery, however beautiful, becomes secondary to the task of getting there.

I’m sailing along. Yes, speeding, but I told you I would. Fueled by chocolate covered crackers and the occasional Tim Horton‘s, I’m making some serious time. I get to Gander considerably sooner than I thought, ahh, the joys of speeding and not getting caught, and make an executive decision. Moose, be damned, I going for it all. This is the big one!

Oh, yeah! (ahwooga.com)

So, I stop for refueling – both the car and me. The car gets gas and so will I later from the food at the rest stop. Should have stayed with the chocolate covered crackers. But I endure, I must, can’t stop, have to get to St. John’s – there’s a tall, cold beer with my name on it waiting patiently for me at Christian’s Pub. Actually, the beer had some friends waiting for me too and I would get to meet them as well.

Wait, what’s that up ahead? That signpost? Sorry, channeling “Twiight Zone” for a moment. Lights! and not in the rear view mirror either. It’s St. John’s! Yes! Made it and not in twelve hours! Not in eleven hours! No, just about ten and half! I did speed. A lot. That’s 902 miles worth of speeding. I didn’t hit any moose, didn’t get stopped by the RMCP, “No, officer, I didn’t realize I was going that fast.”, and made it back in time for Happy Hour, which by the way in St. John’s is anytime from opening to closing. Finally, off the road, out of the car, and back in the warm embrace of St. John’s.

Tomorrow will be laundry, packing, FedEx, and getting ready to go back to the states. It’ll be busy, but I’ll also get to visit with Randy (my photographer friend) and his wife Vicki once more before I leave. The amount of help and guidance they provided has been invaluable and much appreciated. I will also see Bren, my 84 year old wood- turning friend, again before my departure. Bren was the first Newfoundlander but not the last to invite this stranger in for tea. I will miss them and all the other new friends made while up here. I will be back.

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The Queen’s Laundry Inspector and High Seas Confessional…

30 Monday Apr 2012

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My time photographing on Ramea has come to an end and I’m boarding the ferry Gallipoli back to the mainland of Newfoundland. It’ll be a couple of hours on the boat, disembark in Burgeo, then across the whole island once again to St. John’s. Gonna have to stop and get some chocolate covered crackers to sustain me on the trip back.

There’s not much to do on the ferry except sit and sleep, sit and watch the scenery and/or people, sit and eat, or sit and confess to the minister sitting next to me. This is the very same minister I met in church on Sunday on Ramea! She recognizes me immediately. Busted!

High seas confessional booth; doubles as a life raft… not really.

In all fairness, she’s a very nice person and from my point of view not a bad minister either. But, I was really hoping to be gently rocked to sleep by the boat’s motions, not get engaged in some ecumenical discussion of Goethe, Schleiermacher or the manichean view of right and wrong, darkness and light. (Just showing off here.) Thankfully, that is not what we talked about.

Instead, we talked about the plight of rural Newfoundland and the questionable future of communities such as Ramea. It confronts the same fishless future as all of the other outports with the added element of being an island dependent on sustenance and other commodities from the mainland. It is not a hopeful outlook. I agreed and told her that was what “Arn? Narn.” was to be about. She seemed to like the idea that this story would be told outside of Canada.

The Rev told me of some very small outports barely hanging on by their fingernails. How small? Try 8-10 people. Way too small for the government to provide services so eventually the fate awaiting them is of choice: the first is to resettle elsewhere; the other – die. Quite a template for survival and very depressing.

By and by, she told me I had created quite a stir on the island. It seems that within hours of my arrival, people were all abuzz of some guy wandering around taking pictures of laundry lines and things. (“Yes, ma’am, I’m from the Queen’s Laundry Quality Inspector’s office and your whites are quite nice really, but your colors…”).

The Queen’s Laundry Quality inspector.

It is after all a very small island. Everyone wanted to know who I was and what was I doing there. I’m sure that after my initial visit to Red’s Lounge, most fears were put aside by Gerard. Probably not yet by Jimmy.

So, when I showed up in church, they certainly wanted to know who I was and why I was there and what I was doing and where I was from and how I found out about Ramea. You know, the basic Journalism 101 questions: who, what, where, why, when, and how stuff. Now, when my new minister friend would report back to them at their next service, she could answer all their questions and confirm that she had dispatched me back to from where I’d come. Good minister!

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My own private Earth Day.

25 Wednesday Apr 2012

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Sometimes when you’re not looking or listening, the universe sneaks up and smacks you up alongside the head with a cosmic two by four. And then the realization occurs that you could have had a V8. Well no, not really a drink, but something that had been right in front of you all this time and you hadn’t even realized it.

Looks pretty much the same as it did 42 years ago.

One of these has just happened to me. As I prepare for the publication of “Arn? Narn.”, the news is filled with this being the 42nd anniversary of Earth Day. That holds a special significance to me. As a ridiculously young man, my first assignment for the newspaper I had just started working for, was to cover the very first Earth Day. At that time, no one thought that it would amount to much – just a bunch of liberal, pot smoking hippies protesting about something, again.

Little did I know or realize until just a day or so ago, how that was to affect my work from then on. Directly, the photography book “Arn? Narn.” is a result of that first assignment. That first assignment is also responsible for the next book I’m currently working on. See a theme here?

Something else of significance is that what people were sitting up and taking notice of on that first Earth Day is, to a large degree, what “Arn? Narn.” reports on. Twenty-years ago when the story I cover in “Arn? Narn.” first occurs, it was largely over-looked outside of Newfoundland, Canada. It has become a global cautionary tale which only recently has begun to get worldwide visibility.

Little is more important that preserving our world so our children, their children and so on, will have a home. I am not taking a political stand here. That’s too easy a subject with too many moving parts for me to comprehend. At the end of the day, I am nothing more than a photo-journalist hopefully reporting and recording life’s events honestly; my personal agenda (if indeed I even have one) would not be worthy of publication.

Jim S., a reader of this blog reminded me of something I recently wrote: “Be open to all the possibilities travel will afford you.” For this entry, I amend that: “Be open to all the possibilities life will afford you.” You never know where they’ll take you, but it will be worth the journey. Thank you Mother Earth and Jim.

A thundering herd of…one?

23 Monday Apr 2012

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As I would have done it. (chinamike)

My one-man invasion of Ramea is complete. I had taken the island by storm (yeah, right!) and it is mine…on film at least. There were no hostages taken except my heart to these wonderful people.

As I did do it. Sort of, but with a smile.

I’ve learned a lot on this little island. Who knew you could buy burial caskets at the supermarket? And they’ll store them for you until the ground thaws. Come springtime though, you’re on your own.

A song sung with enthusiasm (or very loudly) is just as good as a song sung well. Just sing it with conviction. An instrument helps too.

In the late hours of a kitchen party, you’ll be amazed that so much incredible and undiscovered talent can be found in one small room. And they get even more talented as the night wears on.

Buying drinks for strangers works as well in Newfoundland as anywhere else. Just don’t be stingy. And if you don’t understand what they’re saying, buy ‘em another drink. Before long, they won’t understand what you’re saying either.

I learned that one should never turn down a moose burger. It’s bad form. It’s not as good as caribou, but it won’t harm you. On the other hand, all your vegan friends will probably never talk to you again.

One should also never refuse a drink if offered. That’s very bad form. You will not be invited back and nor should you. There’s a reason why we’re told not to drink alone.

In Newfoundland, one should make every effort to talk with strangers. You’ll learn so much, you’ll probably make a new friend, and at the very least, they will invite you in for tea. Really.

Be open to all the possibilities that travel will afford you. You won’t regret it. Of course, if someone tells you not to go to a particular neighborhood, that’s probably a good idea. Let me amend something I just said, be open to most of the possibilities.

So the “invasion” is over. Tomorrow I leave…with a lot of wonderful memories and stories, a few new friends, and some great (I hope) photographs for “Arn? Narn.”.

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Fame! I’m gonna live forever!

19 Thursday Apr 2012

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Or so goes the title song from the movie “Fame”. It is still several months away from the publication of my photography book “Arn? Narn.”. Yet, even this far out, interrupting of what I’m sure for my dear readers is a riveting accounting of my travails in the darkroom, I am cranking up the star-making machinery (thanks to Joni for that!) in advance for the book.

Considering how early this is, I am meeting with some local success in planning my public relations assault on an unsuspecting world. The largest locally owned bookstore will do a book signing event. (Helpful holiday gift buying tip – these make wonderful gifts. If you buy only one gift this year concerning Newfoundland, this is the one to get.) To prepare, I’ll be practicing writing pithy notes onto the front page of each book for the wise, talented, extremely gifted, and good-looking buyer.

Also this week, the local NPR station has agreed to do an interview with me concerning the book. Now I’ll have to practice sounding lucid and to watch my language. After all, there might be children listening. I’ll be expounding on Newfoundland and the subject of this book. (If you read only one book about Newfoundland this year, “Arn? Narn.” should be it.)

And all of this has happened before any of the major world news outlets have heard about it! Wait, is that a film crew outside my door? (If you see only one movie this year about Newfoundland,…) What? Reuters wants to talk with me? Huh?, “Top Gear” wants to do a special with me in Newfoundland? OK, yes, I got carried away a little.

This whole process is entirely new to me. While it took me a year to do my initial research on Newfoundland before venturing up there, I don’t have the luxury of time in learning to do self PR. This is a make-it-up-as-you-go-along course. Ahhh, yet another skill I’ll be able to add to my resume.

And now we return you to the originally scheduled blog “arnnarn.com”.

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Billy Joel, I ain’t. Not even Tiny Tim! Or “Uptown Girl” meets Miss Vicki and hilarity ensues.

16 Monday Apr 2012

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Ah, the infamous kitchen parties with which I was to become intimately familiar and soon. Like now!?

I meet Gerard over at Red’s, of course and where else?, and we go over to his house and have a beer before we head to the kitchen party and start to get serious about this. If there is ever an Olympic event for partying, the gold and silver medals go to Australians and Newfoundlanders – and not necessarily in that order.

A kitchen party is a rather organic happening. They spring up quickly, not like a flash mob though, and everyone goes. It is a most democratic event. You come, you bring food and/or drink, you talk, joke, tell outrageous stories, sing, dance maybe, and have a hell of a good time. They start sometime in the evening, there is no official start time, just as there is no official or expected finish time. They’ve been know to go to 6 or 7 in the morning! That is a lot of food, drink, socializing, etc. This will be perfect material for my book. I’ll be photographing all night!

We arrive and a drink is promptly inserted into my unsuspecting but not unwilling hand. Toasts are made. Let’s get this party started!

What I did not know, or what my trusty “guide books” failed to tell me of, is that if one is attending a kitchen party, then they have the responsibility of singing a song, telling a story or jokes, playing a musical instrument, or performing any such sort of entertainment of which they are capable – inebriated or not! Inebriated generally makes for a much more lively performance, or so it seems.

I’m not Billy Joel by a long shot. (diggz.org)

I don’t really sing. Not even in the shower. I don’t play an instrument unless you count the stereo. I did not know these folks well enough to tell some of the jokes I might, though I suspect they would have appreciated some of them very much. From my previous trip to Newfoundland, I had picked up some CD’s of local music and had miraculously learned a few of the songs! “Do you know ‘Rant and Roar’? ” I ask. They respond, “y’mean the ‘Ryans and the Pittman’s?’ ” “Yes! That’s it” We both launch into the song, not really performing together, style is not as important as enthusiasm here, and we finish – both with appreciation: me for getting through it; them for me not singing any longer.

I’m not even Tiny Tim, but probably closer to him. (lyrics.wikia.com)

As the night wore on, some of the party’ers were asking if I was able to understand Gerard’s speaking. I told them yes, I was, pretty much able to. I did mention Jimmy, the suspicious drinker at Red’s, and I could understand almost nothing he said. This brought on tons of laughs as someone responded to me: “That’s OK. No one understands Jimmy!” And here I thought it was just me.

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Ah, spirit… after church and now at Red’s.

12 Thursday Apr 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Humor, Newfoundlanders

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Filled with the spirit from the Sunday morning church service, I now wander, in search of lunch and additional spirit, over to Red’s to see if indeed they’re open. Indeed they are.

In the previous post I mentioned someone was eyeing me while I sat having a beer at Red’s, not necessarily with bad intent, but certainly suspiciously. He was mumbling something I couldn’t hear. If not a Jethro Tull fan, maybe he was a Monty Python fan, thought I was a witch, and consequently should be burned. Could be, right?

He turns around and mumbles something to someone who turns out to be Gerard, my new best friend on Ramea. Gerard laughs and comes over to me to tell me what’s going on. He says Jimmy, the starer, is concerned about me: I’m not from there; why am I there?; what do I want? Gerard assured him I was OK, (it helps to have friends in high places!) and that he should come over and Gerard would introduce us to each other. Gerard, the quintessential Newfoundlander, was just being nice and paving the way for open communications between foreign countries.

He signals Jimmy to come over and meet the tall, handsome stranger. (That was another stranger, not me.) Gerard does the introductions while Jimmy eyes me up one side and down the other. If you notice, Jimmy does a lot of eyeing. So, “Jimmy, this is Bruce. He’s OK, he’s a friend, don’t worry. Bruce, meet Jimmy.” So it went. I said hello, Jimmy mumbled something, Gerard left to talk with some others. Jimmy mumbled some more.

Wanting to put Jimmy at ease, I did what any self-respecting traveler should do in this instance, I offered to buy him a drink. Along with the drink, it would buy me a little credibility as well. Jimmy nodded and mumbled something again. Jimmy eyes and mumbles a lot.

Jimmy sits down, eyes his beer (there he goes again), eyes me, and mumbles something about Gerard. I pick up on that and answer that yes, Gerard is a fine man, loves his mother and the Queen, has never kicked an animal, some such thing because I’m not sure what I would say would even be comprehended. I could hardly understand one tenth of the words Jimmy was saying. This was not going to be easy. Jimmy understood me quite well and downed the drink quickly. I think he wanted another… all in the spirit of foreign diplomacy, I’m sure.

Gerard has obviously been watching this clumsy, bi-lingual (?) pas de deux in which Jimmy and I are involved. In any dance, there is the one who leads and the other who follows. In this case, neither happened as neither was possible. Gerard, our new dance master, came over to help interpret. It became clear that Jimmy and I went to different dance schools and the steps were completely foreign to us both.

This went on for a while until Jimmy was satisfied I was not going to lead an invasion of the island of Ramea. Thusly pacified, he wandered off to mumble something and stare at someone else.

Gerard was laughing and grinning through much of this. It was getting on to suppertime and he asked if I had plans for the evening. I told him nothing that couldn’t be moved – oh, like I have a lot to do here among strangers. He invited me to join him later in an age old Newfoundland tradition – a kitchen party. I had read about these so I had an inkling of what went on, but only an inkling! I was to discover that these people would be strangers no more.

Losing my religion… not exactly.

09 Monday Apr 2012

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It’s Sunday morning. I had my coffee, it’s just grey outside, too early for Red’s (do they open on Sunday?), too early for most things after a kitchen party.

So I’m wandering around on a rather quiet morning and notice a small but steady stream of people walking towards something. To where? I’ll follow in my stealth photographer’s mode, trying not to let my cameras hit against each other too loudly and give my surveillance away. Why look, they must be god-fearing folks as they’re all going to church. Some turn around and see me. So much for being unobtrusive.

“How will you know them?” Courtesy Anglican Mainstream

So, hi-ho, hi-ho, I guess it’s off to church I go. A little church never hurt anyone, right? I follow them in and sit in the back as appropriate for a camera-toting reprobate such as myself. I did say it was grey outside. It was even greyer inside. This was looking like one of the older chapters of the Canadian AARP. It appears the younger Rameans have other things to do on Sunday morning. Like recovering from kitchen parties maybe?

It was a large, beautiful, old church, the kind one might find in fishing villages anywhere. But because of the lack of fishing and the loss of population, it was operating on a much smaller budget. In the winter, when I was there, they would close the main floor with the sanctuary in order to save money on heat. Consequently, they worshiped on a ground level meeting room. It was pretty standard Anglican fare. Nothing terribly unfamiliar, but none of the awe-inspiring trappings usually associated with a lot of churches. Come to think of it, it reminded me of many of the churches I’d seen in New England – plain, austere, and somewhat spartan.

The church members, being Newfoundlanders (obviously!), were all friendly but somewhat reserved. Q: Who comes to church with cameras on them? A: I do. That’s not exactly what people expect to find when they go their house of worship. (God is watching and he sent me to get proof!)

I stayed around a bit after the service and spoke with some members as well of the minister. She was a very busy woman. On alternating Sundays, she preached at the Catholic Church elsewhere on the island. I hope she never got her liturgy confused – might upset some of the folk, you know.

Like other times while in Newfoundland you would meet the same person again, I would run into her again, but elsewhere. It is a small world, but Ramea makes it even smaller.

Part 2: Kicking back at Red’s Lounge…

03 Tuesday Apr 2012

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The afternoon was spent walking around the island taking pictures of local signage, laundry lines, wind turbines, boats (mostly in dry dock as there was no fishing here either), and coves. If it moved I photographed it. If it stood still, I photographed it. Yup, there I was again, taking pictures of nothing! But really good pictures of nothing if I say so myself. It moved, it stood still, it was a wind turbine, I photographed it.

Sidebar -There’s a woman who paints all the house numbers and signs and mailboxes on the island; a limited growth opportunity indeed, yet the local art scene is definitely defined by her! And it was sort of like being in her island-wide showroom. She was that prolific. Certainly she had her themes down: boats, flags, fish, propellers, anchors, etc.

So the light was now fading and I wasn’t far behind it. I was in need of sustenance and it was too early to go back to the B&B for a formal dinner. Since I now knew the island like the back of my hand, it was back to Red’s. I was going to check out if they had any beer left. Photographing clotheslines creates a mighty thirst.

Lucky for me they had some left. I was welcomed back by Gerard and the locals (sounds like a perfect bar band!) whom I’d met earlier and introduced to some new (to me) citizens. Someone had gone hunting and brought back some fresh moose meat. They had the aforethought to grind it up, make mooseburgers, and serve them to customers. And that’s how I came to have my first (and probably last) mooseburger. It was OK if you don’t mind eating the inspiration for a cartoon, but personally, I liked caribou better. (Please don’t tell my fiends at PETA!)

As I mentioned earlier, I stood out. I was not from there and one citizen had taken note of that and his concern was quite obvious. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to the others, but the not-so-furtive and mildly hostile glances could not be overlooked. Hmmmm – what to do? It would clear soon enough.

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Holding my breath.

02 Monday Apr 2012

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When I started this photography book project, it (not unlike Newfoundland in the stamp above) seems like a millennium ago. The possibility of publication seemed like such a distant dream. Over time, each one of the goals had been met leading to last summer’s signing of my first book contract. My publisher, Gosslee, has now given me a publication date and it’s going to be here before I know it. Come September 1, 2012, “Arn? Narn.” will be published. It’s unbelievable.

And yet, unbelievably, there is still work to do. How will the world find out about it’s inherent wonderfulness, much less its’ existence? Where and how will it be available? What kind of promotional activity can I give it? Who will play me in the movie version? That last one’s a joke, really.

Though the publication is now imminent, there is still much to write about in this blog. If you’ve been following it, you know I’m still in Newfoundland on the island of Ramea, ensconced at Red’s Lounge. Much, much more to write about. I think I may only be halfway there on this accounting. My intention is to continue well after publication. There will be more stories to share: a new one on Tuesday as a matter of fact. I invite you all to join me as this journey continues.

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Number 9, number 9…

30 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in Black and White Photography, Newfoundland, Photography Book

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No, it’s not the Beatles’ song “Number 9.” It’s a goal.

Over the past few months, I’ve been blogging about Newfoundland, its charms, quirkiness, and its overall wonderfulness… all in advance of my book “Arn? Narn.” As followers of this blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.” (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland.

In this effort to help promote the book “Arn? Narn.”, I’m seeking to get a significant amount of followers to the blog. Currently, I’m only  away from my new target. Become that th follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. Just go fill in your e-mail address on the “Follow” section and hit the follow button. (No one will contact you unless of course you are #.) It’s that easy. No counting, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.

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Kicking back at Red’s Lounge, meeting the locals, being told where to go (in the nicest way possible, this is Newfoundland after all), and having my first beer in Ramea. Part 1.

27 Tuesday Mar 2012

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When traveling, one of the best ways to get the feel, the flavor, and the social climate of a new locale is to visit the local watering hole. And on Ramea. the best one is Red’s Lounge. Red’s being the best bar/lounge is not only my opinion, it’s also the opinion of all the locals and they should know. It wins hands down and the reason is quite simple – it’s the only bar on Ramea. And though it’s the only pub on the island, it’s not open everyday or all hours. The owner works at an oil company and that job comes first. Priorities – we all have them but I wish his matched mine better.

As in my trip to Fogo Island a week earlier, I needed to get to know the “powers-that-be” in Ramea. Since whoever wore the mantle of he/she-that-counts-as-the-big-cheese-or-poobah-of-the-island was not to be found, I did the next best thing. I went to Red’s. it was lunchtime after all and the light wouldn’t be good until 2:00 PM. Ahhh, the life of the photographer!

Certainly in an outport/island such as Ramea, a stranger stands out even if they’re not in a bar. As in the TV show “Cheers”, everyone knows your name and it wasn’t long before almost everyone knew mine. Hell, you walk into any place with cameras dangling all over you and people look up and take notice.

Before long, maybe at least two or three minutes(!), I was being “interrogated” by the locals. Actually, befriended is a much, much better description but not as humorous. The first of my “interrogators”, sorry,that’s friends, was Gerard. Gerard, born and raised on Ramea, was thrilled to have someone new to talk with. As in any bar anywhere, it’s the same people and the same stories, over and over again. I was going to be entertainment or least a source of new stories. Hey, their stories were new to me! That should count for something.

  So, over a beer or two, maybe three of the locally brewed Quidi Vidi variety, Gerard filled me on all the poop. Who was who in the bar, what people did, local color, etc. For me, he was a font of information – some of it was useful immediately, some not until later that day, but I was not to know that at the time. However, Red’s was to become my base of local operations for the time I would be there. In the meantime, I would need to get outside to photograph while the light was getting better. It turned out that they had a hell of lot more beer left than I did light.

Is that an asterisk or are you just happy to see me?

26 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Black and White Photography, Newfoundland, Photography Book

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Over the past few months, I’ve been blogging about Newfoundland, its charms, quirkiness, and its overall wonderfulness… all in advance of my book “Arn? Narn.”* As followers of this blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.”** (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland. And it, with a little bit of shameless self-promotion, I think is quite handsome. Thankfully, so does the publisher.

What is this all about?

So, here’s the deal. In this effort to help promote the book “Arn? Narn.”***, I’m seeking to get a significant amount of followers to the blog. Currently, I’m 11 away from my new target. Become that 11th follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”****, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #11, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. That’s it. Nothing to buy. Just go fill in your e-mail address, (no coupons necessary, no one will contact you with unbelievable offers of real estate, time shares, aid for underprivileged children in Beverly Hills,  – we will leave you alone, unless of course you are #11), hit the follow button. That’s all there is to it to get a free copy of the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.”*****

* – You may be wondering what all the asterisks are for – just an official count of times “Arn? Narn.” was written. Ooops, that’s now ******! Gotta stop that!

Enter the Wanderer with apologies to Bruce Lee…

22 Thursday Mar 2012

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Sounds sort of like a bad Bruce Lee film, doesn’t it? But, there are no flying fists, no crouching tigers, no leaping lizards, none of that stuff…just good old Newfoundland and its’ people.

I’m now ensconced on the small island of Ramea and have started to walk around the island, it IS small, and photograph. One of the first things I noticed on the ferry on my way in, is a collapsed fish processing plant, a fishery. It collapsed physically, but it is as good as any symbol of what has happened to the fishing industry. I could not have asked for a better opportunity to illustrate what has happened here. But Ramea is so much more than that, though its’ fate remains so tied to it.

Rendering of a fishery.

As  I mentioned earlier, one passes through a beautiful archipelago on the way in. It was so unexpected as to create a disconnect. “Hello, that number you’re calling is no longer in service.” That’s how I felt. In my modest research over the years, I believed that one found archipelagos in Japan, Indonesia, Scotland even. But Newfoundland, really? Oh, yeah. Yes, Toto, this isn’t Kansas anymore.

Ramea itself is a small, quaint even, little island if not for the oil tank graveyard I was currently photographing. I’ll tell you right now though, there are no photographs of those in this part of this journey. While I tip-toed around the tanks, respectfully trying not to wake them, I came up on a local who in true Newfoundland tradition was more than happy to talk with me. He gave me a little current history of the island and some recommendations: there was an ocean walk to take – check; don’t miss the wind turbine farm – check; Red’s Lounge – check and double check (can’t miss that!); the Anglican Church – check, but on Sunday of course; supermarket – check; and other places that were meaningless to me at the time.

I was into my wandering big time now. As I’ve written earlier, there I was taking pictures of nothing and really loving it.

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Abducted by sea turtles AND the talk of the town.

19 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Geography, History, Humor, Observations, Photography, Travel

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With all apologies to the bard (Ramea, O’ Ramea, where art thou O’ Ramea?), Ramea is a small island off the southern coast of Newfoundland and I arrived safely on the good ship (well, ferry) Gallipoli. For those who may be history minded, Gallipoli is the name of a horrible battle in World War I in which allied soldiers were brutally massacred because of an incredibly dumb decision. It was also a movie starring the then uncontroversial and better-looking actor Mel Gibson. And Gallipoli was the boat of which I just got off! Should I have read something into that? Time enough to ponder as I’ll be getting back on it to return to the Newfoundland mainland in a few days.

Approaching Ramea, one travels though a beautiful though unexpected archipelago. It was a wonderful greeting. The only thing missing were giant sea turtles, but for all I knew they may have been laying in wait to ambush me and make mock-Bruce soup. Hey, it could happen.

This was going to be very cool. Ramea is a very small island, populated by about 600 people. At it’s peak in the early 1970′s, it had about double that, but when the fish were gone, half the populace followed. Yet, it holds on. There is a music festival, like so many other Newfoundland outports, in August. And there are a number of outdoor activities in which one can indulge. The electricity is furnished by a small wind turbine farm. OK, so much for the Chamber of Commerce business.

As I’ve come to learn and appreciate and obsessively seek out, the best activity of all in Newfoundland is talking and partying with Newfoundlanders, everywhere! And that more than anything would define this part of the journey. Oh, the photographs would be taken. And with the certainty of only those of the pure of heart and who sleep like babies, I knew they would be good. I didn’t really, I hoped they would be good. But I’m rambling. The beer would be drunk, but not I, oh, no! Moose what would be eaten. Sorry, Squirrel. More on that later,

I checked into the B&B on Ramea, unpacked, and then started out on which was to be my newest adventure. Without giving too much away, must be frugal with my words here, I was to see clothes-lines, coffins, windmills, hand-painted signs, a bar, so much more and unbeknownst to me at the time, become the talk of the island.

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And now a word from our sponsor….

16 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in Photography Book, Uncategorized

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This entry is a bit of a departure from all my previous posts. Rather than writing about my experiences in Newfoundland producing the upcoming photography book, “Arn? Narn.”, I have a wonderful update about it to share with all of you. As this is all electronic, there is no postage necessary. But for an illustration, I’m using an old Newfoundland postage stamp. The image on the stamp says it all: cod. For those who have been following this blog, that will be no surprise. For those new to arnnarn.com, hurry up and catch up!

My publisher, Gosslee, is in the final stages of design and the first galleys should be ready to review shortly. Publication is now set for late August or early September of this year. That feels like almost tomorrow.

Yet, there is still much to write about “Arn? Narn.” before publication. In the months to come, I’ll be introducing you to phantom sea turtles, Jimmy Pink, indecipherable Newfoundland English (even by Newfoundlanders!), kitchen parties, Red’s Lounge, local notoriety (mine!), and much more. And that’s even before I get home to start the next phase of the book.

Stay tuned (is that even applicable any more?), it should be fun!

Look boss, the plane, the plane! No, Tattoo, that’s a boat!

14 Wednesday Mar 2012

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Burgeo, on the southern coast. (From Sailblogs.)

Made it to Burgeo after a gruesomely long drive. The good news is that where I was off to next to photograph was a very small island, Ramea, on which I would be walking almost everywhere. The bad new is that when I got back to Newfoundland proper, I had an even longer trip back to St. John’s, but that’s for another post.

I found my B&B and checked in. Martine, my host was very friendly, showed me to my room, and offered some suggestions as to where I might find dinner. There were two options – both named after their proprietors- Joy’s Place and Sharon’s Diner. Sharon was off somewhere and was closed so it was to Joy’s Place which was closer anyway. Joy wasn’t in either (were Joy and Sharon running errands together?) so I couldn’t send my compliments to the chef, so I left a nice tip instead.

I returned to my B&B and had some wine with Martine. my host. We talked about Burgeo and what had brought me there. She told me that Burgeo was very old, about  500 years, but it was only incorporated in 1950 and was basically a fishing village until 1992 when the moratorium was put into place. Then it too went through all the difficulties the rest of the province did. It’s a sweet place with a couple of restaurants, a school, all the things one would expect to find pretty much anywhere, except they don’t have the view that Burgeo does. Take that world!

(From Wikipedia)

So, right now, it’s the perfect place to catch my breath before getting on another boat on my way to Ramea. Remind me why I’m doing this.

(Courtesy Newfoundland & Labrador)

Oh yeah, this’ll be fun.

Me and Homer….no, not Simpson!

12 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Food, Geography, Observations, Photography Book, Travel

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Now that I’d returned to the mainland which is Newfoundland proper, I was to head to the southern coast of Newfoundland to catch another ferry to another island. Yeah, yeah, I know…

(Courtesy Terry’s Bayside Getaway)

But, I had a lot a traveling to do in front of me. First south, then west, then southeast, and then finally south again until I reached where I would spend the night before getting on the boat. And that would take the entire day. A very long day. Aw c’mon, this can’t be the way to Burgeo, can it?

Before I proceed with this retelling of Homer’s Odyssey, let me recap some earlier posts for background material. First, Newfoundland is big…damn big. Secondly, much of it is still wild without a lot of settlement on it save for the coasts. Third, there aren’t many places to stop for food, directions, or even meaningless conversations over coffee. When you do find a place, make sure you get some take along food and drink, anything. For me it was chocolate-covered cookies and water. Did I mention it’s big? Fourth, where you can stop will probably have the most bizarre collection of chips available, that you might not want to sample unless you’ll be near a toilet. Fifth, while the maps are quite accurate, nothing prepares you for the enormous space similar to going what Australians call their Outback but here is just out there and out there are absolutely no kangaroos. Sorry, Mate! Hopefully you get the picture. I did mention it’s big, didn’t I?

This is the first time I’d be traveling in Newfoundland without a view of the sea nearby and that’s a bit disconcerting. All my previous travels here have never been far away from water and I’m missing the outports and all their character and stories.

Just brush, bogs, some trees, and a lot of rock. (Courtesy Natural Resources Canada)

While the original intent for my book “Arn? Narn?” was to be an exploration of isolation, nothing had prepared me for this. This part of the island is rugged and almost barren; more rock than brush, some trees, many bogs, few seen moose or caribou, and lonely, very lonely. There was no radio reception out here and I was grateful for the working cd player. And because it was so remote, beyond what the odometer told me, I had no real idea of where I was going. Friends have also told me that, but I digress. And the cookies were running perilously low. If I was going to find my way back, I would probably need them for crumbs to leave a trail.

Onward I drove. From Fogo though Birchy Bay, Norris Arm, to Deer Lake through to Pasadena (no I couldn’t have traveled that far!) then Corner Brook, right hand turn at Barachois Pond Provincial Park into Burgeo, my resting place for the night. Well over 650 miles this day. Resting place indeed. Try crash and burn and wake me next year place. But I won’t need any more cookies for this part of the trip, oh no, – I’m going on another boat! Maybe some Dramamine though.

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Bartender to me – “Would you like that on the rocks?” Not funny.

08 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Humor, Photography, Sea, Travel

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Now, I’m not going to say I was feeling Like Leonardo in the movie. Nor was there, regrettably, a counterpart to Kate Winslet standing bravely by my side either. But, I was on a boat in the seas off Newfoundland and there was a lot of ice in the water. And it was in early April. Draw your own conclusions.

No, I was now leaving Fogo Island for the second part of this trip. Obviously being on this island meant I was going to have to take a boat ride back to the main and much larger island of Newfoundland proper. It was a ferry in actuality, a not very large one, and it took a couple of hours.

The ferry.

The Titanic – see any difference?

Earlier I wrote about the arctic ice pack that had come in and locked up the harbors. For a large ship as my hopefully sea- and ice-worthy ferry was, this would – should be an uneventful trip.

It’s pretty common knowledge that what you see of an iceberg above the surface of the sea is only 10% of it’s size. The remaining, evil, waiting to sink unsuspecting ships, part constitutes the other 90%. Remember, the ice pack, unlike a lot of doctors, is in!

An artists’ idea of an iceberg

So, me and a bunch of other intrepid travelers including their cars, (that’ll make the ship sink faster, won’t it?) drive on and take our places on the ferry. The driveway (?) pulls up, seals the then-open end of the ship and we shove off from shore. (Wait, I think I left my toothbrush at the B&B!)

I’m not normally apprehensive about sea travel. I’ve been on ferries before! But not through icebergs. Alright, they weren’t icebergs – more like a continuous seascape of floes, large, heavy, really white, and cold ice floes. And 90% of each one could not be seen! Yes, this was a steel hulled ship; and yes, it did this every year, but… Hey, wait, every year? How strong could this barge still be?

We plowed through the ice pack slowly; the floes grinding loudly against the hull; some so large that you could feel the ship shift from THEIR weight and mass. Oh, sweet mother… two more hours of this.

Not surprisingly, we made it safely. I got some good pictures. But throughout that whole trip, at no time did I ever want to climb up on the hull and yell “I’m king of the world!” Nor did I hear Celine Dion singing in the background. There is a God after all.

No, no, no… please, I insist, after you.

06 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundlanders, Observations, Travel

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It is a stereotype that Canadians are among the friendliest and politest people on the planet. But, as a stereotype, that tends to put everything into a one-size-fits-all category. The truth of the matter is that Canadians ARE some of the friendliest and politest people around, bar none. Funny, too. Great music also. I could go on.

It’s almost as if it’s a law that they dare not break or even bend. One will see and experience this on a day-to-day basis just in visiting stores and offices even government ones! But, it is also manifested in a way different from any other I’ve experienced. Now, this becomes a chicken or an egg issue. (No, not the political football being tossed around currently.) Which came first?

What I’m referring to is the highway system – specifically the TCH or Trans-Canada Highway. In Newfoundland, (I can’t speak to other provinces on this issue as not having visited in many years), the THC crosses the entire island and driving it is at a comfortable 110 kph or about 65 miles per hour. People do speed on it and risk being pulled over by the RCMP – but they will be accosted politely.

In the course of photographing for this book, I’d spend many hours and many more miles on the TCH. It is largely a two lane highway, one way; each way – unless there is room for a passing lane. And that is just what it is – a passing lane. Used for passing and passing only unlike here in the US where the passing lane is considered a through lane. Drivers actually use it to pass and then they almost immediately move over. They do not hog the lane. They do not speed up to prevent you from passing them. Hell, if you want to pass them at higher speed (and risk hitting a moose), why go ahead, after you, please, we insist. They’re serious about this politeness, even on the highways. It’s…refreshing.

So, we can count friendly, musically-inclined, funny, AND polite driving as typical Canadian traits. And if Canadians are some the friendliest, etc., then Newfoundlanders take it even further. There is something to be learned from this.

Canary in the global coal mine.

05 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Fish, Food, History, Newfoundland

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Currently indigenous to Newfoundland are moose, caribou, salmon, and some remaining cod. There are no naturally residing canaries on the island. However, in this case, the island itself was the canary.

Why is Newfoundland important? In much the same way the canary in a coal mine is important. That bird is an early warning of impending trouble. Ignore it at your own peril. In 1992, that is what happened in Newfoundland. Heard, seen, and ignored – just the opposite of the military phrase HUA(!) – Heard, Understood and Acknowledged. They (the government) heard the canary, saw it laying there, and essentially said, “Don’t pay that any attention” until it was too late. It was mismanagement writ large.

So, what was this canary? It was the disappearance of cod stocks. Stocks that had been fished for over 500 years and sustained Newfoundland throughout that time. Then in 1992, the government realized that the cod stocks had plummeted to perilously low levels and imposed a 10 year moratorium on cod fishing. Historically, they knew if left alone for 5-6 years, the stocks should return to previous levels. They didn’t. In actuality, they were in worse shape than before.

In those first 10 years, because there was no fishing, 20% of Newfoundland’s population left the island. It was an out-migration the likes of which had never been seen. And the lack of fishing created much hardship throughout the province. Newfoundlanders continue leaving the island in search of work returning occasionally for vacation. The Newfoundland musical group Ennis addresses this beautifully in their song, “Fortunate Ones.”

Now 20 years later, the moratorium is still in place. But then in 2006, 14 years after the original moratorium was put in place, Professor Boris Worm of Dalhousie University in Nova Scotia published a paper that received world-wide notice. In this paper he predicted that by the middle of this century, the entire global stock of wild fish will be in total collapse. This is certainly the result of over-fishing; there is also growing evidence that ocean acidification may be contributing to this as well. Either way one looks at it, both of those causes are man-made.

The “canary” was laying there, gasping for breath and people essentially just walked on by. It has taken too long to realize what this means.

In the short term, forget about your seafood dinner, that isn’t going to happen unless you’ll be willing to take out a mortgage on it. Any fish we’ll have will come from farmed stocks and their purity is suspect.

In the long term, your guess is as good as anyone’s. No one knows what will happen to the seas themselves because of this shock to its eco-system.

So much for Red Lobster!

“Arn? Narn.” Do you feel lucky?

03 Saturday Mar 2012

Posted by in Black and White Photography, Newfoundland, Photography Book

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This is a different post than usual. I’m seeking to get more followers to this blog. Currently, I’m only 21 away from my target number.

An old Newfoundland flag.

As followers of my blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.” (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland. And with a little bit of shameless self-promotion, I think is quite handsome. Thankfully, so does the publisher.

So, here’s the deal. Become that 21st follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #21, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. That’s it. Nothing to buy. No entry blanks. No hoops to jump through. One size really does fit all.

So you have to ask yourself one question, “Do I feel lucky?” Thanks, Clint.

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