Tag Archives: Fog

Watching the fog roll around and drinking wine.

26 Thursday Jul 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Travel

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After the initial concussion of our cottage by the bay, Carla and I are acting like we live there. We could do this – downsize and do it here. We don’t need all: the clothes, furniture, tchotchkes, appliances, whatever that we have. This is life simplified. This is life without pretense, life without malls, life without Walmart. This is good.

We go to the general store up the road for all the immediate essentials we need. We get to know the shopkeeper by name. That’s easy – this is Newfoundland after all. How many times have I said that? But it’s true. We chat daily and she shares with us her nephew is in a band (all teenagers) and we ought to buy their new CD. We do. It’s really good! No, it’s very good. The group is called Eventide and they’ve recorded a number of traditional Newfoundland folk songs. We play it a lot. Even the record store in St. John’s carries it. How cool is that?

Eventide CD (freds.nf.net)

Newfoundland doesn’t have some of the hangups the US does. Admittedly, there are some states which are more liberal than others, but I’m not talking politically. I’m talking about what are reasonable expectations. If you want to buy hard liquor along with wine and beer, go to the government store for the best selection. If you just want to buy some beer or some wine, hell, then just go to the general store and get some. What’s the big deal?

It was no big deal. It was late in the afternoon, we had done about as much traveling as we wanted to, so off to the general store and pick up a bottle or two of wine. If you’re a practicing locavore, try the Canadian Jackson Trigg wine, it’s surprisingly good and affordable. So we did. Or if you’re into beer, Quidi Vidi brewery out of St. John ‘s makes some mighty fine brews. Yes, I can attest to imbibing both of those.

Oh, yeah, good stuff. (signalblog.ca)

With our larder thus and properly stocked, we went home. It was just as well. It was getting on to dusk and a fog was rolling in. Time to get out on the porch, crack open a bottle of wine, sit back, listen to the waves, watch the fog make everything look mysterious and romantic at the same time and very much alive.

Yes, life is good.

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Ghosts of the Battery.

26 Saturday Nov 2011

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, History, Newfoundland, Observations, Sea, Uncategorized, Weather

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During my research, I learned about Cape Spear being the eastern-most part of the North American continent. It’s actually closer to Ireland than to other parts of Canada. I think there is a certain Newfoundland pride in that fact.

This is where the sun shines first, (remember 2.5 hours ahead of Central Time), on the continent each day. When it shines. It gets a jump on the day before most of us are even considering getting out of bed. On the other hand, some of us might just be getting in. After all, the night life goes on long and strong in St. John’s. The day I visited was socked in pretty good with fog. Have I mentioned I really love the fog? (11.14.11 post). Down in St. John’s that morning, it was sunny and pleasant. The drive up to Cape Spear (only 9 miles) was different: very foggy and a good deal colder. Arriving, there was a real visual sense of foreboding. The fog changed everything.

It was much colder because of the fog. The sea roar sounded a lot louder as well. And the wind was anything but gentle. But the piece-de-resistance was the optical illusion the fog created. Getting out of the car and approaching the cliff, the sea appeared to rise vertically behind the lighthouse. It was as an actual seawall was towering before me. Coupled with the amplified sound of the sea, a buffeting wind, and the colder temperatures, this was an incredibly sensual yet disconcerting experience.

Sharing geography on Cape Spear is an old World War Two artillery battery housing two ten inch guns constructed to protect St. John’s harbor. The guns have been neutered but still, silently, are on eternal watch duty. Connected by underground tunnels it would be easy to imagine the soldiers huddled against the cold at their posts. The tunnels show the wear and tear of time and weather and are just waiting to be used in the next M. Night Shyamalan film. In the mercurial light and patterns of the fog, one can almost see the ghosts waiting, listening, ready. What tricks of the eye did the fog play then?

Sinking in the fog.

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundland, Observations, Uncategorized

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What is it about fog that lends itself to: romance; fear; danger; mystery; sadness; and a whole host of other emotions? Personally, I like fog. I like how it quietly transforms whatever it envelops into something new and somewhat other-worldly. It lends itself to the imagination. Sounds change. Landscapes can disappear, reappear, and disappear once again as if attempting to hide themselves and their secrets. It is the stuff of Sherlock Holmes.

One evening while sitting in a St. John’s restaurant situated on top of a hill, I watched the fog slowly climb up that hill as if devouring everything in in its path. It was like watching a city sink into a calm sea. With it came the transformation of sight and sound. Fog horns, doleful sounding all on their own, took on a particularly melancholy tone. Street lights became Spielbergian in quality with an anticipation of something unexpected and not necessarily good about to happen. People magically appear out of nowhere, as if lurking, waiting for the right moment to reveal their intentions.

As a come-from-away (not from Newfoundland), I enjoy the fog. Newfoundlanders, not so much. It makes fishing and driving that much more dangerous and slow. It also obscures the sun. In a land of rain, snow, and fog, the sun is much desired. When it shines on Newfoundland, it is glorious and friendly. I like the sun too, but the mystery inherent in fog calls to me.