RDF

I am sure some of you are wondering where the heck we went, and why there haven't been any posts in a while.  The reasons may be obvious to some, but for the remainder I will elaborate.   The main issue at hand is that with the arrival of late fall, there is an overwhelming change in the weather.   I have always affectionately referred to this weather as 'RDF'.  Don't jump to profanity, or other crude abbreviations, it is simply Rain. Drizzle. Fog.

Newfies and anyone living on the south coast of Nova Scotia know what I speak of.  The rest of you have no earthly comprehension.   We love it here, and have settled in well, yet it is nearly impossible to haul ourselves out of the house when RDF strikes.   I am sure some of you think that we are simply being wimpy or just plain lazy.  As I said, no earthly comprehension.

RDF on Fogo this time of the year normally consists of temperatures between 1 and 3 degrees celsius, fog so thick you can cut it with a knife, and for good measure they throw in winds that peak 100kms/hr.   We are not whining and complaining about it, but it has certainly put a damper on our outdoor expeditions.  

Chasing Caribou, laughing maniacally

The dreary-ness was highlighted this week when Toni came to visit.  Toni stepped up and volunteered to be the first official visitor to Fogo Island, and she deserves credit as she arrived in a block of RDF.   The first couple of days were dreary, to the point that a driving tour of the island was called off mid way through due to lack of visibility.  

She held out though, and was greeted with nicer weather on days 3 and 4.  This allowed for some excursions to see the island, chase some caribou (yes, chase... on foot across the road) and even tackle the Brimstone Head hiking trail.

Overall, I think she enjoyed the visit, not the weather.  She seemed happy to be heading home today, as a self proclaimed 'City Girl' a week on Fogo Island was, well, enough.   Thanks for coming Toni, kudos to you.  Bring on the next visitors...

Wind At My Back

If you’re looking to be swept off your feet then I recommend hiking to the top of Pilley's Head look off. Sorry if this is misleading, there are not several bachelor fishermen wearing nothing but a pair of waders waiting for you at the top, you are literally wind blown off your feet. The higher you hike, the windier it gets. There hasn’t been a time yet, in our four of five hikes, that we haven’t been able to stand at a 45-degree angle at the top of Pilley’s Head and have our bodies completely supported by the wind. Try giving a little hop, I bet you wont land in the same place twice. Our current flight record to date is about two feet. The local handyman building our shed suggests filling our pockets with rocks, but where’s the fun in that?

Day one (playing it safe):

 

Day two (growing a little more daring):

Leaning into the wind

Getting some air

Lion's Den Trail

The Lion's Den Trail is one of our favourite hikes here on Fogo Island. The trail travels in a loop, which I prefer to trails where you must turn around walk the same way out.  The trail offers ocean views with signage describing the communities that were once located along its shores.  There had been a number small satellite communities dotting the coast in this area. 

The Lion’s Den Trail starts near the Marconi Wireless Interpretation Center. The Marconi site marks the location of Fogo’s wireless relay station, which stood from 1911-1933. It’s worth a visit, as it has some of the best views of Fogo, particularly Brimstone Head.  

View from the Marconi site:

Lane's Lookout

The trail offers many places where you can veer off the main loop and hike up to a look off.  I wouldn't suggest doing them all in one hike unless you're not planning on walking for the next couple of days (trust us). The most panoramic views of them all, we would say, are from Lane's Lookout.  A short hike up from the main trail brings you to a high hill-top that offers huge panoramic views of the coast. 

View from the top of Lane's Lookout:

Lion's Den

Lion's Den was the furthest satellite community from the Town of Fogo, situated at the end of this winding coastal trail.  Lion's Den is a small cove in a natural valley, there is a small stream nearby that burbles down to the shoreline.  The settlement that was once here was said to have been established in 1836. Lion's Den was once inhabited by 22 people, who were all planters and fishers. The population reached an astounding 40 people in 1871. When the community finally faded out of existence the houses were launched from the shores, many of which were relocated within the Town of Fogo.  Launched, literally means floated back around the point about a kilometer into Fogo.  

Shoal Tickle

Shoal Tickle was the smallest of the four communities that sprung up outside the Town of Fogo.  Shoal Tickle was among the other trail communities that were abandoned by the early 1930's. Families from Shoal Tickle moved to Fogo or the Gander Bay area.  

Lock's Cove

Lock's Cove, a long gradual hill brings you to another huge panorama.  Around this point of the trail Christina starts to take extended 'photography' breaks, or she just stops walking completely and doubles over to catch her breath.  I am not usually far behind her, and even Winston starts dragging his paws.  With a strong north headwind, the next portion of the trail can really do a number on the legs.  

We have a great time hiking this trail, and have done it a number of times already.  We will make many of our visitors suffer through it so that they can appreciate the scenery.  I can see some of you shaking your heads.. but you're gonna do it!

The strong North wind can cause whitecaps on this tiny pond
along the trail.  Christina described the icicles at the edge of the
pond as being "Stalagmite-type".  Nerd.

"What's that smell??"

I figured it was time to include myself in this blog.  We have been happily settling in, and getting to know our new environment.  I have been adjusting to the new office, and find myself making frequent trips back and forth to Karen’s desk asking questions about this and that.  ‘Where do I find…’, ‘Do you know who..’, and ‘How do I get..’ have all become very common in my vernacular.   In typical Newfie style though, my colleagues have taken me on as one of their own already.  I get picked on for my distaste towards coffee.  They find that I ‘can’t sit still’ and rarely partake in their morning coffee breaks in the lunch room.  I have been called ‘OCD’ and ‘anal retentive’ already in the office, so they are obviously adjusting well.  

We share the office with the Dept. of Fisheries, two good Newfie boys who love to hunt and fish.  It makes for some interesting meals at the office.  Where I was accustomed to ‘sticky bun Wednesdays’ and trips to Tim Hortons, it is now replaced with foreign smells of miscellaneous game meats being cooked in the lunch room.   What is that odd, but intriguing smell coming from the lunch room?  The first time it happened I had already found their prize earlier in the morning.  I had been fishing around in the lunch room when I stumbled upon a doubled up grocery bag full of something.  I investigated further, and upon untying the second bag was surprised to see a mound of flesh coloured organs.  ‘Turr Hearts an’ Liver’s B’y’ came from over my shoulder.  ‘We’ll fry em’ up fer lunch an’ have a feed’.   Not my usual lunchtime repas, but I was willing to give it a shot.  I enjoyed them more than I expected, and was even kind enough to bring a few home for Christina!   Turr, for those of you who haven’t heard already, are actually a Murr, a type of salt-water bird that locals go to great lengths to hunt.   

The second time this happened I was more prepared.  I walked into the office and was greeted by a strong smell of cooking.  It was similar to walking into a house on Thanksgiving, the smell permeated through the entire office.  ‘What are you guys cooking this time?’ I said, with some curiosity.  I was in for a real treat, the boys were cooking a full Caribou dinner.  Dinner = Lunch in these parts.  Unlike the Turr Hearts and Livers, the Caribou came complimented with corn, mashed potatoes, gravy and even stuffing.   This was more my style, and after stuffing myself to the gills I made sure I set a plate aside for the missus.  Surely, she would be up for trying some of the local delicacy that is Caribou.  Again she turned her nose up, but I am working on her.  Hopefully, with time, she will break down and start sampling some of the local dishes.  

I enjoy seeing the local soccer team on the field every day when I go to work.  They are dedicated, and show up in great numbers for their ‘practice’.  The Fogo Island Puffins,  or ‘dinner’ as some might call them.  

What Are You Looking At?

Views from the bottom of Fogo Head

I might have got ahead of myself. Fogo Head Trail is the most challenging stair master of all time. It’s 338 ft above sea level and over three hundred stairs to the top (somewhere between stopping for breaks and the uncontrollable quivering thighs you lose count). The panoramic views of the ocean and the little town of Fogo are breathtaking from almost every vantage point. I couldn’t help but make frequent stops to put the panoramic photo app on my iPhone to work. Shaun seems to think my photo ops were merely excuses to catch my breath. I’ll never tell.

Halfway up Fogo Head we stopped for a little break. We sat on a bench, so high my feet dangled, to take in the sights. Wow! “Hey, what’s Winston looking at?” Winston is rarely still. We watched him stand perfectly still looking out over the ocean. Awe. We paused to snap of few pictures of Winston strangely still and taking in the sights himself. And he’s off! “What’s he looking for? Did he see something?”

Winston made his way down the hill, sniffing his way to and fro. Might as well start filming, after all it’s pretty cute watching Winston explore his new surroundings. “Oh shit, an eagle!” Instantly I had visions of an eagle picking up a toddler from a YouTube video I once saw. Panic set in and I instantly start hollering for the little fur monster to make his way back to me, and quickly! Phew, that was a close one.

See the itty bitty black spot?

Just as we got Winston back on his leash and turned around to continue our trek up the hill I hear Shaun yell, “WHALES”! You’ve got to be kidding me. I just expressed to Shaun the day before how I can’t wait to see my first whale. You’d think, being from Nova Scotia, I'd have seen a whale before. Nope! Just then I spotted them, a pod of four or five orcas. Simply amazing! We sat for another viewing break, much longer this time.

Winston remained back on his leash for the remainder of the hike to the top. What a relief making it to the top, knowing its only downhill from there. GUESS AGAIN! That was the easy part! The winds had suddenly shifted and it began to sprinkle. We were under attack! At such strong wind speeds, on top of a mountain, raindrops start to feel like Bee Bees shot directly at your head. Instantly we were taking cover under the shelter of our sleeves while speed walking to the finish. Without a single word, a mutual understanding, we practically ran home.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

Enough was enough! After arriving to Fogo, being greeted by three steady days of excruciating rain, wind and bitter cold, we were going out! Dressed in our warmest and most rain repelling clothing we were ready for our first adventure.

We decided to start with the tourist thing to do and hike Brimstone head, one of the four corners of the earth according to the Flat Earth Society. A spectacular 300 foot rock projection. Not even rain and 60km/h winds would stop us today; we were in desperate need of some fresh air. The online reviews say “easy”, I have to disagree. No amount of lunges could have prepared me for the climb to the top. 

Although it was a gloomy day, you can’t disagree that the rock formations and the view from the top aren’t spectacular. It’s truly amazing that places like Fogo exist not too far from home, and to think we get to live here for the next three years.

My one recommendation for this hike is not to buy and wear Costco fleece lined sports tights. Within minutes of our hike I was already nubby and sporting a very saggy crotch. Not my idea of a good time.

The top of Brimstone Head. We made it!

 

We're Going Where?

“I’m going to be sick”. That was my first thought when I answered the phone. It was a hot June day at work when I found out the news we’d be moving to Fogo Island. Never heard of it? Neither had I! After several months of impatiently waiting and researching my new home the day had come, the movers would be arriving on Monday. Monday was freezing. I spent the majority of the day pacing around, watching the movers box up our things.  Bored, I proceeded to grade them on their spelling mishaps on most of the boxes. Some were trickier to spot right away, camouflaged by all capital letters. “PITCHERS”, I never knew we had so many.

Tuesday was a much better day, sunny and warm. I parked myself in a lawn chair in the driveway, bundled up in my new Arc’teryx clothing and cozy wool blanket. I assumed my role as supervisor as three young men loaded all our belonging into the moving truck. The hardest work I did all day was continuing to angle my chair to achieve the best possible suntan and warmth. Keep in mind it was October 21st, the UV index was only 3. Yes, I checked! Finally, done for the day. It was back to the hotel for some last visits with friends and a good night sleep before the drive to Newfoundland. Did I mention our hotel, Best Western Bridgewater, had the cutest little treat bags for Winston? Milk bones, poop bags, and his very own plush blanket.

Up bright and early. Travelled all day to Sydney where we planned to meet up with family for dinner before we caught the overnight ferry to Newfoundland. We had a lovely visit other than Winston’s scuffle with his fur cousin and finding out our ferry that evening would be cancelled. Just great! I was so looking forward to sleeping through the queasy feeling I knew would accompany a 7-hour ferry crossing. The following day I would spend losing my balance and closing my eyes in an attempt to make the feeling of vomit in my throat subside. It was going to be a long and lazy day! We made it ashore, vomit free, and continued to drive another two hours to the nearest hotel. The hotel was combined with a Jungle Jims, which to my surprise is still very popular in some places of the world, Corner Brook being one. The hotel, Comfort Inn, did not get Winston’s approval. The beds were rock hard and he did not feel it appropriate to receive a pink bed sheet so thoughtfully wrapped in a grocery bag. Keep in mind he was previously spoiled by his two-night stay at the Best Western.

The last day of travel had come. We made our way to Gander where our first stop was the Motor Registration Division. What happened to the abbreviation DMV? I reluctantly gave away my Nova Scotia drivers license and sat for my grim faced new Newfoundland picture. In all fairness, you’re not allowed to smile. We followed up with a visit to the Newfoundland equivalent of Superstore, Dominion. Since we’d be staying in a rental with a full kitchen we felt groceries would be a good idea. We stocked up. “Crap, they don’t have Farmers milk. What? The milk cartons don’t have screw caps either”! This might be the biggest challenge of all! It was getting late and we wanted to secure our spot in line for the ferry to Fogo. While making our way through the Tim Hortons drive through we received a phone call from our real-estate agent back home stating that our basement had flooded. Naturally I started crying, partly because our basement had flooded while we were trying to sell our home and partly because this was going to be my last Tim Hortons coffee for a long time.

While waiting for the ferry we enjoyed an hour or two of people watching. The family in the truck ahead of us had to be my favorite, mainly because they were close enough to actually hear. We watched the young boy get out of the back seat and climb into the bed of the truck. He yells something to his parents inside. “Did you catch anything he just said? I’m pretty sure I heard the words battle and coat”. The kid proceeds to grab a case of coke from the bed of the truck. I don’t swear often but it had to be said, “F**k, I’m going to suck here”.