Cape Norman is perched on limestone cliffs overlooking the Strait of Belle Isle, with a lunar landscape of convoluted fields of limestone stretching as far as the eye can see. Unlike the moon's topography, however, the terrain at Cape Norman is interspersed with a scattering of rare types of vegetation. On the road to the lighthouse, just past Wild Bight, are signs alerting the public to the existence of Fernald's Braya, a threatened species, which means it could become extinct sometime in the future.
According to the signs on the road to Cape Norman, fines ranging from $1000 to $50,000 and/or three months imprisonment will be levied against anyone who might inadvertently step on a Braya plant.
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Len and I have become tourists recently, taking short jaunts to small communities on the Northern Peninsula; places we've never visited before. >
On Labour Day weekend, we planned a trip to Labrador, but it was too windy to cross the Straits, so we decided to drive south to Port au Choix to visit Ben Ploughman's studio. We had a great visit with Mr. Ploughman and very much appreciated his elucidation of his own art, not to mention his golf course which was pretty impressive, especially considering he created it himself. >
After visiting Port au Choix, we drove north to New Ferolle Light Station, where the topography was probably as astonishing as it is at Cape Norman. We passed through the communities of Reef's Harbour and Shoal Cove and, as we neared the light station, stopped to take pictures of fishing boats pulled up onto grass verges and piles of lobster traps weathered grey by wind and sun. Len poked his head into an old root cellar, recalling his childhood when root cellars were likely as common as refrigerators are today.
We drove east along Route 432 to Roddickton, Bide Arm and Englee. The old churches with their steeples were beautifully kept, standing sentinel in the communities. On the way out of Englee, we stopped to gaze at a yard full of curious pieces of driftwood; innumerable antlers piled one on top of another, black bears and dolphins by a shady pool, and a whale-in-the-making alongside the house. This was the home of Glenda and Freeman Cull and, although we were strangers, Glenda was happy to show us around. Once the tour was over, we said goodbye and headed east on Route 434 to Conche. >
On the main street of Conche we spoke with Jerry Byrne, a man every bit as flamboyant as his bright orange nylon pants. We met his mom, whose 10 children had recently been home to celebrate her 80th birthday, and had a great talk with her. While chatting, it amazed me how willing these people were to talk to someone they'd never met before. >
Across the street from Jerry's cabin was the Bits & Pieces Café: painted brilliant blue with dandelion-yellow trim and a fire engine red door and veranda. We went in for tea. On the wall behind Len there was a poster of a pretty 1950s woman, lifting a cup of coffee to her lips, saying: "I haven't had my coffee yet; don't make me kill you."
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On Thanksgiving weekend, we visited ‘down the shore' and were bombarded with stories of bakeapple and partridgeberry picking on the marshes, and were also asked if we'd got our moose yet. > When folks heard Len and I hadn't even been out picking berries, or hunting moose, they regarded us with a kind of wondering pity. >
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Recently, I looked out the window at sunrise, and discovered that a moose had eaten a fledgling Red Maple tree that Len and I have been cultivating in our front yard for three years. Len's attention was directed toward the sorry remains of the tree; he was disconsolate; but my thoughts were directed at the moose, and immediately I was reminded of the poster in the Bits & Pieces Café, which said, "I haven't had my coffee yet; don't make me kill you." >
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On our travels we've met artists, writers, enthusiastic berry pickers and moose hunters. We've seen boats pulled up on grassy verges, root cellars with ancient doors, piles of weathered lobster traps decaying along dirt roads, and unmanned, automated lighthouses. >
In my opinion, while the Fernald's Braya might need protecting; so the culture and fabric of the people of Newfoundland should also be preserved. Perhaps we need to pay attention to the signs of the times, and protect what might become extinct sometime in the future if we're not careful.
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