A flying visit

Position and direction became estranged, like that of a lost ghost wandering the dark Labrador wilderness.

Opposition leader Yvonne Jones sat shotgun in the helicopter, which now circled back along the mist-shrouded coast, the white fog creeping over the dark rock, forest and ocean.

Her voice, crackly, sounded far-away through the headset: "You know where we are?" she asked the pilot with a map of the southeast coast across her lap.

Longitude something, latitude something.

"I was hoping you did," the pilot laughed.

I was suspicious, as I am suspicious of any generous politician, when Ms. Jones, the MHA for Cartwright-L'Anse au Clair, asked me to come on the trip to visit the (more) isolated communities in her district, Norman Bay and Black Tickle. (Plans had been arranged to visit the camps of workers connecting the Trans-Labrador Highway, but the helicopter was fogged in for an extra hour in Norman Bay and we were unable to make it).

Norman Bay

We found Norman Bay not by coordinates on a map but by spotting it in the distance, the white houses arched around the bay.

Then we landed on a wharf. We were greeted by a sign reading Welcome to/Norman Bay/Population 60 and big George Roberts, the mayor, on his four-wheeler.

He and Ms. Jones exchanged words about the fog before we walked over the road, worn to the bare bone, the bedrock piercing the dirt, to the town centre for salmon and char.

The town centre filled up gradually with the majority of the townspeople: There are 14 houses in Norman Bay.

Ms. Jones stood up and spoke. She heard of the ongoing issues from varying angles: No road to the highway for plant workers travelling to Charlottetown; poor road through town; no water and sewer; need a landing pad for helicopters; and so on.

She listened. She wasn't, after all, there for votes.

While we waited for the fog to lift enough for the chopper to take off, Ms. Jones visited a few houses, Aunt Sadie being one of them. (Aunt Sadie, I later found out, is everyone's aunt). I walked along the road with Mr. Roberts; we discussed the plight and future of his town.

He spoke with a hint of tired rebellion: "'Spose all we can do is keep fighting, you know."

I was told Ms. Jones and her tiny entourage were visiting Aunt Sadie, one of the eldest members of Norman Bay, so I stopped into her house. Ms. Jones called her Aunt Sadie a lot.

Then we walked back through town. We waved good-bye to a couple townspeople as the helicopter lifted off the wharf. Norman Bay shrunk away in the distance and disappeared.

Black Tickle

As we flew north, the fog lifted, the sun shone. The Labrador coast has two faces: That of a haggard woman in the fog and that of a haggard woman in the sun; the only difference being the sun reveals more clearly the wrinkles and crevices.

The visibility made it easier to spot Black Tickle, which is located on the Island of Ponds.

Ms. Jones and the pilot discussed which might be the best spot to land. We touched down on the wharf of the Labrador Sea Products Inc. crab plant.

As we walked along the wharf of the plant Ms. Jones addressed the workers by name, stopping for quick chats.

We entered the plant, where we were given a tour. Ms. Jones stopped to get her photo taken with a few plant workers.

We took a long walk around the harbour over the road, worn to the bare bone, the bedrock jutting through the dirt, to the children's centre for another lunch. We stopped into the store, before reaching the centre; Ms. Jones introduced me to one of the owners; I remarked on how great it was the store sold Blue Star. Ms. Jones said, "Anything else we can do for ya'," while leaning against the counter. She and the owner laughed.

We left and entered the children's centre, which quickly filled up with children, and I was surprised by the large young population.

I stepped outside with Wendy Quinlan, chair of the local service district, to speak with her about the plight of her community. She said the future looks bleak: "I really don't know what's going to come of Black Tickle."

Ms. Jones left the children's centre, walked past Wendy and I, and said she would leave me there.

"I'll put him on a crab boat," Wendy laughed.

I eventually ran and caught up with Ms. Jones and her tiny entourage.

We strapped in, the helicopter lifted off the wharf. Black Tickle shrunk away in the distance and disappeared.

Not far south of Black Tickle, this used to be the biggest whaling station on Labrador's southeast coast.

While in Black Tickle, Ms. Jones took a tour through the plant. She is pictured here speaking with a plant worker.

Yvonne Jones charters a helicopter or airplane twice per year to visit the more isolated communities in her district, Cartwright-L'Anse au Clair. For her first trip this year, she visited Norman Bay and Black Tickle.