Day 17

Having fetched Cliff and Liz and following the advice of my cousin’s partner, the one on a horse we chased down the street yesterday, our first stop was Government House stables. The stable hand welcomed us to wait and assured us that George would be there in just a minute. He introduced us to Townshend, Percheron. Named after Fort Townshend, the base operation of the original Mounted Unit, which continues to be the Headquarters of the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary today, George’s horse stands 17.1 hands high and weighs 2,006 pounds. He’s a big boy! While we were admiring him the stable hand was telling us about how, as a kid, George had a pony his grandfather had given him. Now that wasn’t quite true since Uncle Con brought the pony home – to Grammie’s kitchen! No real matter though as I shared that I knew the story well since we shared that grandfather.

Shortly George arrived and I was once again (it’s happened now with several meetings) picked up and swung around in a wonderfully warm greeting. Yet another Newfoundlander who hasn’t changed much in my absence, other than to look more like Uncle Mac then I could believe.

George on Townshend

Waited 50 years for his first tattoo ... of his horse

Following that happy reunion, we were off to the Signal Hill Tattoo. In a grassy clearing amid the rocky outcroppings, students in old military uniforms reenact the drills that would have been a part of daily life for the Royal Newfoundland Regiment. The cannon and musket fire vie for attentions with the fife and drum to return us to Newfoundland circa 1790.

Cliff and Liz in their official entry.

Musket fire on the hill.

Readying the cannon.

The red coats are coming, the red coats are coming ...

After all that excitement we were off to Grant’s. He and Ruth had invited us to brunch for a feed of toutons – and what a feed it was! Starting with drinks, of course, and eating, yet again, my own body weight in food, we had a grand scoff. We all agreed it was food to last us for some time and as it turns out we went to bed without any supper – still full! Lord, there is a diet in my future!

Dragging our overstuffed little piglet bodies to the car, we brought Cliff and Liz to 633 South Side where they were completely charmed by dad’s sisters, as I knew they would be. The house, that really is a bit of a family museum, the babbling brook that runs naturally through the side yard and the dear, dear Aunts who are full of charm and clever tales. They were actually a little too amused and fond of the familiar teasing and stories of “Maggie as a little one”.

Next stop Cape Spear, the most easterly point in North America and often one of the coldest due to its location open to the North Atlantic! In keeping with most everything else on this vacation though, the day was blessed. Sunny warmth and the ever present ocean breezes combined for comfort with spectacular scenery. The waves crashed dramatically against the rugged shore as we wandered over the cliffs, mindful of the warnings to remain on the designated paths so as not to be one of the tourists to be swept out to sea by a rogue wave! Stopping at the restroom on the way down from the windy precipice, Liz made us all chuckle when she glanced in the mirror and shouted, “Oh no, my hair’s on backwards!” Even on a warm summer day the wind at Cape Spear is a little fierce!

Magnificant!

Furthest point east in North America

Back in the city we drifted to the other side of the Narrows and explored Ft. Amherst. Not nearly as dramatic as the Battery side, it nonetheless affords some beautiful vistas and completed the panorama of St. John’s harbor. We had no idea at the time, as we watched folks wander along the cliffs across the water, nor later as we saw search and rescue vehicles race through the downtown streets, that a 60 year old woman had drifted too close to an edge and fallen over the Signal Hill cliffs. The warning signs are posted for a reason folks!

By this time, though still not hungry, we were ready for a cool libation. During the never ending search for a downtown parking space Grant called and suggested we go to his house for a drink and head down to Middle Cove Beach in the age old search for caplin since they still hadn’t run.

I wish someone had taken a picture of our descent into Middle Cove. The truth was that we were all so totally captivated by the scene that appeared before us as we headed down to the bay that it just didn’t occur to anyone! The sun was setting and dusk was creeping up the cove. The lights flickered from a dozen beach fires. Some sat huddled around the fires, others stood at the water’s edge. The seascape appeared as if painted; as it had countless times before as Newfoundlanders anxiously await the first caplin run. Given the size of the crowd we were sure they had indeed arrived but discovered that there was a wedding group on the beach for a party. They had rented a bus and while not everyone on the beach was involved with the celebration, a rather sizable crew had gather at one end. The waves were magnificent and Grant and I were reminded of when we were children heading to the beach as the waves swelled and the crowds gathered. We would stand at the edge of the ocean and dare one another to “stay put” as the waves moved closer. Well some people never grow up, and before long the challenge was issued. As the waves continued their assault on the shore the risk of getting wet grew ever more likely. One minute I was standing next to Grant and with just one step back on the slippery, wet rocks I was flat on my back with a goose egg on the back of my head! Now just in case anyone is in the unlikely position to feel sorry for me – don’t! Anyone my age not smart enough to back off from a brotherly dare deserves what she gets! One of the good things about wedding parties on the beach is that they are able to provide ice. With a bag of said ice held in place, I dragged my wet, now lumpy hide back up the hill toward home. Grant, being a St. John Ambulance trainer, wouldn’t let me go to bed and hide my shame until he was certain there wasn’t any sign of concussion. So we stayed up and I beat the pants off him in cards – again! Sometimes pride cometh after a fall!

Looks friendly and peaceful, doesn't it?

It wasn't! Some people never grow up.