UPDATE: 17 March 2004
Northern
Exposure: An Adventure through Newfoundland
GUEST REPORTER: Brandon Wright - a graduate of Auburn University - and a fellow earthroamer who finally settled down enough to buy a house in Chicago...
BECOMING A NEWFIE
With
one quick gulp I had consumed the required amount of Newfoundland’s golden
elixir. “Screech,” they called it. Tasted of toxin to me… like
rotten Jägermeister - if such a substance could actually spoil. I stood
at attention, as this was also required. No slouching, no arms resting on
the bar. This was a solemn event. The master of ceremony clinched
his staff… a fur hat placed squarely on top of his head. No more orders
taken during the initiation. The bar was closed. All eyes were
fixated on the three of us: a woman from Montreal, a man from Maine and me,
whose Chicago home received the loudest applause from the crowd. Many in
the bar were locals grown accustomed to initiating Newfies. Others were
travelers from different cities… some of whom were recently inducted, others
were clueless about what was going on, but watched anyway since even the local
band had stopped playing for the event.
With
the Screech still burning our throats, we tried helplessly to repeat the age-old
Newfoundland greeting being recited by the Master of Ceremony. Fargo meets
Scotland – that was the accent. Heavy and quick, he spoke the words.
I could barely understand and certainly could never repeat… but that was the
fun of it all. Each mangled pronunciation drew more laughter from the
locals. After three attempts, it came out right and with the proper accent
(or close enough anyway).
“…Aye
me ole cock…and long may your big Jib draw.”
There
were other parts to the saying, but I’ve forgotten most of it… and
wouldn’t be able to tell you what it meant had I remembered.
Screech
consumed, greeting recited, my final task was to kiss the rear of a puffin, the
official bird of Newfoundland. In olden days, Mainlanders wanting to
become honorary Newfoundlanders were required to kiss a live cod fish or a
puffin’s rear. In these days of environmentalism (not to mention the
near depletion of cod fish), a wooden puffin or stuffed cod is sufficient.
With the three requirements completed, I was Screeched-In, and an honorary
Newfoundlander… even obtaining an official certificate and keepsake shot glass
to commemorate the occasion.
The
origins of the Screech-In ceremony are unclear. Newfoundlanders have been
welcoming Mainlanders in this fashion for decades, perhaps centuries. The
term “Screech,” however, dates back to the Second World War, when an
American serviceman let out a blood-curling howl upon consuming the unlabeled,
no-name, home-brewed rum. His captain then entered the bar demanding to
know who let out such a horrible “screech.” The legend stuck, though
many years would pass before the name surfaced on the labels of bottles.
Now Newfoundland Screech can be purchased throughout the island and even in
mainland Canada… but after having tasted it myself, I must ask who would want
to?
This
is Newfoundland: odd name, peculiar-but-friendly people and generally unlike any
other place I’ve visited.
The
island is full of surprises, and I was awed at nearly every turn. Not only
does Newfoundland possess some of the most intriguing and breathtaking scenery
that I have ever seen, the province is also rich in history: Amelia
Earhart took flight from Harbour Grace to cross the Atlantic in 1932… The
first trans-Atlantic telegraph was received at Heart’s Content in 1866…
The provincial capitol, St. John’s, is the oldest settlement in the Western
World, having 40 vessels lay-anchored four decades before the Mayflower landed
in America…. And Water Street in the heart of St. John’s is the oldest
street in North America.
Where
Newfoundland really amazes, though, is not in the history books, but along the
rocky and treacherous coastline, where tens of thousands of northern gannets
wrestle with black-legged kittiwakes and thick-billed murres for every tiny
perch, though only meters inland are vast fields of empty grassland on which
they could nest… It’s the fjords that magically appear at nearly every bend
in the road… It’s within the tranquil waters of each cove, where ancient
icebergs are captured and slowly melt into the sea releasing gasses and water
stored within them for millennia… Newfoundland dazzles in the waters just
offshore where one of the largest populations of humpback whales feed and
frolic, while hundreds of thousands of Atlantic Puffin nest on nearby islands…
It’s the thrill of watching bald eagles soar overhead, and caribou grazing
along the highway.
Another
amazing aspect of Newfoundland is that nearly everything is readily accessible
by car, making the island not only a nature-lover and hiker’s dream but also a
city-dwelling tourist’s delight. From my bed and breakfast in
Clarenville, I was able to make several half-day trips to nearby destinations.
I rarely felt as if I were in Newfoundland on business. This felt more
like a vacation.
Since
work at the refinery was often delayed, I would frequently have the afternoons
off to explore the surrounding area. One of the first places I visited was
Bonavista, at the tip of one of the many peninsulas on the island.
John
Cabot first landed on the shores of Bonavista Peninsula in 1497 and laid claim
to this “New-found-land.” The offshore discovery of enormous
quantities of codfish, however, was what kept the early settlers returning.
In fact, the stock of codfish was so plentiful, it took five centuries of heavy
(some might say over-) fishing to deplete it. The federal government in
Ottawa closed the remaining fisheries in Newfoundland earlier this year due to
decreased codfish populations. The news sent shockwaves throughout the
province and has lead to the Newfoundland Premier openly calling to renegotiate
the basis of Canadian confederation… a position previously taken by only some
French-Quebecers. Could Newfoundland really survive on her own?
Newfoundland joined Canada in 1948, some 81 years after Canadian independence
from Britain… and the people of Newfoundland think of themselves as
Newfoundlanders first, Canadian second. Regional politics, however, was
not what brought me to Bonavista. I went to see the icebergs.
Every
summer, thousands of icebergs break off from the arctic and slowly drift
southward. Each iceberg contains within it ice and gasses that formed
5-10,000 years ago. The eastern coast of Newfoundland is the best place to
witness these colossal mountains of ice as they gradually melt in the warmer
waters. Many get pulled close to shore into the numerous coves that line
the coastline, where they beach themselves like helpless whales… slowly
melting, shrinking and inspiring. The lucky few (myself included) witness
an iceberg break. The cracking sound echoes through the surrounding
countryside as huge chunks of ice crumble into the sea… The remaining part
then rises out of the water as more of its core reveals itself from underneath
the water’s surface (7/8th of an iceberg’s mass remains underwater). I
saw perhaps a dozen icebergs off the coast of Bonavista that day, and numerous
more before departing Newfoundland.
On
the opposite side of the island, on the southern tip of the Avalon Peninsula, an
odd natural phenomenon takes place. The right mix of minerals from the
earth and nutrients from the sea allow certain plants to grow here that are
normally found only in the arctic. A few yards inland, and the arctic
plant life disappears, having lost the vital nutrients they need to survive.
Along this tiny strip of coast, hundreds of thousands of sea birds also make
their nests. Birds of many different shapes and sizes cling to tiny
crevices in the vertical cliffs, where land meets sea. Most of these birds
spend the majority of the year at sea, only coming to these cliffs to nest and
breed. Not wanting to be too far from the open ocean, they refuse the vast
acres of land that is available just meters from their perches. I was
amazed at the lack of bird-poop along the path. The birds simply do not
fly over land. I was also surprised at how close we were allowed to get to
the birds… not only for their protection, but for our safety as well.
The birds were nearly at arm’s reach, though it would be hard to touch them
since the cliffs are completely vertical and several hundred feet high.
Weather conditions at the site are consistent throughout the year - drizzly and
cold – making the rocky cliff top precariously slick, and there is no
railing to separate the wet surface at the top and certain death below. Still,
the view from the top was breathtaking and worth the risks.
Other
treks through Newfoundland led to encounters with caribou, bird watching ospreys
and eagles (both bald and golden) and a whale-watching boat ride… no whales
that day, but plenty of adorable puffins along the islands off the coast.
I wanted to elaborate on these trips, but I feel I’m rambling on and on, so
I’ll leave you on this note: Ah Newfoundland… What a fascinating island, and
a fitting place to conclude my Road career. Though this was my last
foreign assignment with UOP – trading the passport and language books for a
desk and home – I will no doubt continue to travel the world. It’s in
my blood now.