Take a Gander

Or, maybe go past Paradise for a saintly time, John.

I realize I’ve been a bit lax in my duties lately, but it’s all for a good cause. I’ve been working diligently with Nick and our new arrivals on the race car.

You see, the last update came from the ferry-side in (no fairy jokes, children) North Sydney, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia (long name, eh?). Turn out it’s the #2 travel destination in the world, according to the sign by the ferry. We found it to be pretty, nice, quaint, and we really weren’t there very long.

What was sort of long was the ferry ride. Yep, a coupla’ ferries. It took 6 hours aboard the MV Caribou to get to Port-aux-Basques, NL, which was rather scenic, and in the current vein of the trip, cold. On the ferry we met the guys from Loose Tools Motorsports, with their Caterham Super Seven and their Datsun 510. Hi Neil and Ian! We also met Chris the Cameraman, so hopefully he’ll make us moderately famous somewhere.

Now, the ferry ride was nice, we had a good view, I got to read some and take a nap, but then I decided to get up and wander. Here’s the problem. I went in to the gift shop to see what sorts of things would be offered for sale on a ferry between two places I knew little about, other than the people seem quite tall (in depth, I know). I found the usual sorts of trinkets; shot glasses, coffee mugs, obscenely overpriced CDs, gummy candy shaped like lobsters (I almost bought some really), and cans of salted fish. That’s not a typo. Typos aren’t that long. The can was about the size of a cashew can, and apparently filled with dried salted fish. I was sort of morbidly enthralled with this concept and I wanted nothing more than to see what canned, salted fish looked like, but the actuality of it escaped me due to the total opacity of the can. In the end the overbearing grossitude of such a thing won and I backed slowly out of the gift shop, completely free of trinkets and hilarious candy. I’m just now able to talk about it.

Anyway, it was time to go ashore, which we did without getting wet even. Great success! We immediately hit the road and started making Newfie tracks. Despite the considerable obstacle of a large body of cold water, the Trans Canada Highway runs resolutely from Nova Scotia right on across Newfoundland. Which is good, because if the roads were much smaller we just wouldn’t have made it.

Here’s the tricky part. It’s where I get to complain about beautiful scenery. I know, go back to Texas you unappreciative cow-kissing oaf. But really, every time we would crest a hill (and there are lots) we would be greeted with yet another idyllic expanse of virgin forest, crystalline lakes, smiling beavers, tweeting bluebirds, and apple cheeked youngsters. I may have made up some of that, but you get the idea. The problem is, how many times can you see that and still go, “Oooh, aaaah,” like the appropriately appreciative tourist you’re supposed to be? I’ll tell you. 6 hours is about my limit. That’s 437 expansive views, unspoiled and untouched, by man or by me. I really just wanted to pull over and go fishing, or maybe hike a trail, or sit and enjoy the piney goodness. But no, let’s keep driving. So we did and I hated the scenery just a little for moving so quickly backwards. I shall have to come back and love it all over again another time.

If you don’t like long windedness you probably wouldn’t have read this far anyway, but I’ll warn you that there’s more. Good for you if you’re still here. That’s tenacity right there. Targa style!

Finally though, after a hearty dinner at Jungle Jim’s in Gander, we plunged through the night and made it to St. John’s at around 12:40 pm and easily found the Holiday Inn, at which point we crashed rather heavily. Of note, we passed the 3k mile mark on this leg of the trip. Yep, we drove over 3000 miles just to get TO the race. What did Nick say the other day? Ah, I forget…

What did I learn in our trip across Newfoundland?

First, it’s possible to get tired of extreme beauty, which was sort of a bummer, but I’m okay now.

Second, there’s a place called Nosy Nick’s Cove in the north of the island that we won’t be going unfortunately, because that would be a great photo-op.

Third, it’s cold here in September. Like 36 degrees at night cold. Like, we are worried about the water in the engine freezing over night cold. Being from Texas, the occasional cold snap is always sort of a welcome relief from the continual furnace blasting we get from our solar cohort, but it’s usually just a freak thing and we think a “Cold Snap” with capital letters in September is a day in the 60s or something. I have to say that it being 36 degrees in September is unseemly. Not just a little unseemly like the otherwise reasonable neighbor who walks out to get his paper in his boxers every Sunday morning. I’m talking unseemly like the overweight French guy neighbor who comes out every morning to get the paper in his “euro-skivvies” and tank top and bends all the way over to pick it up. That’s unseemly.

Finally, I have a serious discovery to put forth. There are no moose in Newfoundland. It’s true. I know, I know, you’ll say that Newfoundland and indeed all of Canada is famous for its moose. I’ve heard all the stories, I’ve even seen the doctored photos and green-screen movies used as evidence, but I’m here to give it all a good debunking. I’ve been driving past “Moose on Road” and “Moose Warning” signs since Maine (Tuesday night for those wondering), and I have yet to see any moose. We drove for four hours through the chilly blackness of a Newfie night and saw nary a moose. I would suggest that the province is suffering from a case of “Mooselessness”. It’s a new condition I’ve discovered that is mental, economical, and mammal. Everyone believes there are moose, and indeed much of the economy seems to be based on the purveyance of moose related gewgaws, but the fact remains that there are no moose here, at least not outside the petting zoo. They have moose at petting zoos, right?

Next post, something actually car related…