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We got into St. John's Monday afternoon and had lunch with the hens. Then we went out to Middle Cove and Signal Hill for some site-seeing. It was fun. Later we went to Signal Hill again at night so we could see the lights of St. John's.
My first full day in St. John's consisted of me running around Quidi Vidi lake once, followed by me walking around it once. I'd have run around it twice, except I simply couldn't do it in this heat (it was about 30, with the humidex putting it above 35). Beautiful place and only three blocks from where I'm staying. After that we (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
garething, stephtopia and I) lit out of town with Steph's brother J. We went out to the busling metropolis of Ferryland, which is one of the oldest settlements in North America (founded in 1620) and is now the site of current archaeological work.
Ferryland was noteworthy for another reason - it appears to be the personal fiefdom of the Kavanaughs. Half the businesses in town were named for them, including the dinner theatre. We joked that Boss Kavanaugh wrote, directed and stared in all the plays - which would be extra creepy if they were romances.
We met Gareth's mom P and daughter K there and then continued on to P's place in Renews - or as me (6'4") and J (6'7") called it, The Shire. P's house was built in the days before mankind invented nutrition, so it was a good size for hobbits. I was one inch lower then the ceiling, and tall enough I had to duck under any beam, light fixture or decorative molding. J simply hunched at all times.
P gave us the grand tour, which consisted of the beach, the churchyard and the spot where the locals claim the Plymouth landed before continuing on to Plymouth Rock.
The next day we went to St. Mary's where Step and J's family came from. This consisted of seeing a larger town where every second house had Steph's maiden name on the postbox. It was here where I actually interacted with some of the locals.
On the beach we saw several tonnes of garbage that had washed ashore. Gareth decided to do something about it and proceeded to fill a bin with flotsam and drag it to the garbage cans. I approve of any and all windmill tilting.
Between Middle Cove and St. Mary's beach, there was a sound that I will come to associate with Newfoundland. It's hard to describe, but if you've ever heard it, you'll know what I'm talking about. The wave action here is pretty powerful. The beaches are varying degrees of rocky, the water is cold and undertow is treacherous, this all combines to people not doing a lot of wading. Also, standing in the surf is like exposing your ankles to a small, but constant, landslide. The surf is so powerful that it chrurns up a lot of small rocks. The incoming waves will throw up any rock smaller then a D cell battery. As the surf goes back, it drags these rocks with it. The sound of thousands of these small rocks clattering against each other is a distinctive rattle/roar that's completely alien to people who've grown up on the land-locked prairies.
It's an ideal place to pick up small, smooth worry stones - Mother Nature's own rock tumbler.
We returned to St. John's in the afternoon and hung around for awhile until we had supper at Sun Sushi. It was OK, but not up to Vancouver standards.
Note that our trip took us in a big loop around the Avalon Peninsula that is normally referred to as http://www.theirishloop.com/.
My first full day in St. John's consisted of me running around Quidi Vidi lake once, followed by me walking around it once. I'd have run around it twice, except I simply couldn't do it in this heat (it was about 30, with the humidex putting it above 35). Beautiful place and only three blocks from where I'm staying. After that we (
garething, stephtopia and I) lit out of town with Steph's brother J. We went out to the busling metropolis of Ferryland, which is one of the oldest settlements in North America (founded in 1620) and is now the site of current archaeological work.Ferryland was noteworthy for another reason - it appears to be the personal fiefdom of the Kavanaughs. Half the businesses in town were named for them, including the dinner theatre. We joked that Boss Kavanaugh wrote, directed and stared in all the plays - which would be extra creepy if they were romances.
We met Gareth's mom P and daughter K there and then continued on to P's place in Renews - or as me (6'4") and J (6'7") called it, The Shire. P's house was built in the days before mankind invented nutrition, so it was a good size for hobbits. I was one inch lower then the ceiling, and tall enough I had to duck under any beam, light fixture or decorative molding. J simply hunched at all times.
P gave us the grand tour, which consisted of the beach, the churchyard and the spot where the locals claim the Plymouth landed before continuing on to Plymouth Rock.
The next day we went to St. Mary's where Step and J's family came from. This consisted of seeing a larger town where every second house had Steph's maiden name on the postbox. It was here where I actually interacted with some of the locals.
"You from away?"I suspect I was missing some social cues because I generally got the stink-eye after this.
"Yeah"
On the beach we saw several tonnes of garbage that had washed ashore. Gareth decided to do something about it and proceeded to fill a bin with flotsam and drag it to the garbage cans. I approve of any and all windmill tilting.
Between Middle Cove and St. Mary's beach, there was a sound that I will come to associate with Newfoundland. It's hard to describe, but if you've ever heard it, you'll know what I'm talking about. The wave action here is pretty powerful. The beaches are varying degrees of rocky, the water is cold and undertow is treacherous, this all combines to people not doing a lot of wading. Also, standing in the surf is like exposing your ankles to a small, but constant, landslide. The surf is so powerful that it chrurns up a lot of small rocks. The incoming waves will throw up any rock smaller then a D cell battery. As the surf goes back, it drags these rocks with it. The sound of thousands of these small rocks clattering against each other is a distinctive rattle/roar that's completely alien to people who've grown up on the land-locked prairies.
It's an ideal place to pick up small, smooth worry stones - Mother Nature's own rock tumbler.
We returned to St. John's in the afternoon and hung around for awhile until we had supper at Sun Sushi. It was OK, but not up to Vancouver standards.
Note that our trip took us in a big loop around the Avalon Peninsula that is normally referred to as http://www.theirishloop.com/.
