When I got up at 7h20, I found the road workers gone; I later learned that they had left for work about 5h30. I never heard a peep!
It was warm, +27 (81) under a sunny, blue sky with white clouds to the north and east; it was very hazy over the water to east, but St Paul Island was visible through the haze nonetheless. It was still blowing hard (30 km/h (20 mph) gusting to 51 km/h (32 mph) per Weather Underground); at least, there were no flies about and the wind made it feel less warm and also less humid than yesterday.
I had breakfast from food I had brought: maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal with a third of a pint of blueberries, two big glasses of orange juice, and tea, which I finished on the porch. I had near zero motivation to bestir myself, even though it was a nice enough day and some of the easier trails were calling: I was just fine sitting out on the veranda admiring the views². By mid-morning, it began clouding over somewhat, with the winds still gusting strong, another motivation to stay put, so I worked on and completed Sunday’s account, which I posted.
¹ Posted on Saturday, 24 June, for Tuesday, 20 June.↩
² Because the Lodge was rented to road workers all of last tourist season, I didn’t get to stay there last year—I was down in the village instead—so there were lots of memories to be refreshed as I recalled places I’d been that I could see from the veranda.↩
A friend whom I originally met through Facebook—he often posts gorgeous photos of the area—and met in person last year stopped up and we had a good chat. He spoke about the way the area was years ago, when houses and fields and pastures covered the slopes of the “Western Wall” above Meat Cove Brook where now spruce and hardwoods grow, though their current respective distributions still mirror the former uses of the land. The side of the big highland adjacent to Little Grassy was known by a Gaelic name (the area’s people were mostly Scottish Gaelic-speakers) whose English translation is Horses Hill, as that’s where the horses were pastured. In the old days, many families then lived inland along the Lowland Cove Road and at MacEacherns Lake (behind Capstick); the settlements at Capstick, Meat Cove, Lowland Cove, and Cape St Lawrence were primarily used for fishing access and those who lived there in the summer moved inland in the winter to their permanent abodes in the highlands, although a few were year-round residents (including the lighthouse keeper and his family at Cape St Lawrence). Most both fished and farmed, though their farms were not large (a few cows, some sheep, and a horse or an ox). Anyone who knows me knows how much I enjoy hearing about the “old days” in these storied places I visit, so the time passed very quickly.
He went off to Bay St Lawrence and I stayed glued to the veranda, trying to get some of what he said down in my notes (I hope I’ve remembered the conversation correctly). By 13h15, it had become overcast with very little blue sky left; the winds had begun to abate, but were gusting strongly still and it felt like rain.
My friend soon returned, this time with three lobsters and a big pot in which to cook them on the stove in the lodge’s kitchen! He even brought along some sea salt, an apparently essential ingredient for a lobster boil if you don’t use sea water (although I had seen people cook them, I’d never done it myself). While they cooked, we chatted some more and he patiently answered some questions I had, including the name of the Capstick gentleman at the cottage where I stayed the night before my first hike out to Cape St Lawrence (recounted here) who had worried about me and insisted I stop by on my way back. I thought my friend would join me in eating the lobsters, but he left as soon as they were done. I had a feast of two of them, supplemented by a lettuce, tomato, and cucumber garden salad, some potato chips, and tea, but I was way too full to eat the third, so I put it in the refrigerator for another day.
I worked on Monday’s account and got it posted. By late afternoon, the weather radar was showing serious rain out in the Gulf west of Cape St Lawrence, explaining the dark grey clouds now overhead, but it didn’t rain and remained overly warm at +27 (81) and breezy with good gusts, but much less than yesterday; I eventually felt a few rain-driven sprinkles in the air, but a weak sun reäppeared while it remained darker in the Cabot Strait.
By the time the road workers returned in the evening, the sun was brighter and the rain had disappeared off the radar, but the wind was a-gustin’ again. I had a good chat with the younger of the workers, who now lives in Antigonish with his wife and young children, but was originally from Alberta. An avid dirt biker, hiker, and all-round daredevil, he was badly injured in a biking accident and has since learned a bit of caution. He was very interested in the hiking trails in the area and I, of course, was more than happy to share what I knew. We saw folks from the campground walking around on Little Grassy and, once he knew how short the trail there was, determined to go out there tomorrow night.
I had plans to be up very early in the morning, so as soon as it was dusk, I went to bed at 22h. A lovely quiet day in one of my favourite places on earth: just heavenly!
