Over the Straits and back again

All we did today was cross the water on the ship that ferries passengers from Blanc-Sablon to St. Barbe and back across the Labrador Straits the MV Apollo. As I lined up to buy our foot-passenger tickets (only $7.50 each way: what a bargain!) I tried to tune in to the Newfoundland accent. This takes some getting used to as the words "boat" and "both" sound the same and their phraseology is quite idiosyncratic (captured very well by Annie Proulx in her novel, The Shipping News). I heard someone call, "How's ya gettin' on dere, boys?" and the reply, "We're all good, tanks." I asked the man in front of me whether he lived on the Labrador side and he said no, he'd just been across to pick berries. It's the bakeapple season here which means that you can order bakeapple pie and such at every stopping place. The old fellow said you have to know when to pick. Some come across before they're ripe, but he knows better; he waits for the big ones. He was also of the opinion that your wait for tickets used to be a lot shorter in the days before computers, in the 60s. A couple of tough-looking truck drivers were teased by people who knew them (in fact everyone seemed to know everyone else except us) and one of them said he was all right now because he'd got his gun and his boots. Most of the talk was about fishing, as it is whenever you turn on your car radio here to catch the news. The chap behind me in the queue came from Forteau (a place we drove through yesterday) and told me about the large number of whales that had been seen this year, a hundred of them at once in Forteau Bay, and how they gathered in a circle with one of the whales diving underneath to drive the caplin up for their catch. The Newfoundlanders seem to appreciate whales as fellow fishermen. They speak of them with reverence.

A stiff breeze was blowing, waves were breaking and as we rocked with the swells we saw gannets diving for fish and a whale jumping clean out of the water. On the return I saw another whale surface. This second voyage was through waves that had grown bigger since the outward treck and sometimes broke over the bows, making the ship judder a little, reminding us of the Flottbek, but this was a very short cruise in comparison, an hour and half each way. We spent a good deal of this time on deck, had lunch in the spacious cafeteria on the way out as well, and sat in the bar facing the bows where it was warm and dry for half of the return journey. Outside, we had to wear fleeces with waterproof jackets on top and I pulled my gloves on too, which got damp, and our lips tasted of salt. No blackflies out at sea—that was a good thing. I overheard someone say that if you spray yourself with anti-bug spray that only whets their appetite.

After disembarking we drove on for a pot of tea across the Labrador border at a The Northern Light Inn, L'Anse au Clair, where a party of seniors was checking in with glasses of punch to welcome them, blueberries floating in it, and where we sat in an old-fashioned restaurant. We then drove back to Lourdes-de-Blanc-Sablon to stand on the rocks watching the tide splash in. The rocks, with vetch and asters growing in their crevices, were covered in whitened crabs legs and dried up sea-urchin shells, often still covered with green spikes. They must have been either washed up by huge seas or dropped by sea birds.