Saturday July 16 - Claresholm, Alberta, a town of just under 4,000, in the heart of southern farm and ranch country. It's a tidy town, clearly geared to serving the local industries, and to providing the amenities needed by local citizens. There's a fair sized grocery store, a nice main street, and some of the usual fast food joints along highway 2, which runs right through town; but not quite the usual number of them, a Dairy Queen, a Tim's, that's about it. There are also at least 4 liquor stores, so that also tells you something.

We're out on the relatively flat prairie, so you can see for miles, the canola fields brilliantly yellow as a foreground for the foothills off in the distance, hugging the horizon. You can probably see for 50 or 60 miles, maybe more. Got  to love the prairies, the softness of the air, the land that stretches off in all directions to a faraway line of sight, the big sky, which seems endless in its dimensions. Looking across the canola field this morning, we could see two ears poking above the crop, a deer in the midst of the field feeding.

We came here last night, after having dinner with good friends Rick and Diane Dunn at the Calgary airport. We hadn't seen them for 4 or 5 years, so it was great to catch up with them, and to find them doing really well. They haven't changed a bit. Rick still loves to take the right wing side of things, poking and prodding the liberal side of us as much as possible. Diane is just as lovely as ever.

Got our Chevy Impala, an upgrade, at the very busy Avis agency, which seemed to have all of the business. We proceeded down the Deerfoot Trail, or highway 2, which runs straight from Calgary, through High River, where my dad was born, and on to Claresholm. We stopped at the village of Stavely, found the community hall, and there was the assembled Peterman clan, getting their reunion off to a good start. Lots of hugs, and chatting, and circulating, warmly welcomed by the group. We stayed until the two hour time difference clicked in, faded, and headed on to Claresholm to find our motel, which turned out to be a nice facilityd, tucked away on the southern edge of town.

A word about the reunion. The Peterman clan began its tenure in Alberta in the early 1900s, when the family moved to the Coronation area from the U.S. to start a homestead. There were three children, Pete, Bill and Anne. Anne was my mother's mother. Bill married Martha, who had emigrated at age 18 from Holland to work as a family maid. They had 6 children. Each of them but the youngest had 4 children, the youngest, Joan, only producing 2. So that's a total of 22 first cousins. Of that total, 19 were present at this reunion, along with a number of their children. Of the six originals, only Annie, Cora and Terry are still alive and well, and all three were in attendance. Total attendees: around 60.

Today was a long day of socializing, chatting and games. Cribbage was one of the mainstays, but other games were played as well. But a lot of time was also spent with cousins catching up with each other, as they are fairly well scattered around. Two meals were prepared in the kitchen by the 4 cousins in charge, who calculated how much the whole thing cost per person.  I think it was 23 bucks apiece. Bargain if there ever was one, as both meals were great. The evening was capped off with two huge birthday cakes presented to Terry, who will be 85 next month, yours truly, who will be 75 next month, and Wendy, Terry's daughter, who will be 65 next month. Missing, sadly, was my mother, who would have been 95 next month. So our little traditional celebration continues.

Tomorrow morning, there will a gathering for coffee back in Stavely, as people head back home. It's been a great chance to reconnect with this side of my mother's family. I brought a bunch of pictures that I dug out of Dad's files, and they were much enjoyed, especially by Terry and her nephew Billy and his wife Linda, who were all very fond of my parents. They kept all of the pictures to scan, and add to the Peterman archives.

Tiring to socialize for most of a full day, but glad we came. Tomorrow, we will go by Coronation, where all of this began, to look for my Dad's parents and grandparents gravestones. Then on to Edmonton. More later. Stay tuned.

Sunday, July 9 - Home again!! Nineteen hours of driving...1,800 kms. That's what it takes to get from Cape Breton Highlands National Park to Picton. Just so you know, in case you're thinking of doing the trip. The park is a beautiful area, so heavily recommend you put the park on your bucket list if you've never been there.

We broke the drive up somewhat, as we left on Friday afternoon, just to get a start. The kids were keen to do a hike that morning, so we joined them for an 8 k hike up the nearest trail, which has a vertical elevation change of 1,200 feet. (Gail accuses me of getting some of my numbers wrong in these missives, so you can check me if you like. Look up the Acadian Trail on the park website. I dare ya!) It wasn't all up, as like everything else, most ups have a down, so half of the hike was coming back down, which is sometimes more tiring than the climb up. Great views of the surrounding area and the ocean, so well worth the effort.

When done we finished transferring everything, our stuff to their Dodge wagon, their stuff to the r.v., and with some farewell hugs, off we went. We took a different route to get to the Canso Causeway, a winding but good road on the west side of the island. Then it was on the TCH to Truro, where we stopped for the night. We'd hoped to see the tidal bore next morning, but the timing was totally off, as it came in shortly after midnight, then again in later afternoon. So as has happened before when we've been in Truro, not much luck with being bored.

Next day I clearly did not do as I say, but did as I did. Meaning? I'd told the kids to take their time coming to Cape Breton, relax and enjoy the drive. You're tired, so don't push it. They made the 1,800 k's in two full days, which meant a couple of 10 hour days on the road. A bit much in my opinion. So what did we do? Eleven hours on the road the second day. But there was some excuse for it, as once you get past Quebec City towards Montreal, it's really hard to find a motel. First of all, there aren't many towns of any size near route 20. And where there are, the motels were full. We finally decided to push on to Drummondville, thinking surely a town of that size would have a place for two tired old people. No way!! All motels were full, as there was a convention going on, as well as some sports tournament.

By now we were only 90 kms from Montreal, and didn't want to get into the metro mess looking for a place to stay. Fortunately, our very friendly server at dinner in Drummondvillle told us of a motel she thought might have room, about 20 k down the road. After another 'no room in the inn' (we started to think of ourselves as Joe and Mary), we lucked out at the place our nice server had recommended. Got the second last room in the Laliberte Motel. Could have been a stable, and we wouldn't have cared.

I only mention this in such detail to advise you, with verified experience, that if you plan to stay in the summer in a motel in Quebec on your way to or from the Atlantic Provinces, it would be wise to do some research and book a room in advance. Not something we freewheelers often do, but we learned our lesson.

Some folks say the drive through New Brunswick is boring...nothing but trees and more trees. But really, the route from Riviere du Loup to Fredericton is quite fine, as you go through a series of valleys and hills, following the wonderful St. John's river, a broad and beautiful flow. Trees there are, in abundance, but also there are lots of fine vistas, and some interesting towns along the way. Stop for a few bags of potato chips at the Covered Bridge factory, among the best I've tasted. Find the world's longest covered bridge nearby, and also the world's shortest. Or find the world's largest ax. There's always a new experience. There's even a zip line across the falls at Grand Falls. So please don't knock NB. NB: it's A-okay

Anyway, we are now home, and delighted to be here for a few days, before we head off to Calgary on Friday. Jimmy Stewart deserves much praise for keeping our grass cut. and for doing some plant watering. We can't believe how high the water is in the bay. Still really unaccessible for kayaking. Not much time for that anyway, as we have only three days to catch up on quite a lot of work around the place. Such is the price one pays for wandering.

I think I'll just keep this blog going, as we will have some things to see and share in Alberta. So if you feel like hanging in with us, there will be more later. Stay tuned.

Thursday, July 6 part 2 - We did Signal Hill on Sunday, then had time to put in, as our ferry from Argentia was scheduled for the next afternoon. So despite the fog, we decided to head down the Irish Loop, which goes down and around the most south-easterly peninsula. We had heard that Ferrytown was a good place to see whales, so we stopped there, only to find that the fog was so thick, nothing could be seen on the sea. So, do we turn around and go back up and around, or carry on down and around. You have to look at a map of Nfld to know what I'm talking about.

Since we had not done the Loop last trip, we decided to carry on. The road was reputed to be pretty bad, but what the heck! On we went, and the road was actually better than expected, even on the other side, where we had been told the road was terrible. Turned out a lot of it had been recently repaved, so although there were stretches where you had to use both sides of the road to avoid serious potholes and road break-up, most of it was okay. One thing about driving two lane roads in the province is you learn to use both sides of the road, and hope the traffic allows it. Fortunately, the traffic was light, as it often is on the two-laners, so you can dodge and swerve to your heart's content.

We stopped at Mistaken Point, which is near Cape Race, location of a critical lighthouse and communications station. This is where the first signal of the Titanic's problems was picked up, and most interesting, Kathy O'Driscoll's grand-father worked at this center at the time, so was in on the first distress signal's receipt. Also of interest is that Mistaken Point is the site of some of the oldest fossils ever found anywhere in the world. Just happens that Queen's University has been heavily involved in doing research here, as it's a very important part of explaining the history of life on the planet.

On to St. Steven's, a small fishing center at the bottom of the peninsula, where we had been told by the lady running the cash at a Bay Bulls grocery store that she and her husband had been the day before to see whales. Listen to the locals. So we parked at the St. Steven's beach, and spent more than an hour, spotting several humpbacks surfacing and blowing, some quite near the beach. Could have free camped there, to continue the watch, but since we still had a fair distance to go to get to the ferry the next day, we went all the way back to the TCH to find a campsite. 'Twas a lovely drive along St. Mary's Bay as we drove north, so despite the odd bad stretch of road, we were glad we'd done the whole thing.

Next day, we continued on to Placentia, where we did a short walk on their boardwalk, remembered that Rex Murphy comes from the town next door, then headed for the ferry. Suffice it to say the ferry passage was smooth, and we had a nice little compartment for the night. We departed at 5 p.m., and disembarked in Sidney Mines at about 10 the next morning. Gail didn't sleep well, so that was the only negative about the crossing.

Despite her being tired, we drove from the ferry to Louisbourg, and spent the afternoon wandering the fortress grounds. If you ever get the chance, you must go. We had been there many years ago, but it has been added to greatly since. There are loads of people in period costume depicting life in the 1740s, the time during which the French controlled the area. Interestingly, the fortress was pretty much in ruins, totally, until the early 1960s, when John Deifenbaker decided it would be a great project for Cape Breton to reconstruct the fortress. A fund of 25 million dollars was assigned, and the work of 25 years was begun. Many locals who had been displaced from the fishing industry, and from coal mining, were employed in various capacities, skilled and unskilled, so it was a great boon to the local economy. Many professionals were also involved: architects, historians, designers, and researchers. It's quite amazing, the workmanship and authentic reconstruction that has been accomplished, when you consider there was really nothing there to speak of until Dief got thins moving.

We thoroughly enjoyed the wander-about, took in the special demonstrations, and talked to all kinds of folks playing their particular roles. One woman in particular, who played the part of a household cook, told us that when first she visited the area, she felt a pull to the place that she couldn't explain. She is from Shediac, NB, where a lot of the personnel come from because of their French backgrounds. It turned out that her grandmother (maybe great-grandmother) had lived in the Louisbourg area, but had left for some reason, moved to New Brunswick,  and is credited with being the founder of Shediac. Full circle, sort of like this writer's father discovering that our roots on his mother's side are in Prince Edward County, which he had not known. Something in the air tells you that there is a pull, unexplainable, that draws you to want to 'come home'. That's what I felt when first visiting the County.

Next day, we drove to Glace Bay, and toured the Miner's Museum. We also did the tour of the mine, which was a major contrast to what we'd seen in Bell Island. Here, we had to crouch down most of the mine tour because the shaft ceilings were only about 4 feet high. Dark, damp, depicting the way things were for the miners in the early 1900s. What a tough way to make a go of life. And to make matters worse, the company controlled everything, so that a miner's pay was pretty much eaten up by the charges the company laid on him. Often a miner with a family would be in debt to the company store, which kept him indentured, almost like being a slave to the master. Heavy duty strikes, bitter and sometimes violent, finally resulted in improvements, but it took many years. Makes the life of a teacher look pretty tame in some respects, as the physical realities, and the danger of working in coal mines, is probably one of the toughest ways anyone could make a living. Much admiration goes to those who did this work.

Now we're camped in Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We've cleaned up the van, gone for a 2.5 hour hike, and await the arrival of the kids. And that brings you up to date. More later? Not much more to tell, but there will be one more short chapter to conclude. Thanks for listening. Stay tuned.

Thursday July 6 - We await the arrival of the kids. Last night they made it to Edmunston NB, so they still had 900 k's to do today. But they figure they'll be here by 7 p.m. They have heard from Clare, who had a rough flight, mainly because of late departures out of Toronto and Vancouver. Result: she missed her flight to Wellington, so had an 8 hour wait in Sidney until the next flight. And one of her bags didn't show when she arrived in NZ, so she has to hope it is soon delivered. However, she was housed in a hostel, last report, so she will need to have a huge catch-up on lost sleep.

Meantime, back to St. John's for a couple of highlights. On Friday, we walked all the way down to the Quidi Vidi harbour, which is next to the main harbour, for a kitchen party. Every Friday night, local musicians get together to perform, their only pay being all the beer they can drink. We were told to arrive early, which we did, the result being we had to stand outside for quite awhile in the cold onshore wind so we could be assured of getting in, as they only take about 80 people. We were all ashiver by the time the doors opened.

But a beer in hand and warm air inside made it all worth while. The music was great...local tunes, well played, lots of good repartee and humour, and a very responsive crowd, a mix of tourists and locals. We shared a table with several people, including three very nice teachers from Montreal, who had to leave early because of a 6:30 flight next morning. They were very friendly and chatty, so we had a nice visit with them. Their place was taken by three really nice local ladies, one of whom had spent a winter in Ottawa getting a heart transplant. She couldn't say enough about the care she got in the Heart Institute. Another lady at the end of the table is a local, who sings in a choir that has gone all over the world performing. She's at the kitchen party every week.

The neat thing about the evening was the enthusiasm of some of the younger women, who got all kinds of people up dancing. Gail was one of the first hauled to the floor, and she had a great time. We ended up dancing quite a bit, and had a lot of fun with the folks, who were so welcoming. True kitchen parties usually involve anyone who can play or sing showing up and joining in, but in this case, the musicians are really good, and are the regulars, so it would take someone with a lot of skill to have the nerve to get up and do something. After two sets, we headed back to the trail for another walk of 6 or 7 k's to get back to our park.

Next day, down we hiked again, about 2/3 of the previous day's walk, to take in Canada Day. From 2 to 4, there was a good variety of performances...music, dance, multicultural, a good mix. There was also a lineup for free burgers, and other goodies, which we took advantage of. For the kids there  were a half-dozen bouncing enclosures, and lots of other stuff for them to do. Energy bars, popsicles, yogurt, popcorn, all handed out free, along with Canada Day decals, stick-ons and the like.

We stayed until near the end, then walked, yes, more walking, downtown to see what was happening on George Street, the pub party center. Thought we'd find a pub, have dinner, and listen to some music. There was music blaring from the street, but there was a 30 dollar admission just to get on the street, so we gave it a pass and went to a nice pub instead. Food was okay, although nothing special.
So, guess what!! We walked all the way back to the Canada Day Celebration Site to hear the last part of the Sheepdog concert, which was also free. For you older folks, the Sheepdogs are a band from Saskatchewan that has made it big, and we enjoyed their performance a lot. Then, as the fireworks began, we headed for a shuttle bus that took us back close to the park. Needless to say, by the time we got back, we were done.

However, next morning, despite a heavy fog, we decided to go to Signal Hill. Couldn't see anything near the top, but Gail was determined, so we parked in the first lot we could fined, thinking that there might not be space for an r.v. at the top (turned out there would have been). We climbed up a back trail, came over a ridge, and saw some troops dressed in British 18th Century uniforms, bright red tunics visible in the mist, and wondered what they were doing. As we moved up, we saw soldiers armed with muskets squatted down behind barriers. What the heck? Then we saw a guy in civvies come running our way, behind the crouched soldiers, and wondered where he was going. Turned out he was coming to rescue us, as we were in direct line with a cannon that was about to be fired. We had stumbled upon the first military display of the season, so we were quickly hustled over to where the rest of the audience was located, to enjoy the rest of the show. They did fire the cannon, which made a huge sound, and wouldn't have been good to be in direct line with. Despite the continuing fog, we continued on up the hill after the show to reach the tower, where we could barely see the harbour below. Cold and clammy, but we did it, and Gail was happy.

That's it for St. John's, a city we have learned to really appreciate for it's atmosphere, history, color, harbour, friendly people, music, pubs, and hilly streets. A great place to spend a few days.

What to do for the rest of the day in the fog? Stay tuned. More later.

Wednesday, July 5th, part 2 - We had four nights in St. John's, so 3 full days to enjoy the change from the smaller out-ports and countryside, which we love. Walked our feet off, as Pippy Park is a wonderful city facility, right in the middle of St. John's. If one is ambitious enough, or dumb enough, you can walk to most points of interest. That we did, logging many kilometers. Our main route to the center of the city was along the Rennie River, a beautiful stream that flows through the park, on for about 6 kilometers and into the harbour. It has a terrific trail, with waterfalls, backyard gardens, sports facilities along the way, and bordered by abundant areas of Queen Anne's lace and flowering mountain ash trees. And I mean abundant, with fields of them. The third vegetation of interest in the gardens we passed: rhododendrons, all kinds of them. Why can't we grow them like that, Gail wondered!?

Too much to tell about St. John's! The Rooms is a beautiful museum that was our first priority, as it had been closed due to a burst pipe three years ago, so we hadn't been able to get in. We wanted to see the area devoted to the Newfoundland Regiment in the First World War. It was well worth it, with excellent displays, lots of biographical details about men and women of note who were participants in the action, and loads of artifacts. The province's pride rests to a large extent on the contribution made in both wars, as it really put Newfoundland on the map with respect to its strategic location and the strength and skills of its people.

There was also an interesting area depicting the natural elements of the island, and the history of the native people. When discussing the disappearance of the Beothuk, it fell short of a clear statement as to why they are no longer, mentioning only European disease and settlement. But aside from that, it was well done. The big surprise was on the fourth floor, where the Art Gallery has an extensive display the work of Gerald Squires, who we hadn't heard of. He died only two years ago, but produced a massive volume of work, often provocative, but also capturing the essence of Newfoundland. He covered a wide range of themes and subjects, some religious, some stark depictions of the landscapes of the province, some the people. Look him up...he was truly one of Canada's great artists, and we don't know anything about him.

We ended the day on George Street in O'Reilly's tavern, havin' a beer and some french fries, listening to a local singer who did a lot of Irish material. Daughter-in-law Sharon would have enjoyed him. Back to camp on the bus, which worked out really well. So good to be located in a city where you can access points of interest without having to drive the rig. Works as long as the feet and legs hold out.

Breakfast time. We have to leave Louisbourg this morning to head up to the Cape Breton National Park, as we'll be meeting the kids there tomorrow. Handover is soon to happen. So I'll leave for now, and try to finish St. John's later.

More later. Stay tuned.

Wednesday, July 5 - Hope the Americans had some cause, any cause, to celebrate yesterday, with the Donald in charge. Glad to be away from t.v. for the past 44 days. We haven't watched two minutes since we left home, and it's been truly a terrific break.

This blog is way behind. And so much to report. We were on Bell Island when last we wrote, so to continue... The mine museum/tour was excellent. The displays were very well presented and documented, including info obtained from Germany about the U-Boat captain who sank two of our ships during WWII. Of interest also is a series of black and white photos of miners taken by Karsh in 1954, when he was invited by the mine owners to come for a photo shoot. But the main feature was a guided tour of the mine by an former miner, whose father and grandfather worked down below. Each worked well into his 70s, the grand-father until he was 79 as an engineer, the father until he was 75 doing hard work.

These were tough men. During the 80 years that the mine operated, with hundreds down in the shafts, just over 100 deaths occurred. Pretty good odds when compared to coal mines. The shafts have high ceilings, supported by pillars of rock, with little need of wooden beams that were so subject to problems. Also the shafts are very high, probably 20 feet, as opposed to coal mine shafts, and relatively clean, compared to the coal dust that did so much damage to miners. Each job had terrific challenges, with workers starting at age 11 in many cases. The 11 and 12 years olds sorted chunks of rock that weren't suitable for loading. The 13 and 14 year olds looked after the horses, which were housed in the shafts to pull the mine carts. The 15 and 16 years olds graduated to become gofers. And finally they would become shovellers, having to load 18 tons of ore a shift over their 12 hours. With time they could graduate to other jobs, some more dangerous than the back-breaking work of loading carts. Six days a week they worked. Like I said, these were strong, tough men.

Death occurred when occasional loose rock fell from the ceiling of the shaft, the back side, as they called it, because the men had their back to the ceiling much of their shift, or when the explosive used to break up the ore blew at the wrong time. Sometimes a cart being towed by winch to the surface would break loose, with no hope for anyone caught in its path as it crashed down to the bottom.

Our guide, Ed, didn't work in this mine, as it had closed by the time he was of age. So he worked in Labrador, where he was caught in a machine, nearly killed, and paralyzed for several years. You'd never know it to look at him. Toughness and determination got him back to full use of his body. Tough like his predecessors, but gentle of speech, and kindly.

I also spoke to Doris, who volunteers in the coffee shop. We had a great old chat, as she is a retired teacher of 35 years, and was involved in skills development programs aimed at providing young people the knowledge needed to make a go of it, since the mine was no longer there to employ them. Many of those who went through the program went on to other parts of Newfoundland, or to Ontario, while only a few could stay to find work on the island. Tough, when a community is reliant on a single industry, like our northern Ontario towns built around pulp and paper mills. As mentioned, the population has gone from 18,000 to about 3,000.

I'll post this, for fear of losing it. Next edition...St. John's. More later. Stay tuned.

Monday, July 3rd, second posting - Brigus, home to Captain Bob Bartlett, an ancestor of our good friend Bill March. Captain Bob is a most remarkable person of history, one whom I would recommend you look up...google him, get a book from the library, whatever. Or borrow the book I purchased when we get back. He was an amazing person, captain of the ship that took Perry finally to the North Pole, a leader of men who through example saved his crew from perishing when icebound. A writer of books, an explorer of reknown, known to Presidents and Royalty the world over. His home was in Brigus, which now is an open museum for all to see. We enjoyed touring through, and became more convinced than ever that he is one of the greats of Canadian history. And we hardly know of him. That should be changed.

We walked one end of the town to the other, as it's such a picturesque place to wander. Homes are so tidy, garderns well cared for, and it has a lovely harbour, with an inlet that some lucky folks overlook from their bridges (decks). We met a woman named Carolyn, twice, who talked our ears off about the area. She reminded us, for one thing, that in the old days, the folks of Brigus didn't do gardening. They were focussed on the sea and fishing, had no time for such things as planting flours. If there was any planting to be done, it was root vegetables...potatos, carrots, turnips and beets, as well as cabbage, to see them through long winters. Now, the village is home to retirees, some from St. John's, as was one gentleman we met, a former military man we met working on flower beds. Not sure he was fully enthusiastic, but he was following orders from his partner of 56 years, so was okay with it.

From Brigus, we drove 'round the bottom of the bay and up and into the overflow of St. John's in South Conception Bay, a suburban sprawl that we were happy to escape as soon as we could. We came upon the road to the ferry to Bell Island, and off Gail went to enquire at a little booth as to what the deal was to go over. She came back announcing that she had purchased our passage, so that was that. We were going!! I pulled into line, and ended up only one vehicle from the little booth, where we had a wait of nearly an hour. Most of that time was spent with the gentleman who operates the ticket booth, who I shall call Jack. He was one of the most interesting people we met here on The Rock, so I had a great chat with him. He wandered over to chay, and would go back to the booth if a paying customer came along, but then back to chat some more. Sort of what Newfoundlanders are like, willing to chat at the drop of a word.

So much to tell about Jack and his history and philosophy, but suffice it to be brief. His mother died when he was very young and his father was an alcoholic. So he was in foster homes all of his childhood and youth, until he got out of that trap at around age 14. Odd jobs for four years, and no doubt a bit of trouble as well, as he was on his own, until he joined the military. Did him the world of good, providing discipline, orderliness, purpose and three squares a day. He served for about 10 years, until injured by shrapnel in a training exercise. So he was discharged, but managed to get on with the Coast Guard, where he served for 18 years. Life in the Coast Guard cost him his relationship with his woman, as he was in the far north for 6 months at a time. Spent a lot of time in the north, and loved it.

Finally, he had done the time needed for pension, then got on with the government doing the work he now enjoys. He makes 60K a year, drives a lovely used Mercedes, has a Philippine girlfriend, and is very happy with the way life has turned out. I loved to listen to him,  the Irish accent, the language, the ideas and hard-earned philosophy that he projected. He's due to retire in two years. I encouraged him to sit down and  put on paper some of the things we had talked about. It would make colorful and entertaining reading, and would contain some good life lessons for his readers. He said he just might do that.

Bell Island, another story in Canada's history that we know so little about. At one time, their iron ore mine was the largest in the world. Closed in the 60 after 80 years of operation, it has meant the island's population has dropped from 18,000 to about 3,000. Most people that live there now are pensioners, welfare recipients, have local businesses (only a few) or commute to St. John's every day, back and forth on their irregular ferry, where they may have to wait over an hour to get on. Some folks also commute to the island to work in the clinic/medical center. So it's heyday is long gone.

We free camped on a beach that was recommended to us by Jack, and had a lovely evening, right on the water overlooking Conception Bay. Quite a few folks were down in the area, socializing or chasing the domestic ducks that were numerous on a little pond behind our rig. But by 10 p.m,, we had the beach to ourselves for a quiet lovely evening. Next day, we toured the iron ore mine and museum, which will be in our next report.

I should also mention that four Allied ships were sunk right off the beach where we were camped by German U-boats, with considerable loss of life. There were memorial markers on the beach detailing the four sinkings, and listing the 200 plus sailors that had perished. Hadn't realized that there had been sinkings that close to home by U-boats. They even know that numbers of the U-boats and who their captains were, with the mine museum displaying artifacts about one of the Captains. Time heals all wounds, they say.

More later. Stay tuned.

Monday, July 3rd - Happy Canada Day, even though two days late. First time we've had wifi for a week, so this tired old blog is way behind schedule. Good for those of you who follow, as it's given you a break from my prattle. But now I'm going to get even.

We've had a great week, despite some rather poor weather. Fog, cool temps, some rain, as well as some good days of sun and warm temps. One day it's sunny and 22. The next day, like yesterday, foggy, drizzly and only 8C. Almost enough to get the long johns out, with the damp and cool temps. But we persevere. Today, it's foggy, but supposed to go to 24, just as we head for the ferry at Argentia. Nova Scotia looks fine, so we're looking forward to some real summer weather. But we'll be sad to leave Newfoundland, as we've really enjoyed our time here.

We had three days of great weather last week, when we were over on Trinity and Conception Bays. Warm and sunny. Heaven sent. We drove up the east side of Trinity Bay to Hants Harbour, and then decided that was enough, as the road wasn't great, and there wasn't much more to see. Just one boring old outport village after another, idyllically set in coves and inlets. Ho hum!! So we headed back, and stopped in Heart's Content, where we had visited three years ago, to see the museum that houses the former receiving center for transatlantic cable services, the first in history. Fascinating to relearn the story of how the cable was laid along the floor of the Atlantic from Ireland to Hearts Content. Now it's just a museum, as that means of communication stopped a few decades ago. It once employed two or three hundred people; now just two or three, there to host in the museum.

Back through Heart's Delight and Heart's Desire to our park, and then on the next day to Cupids. Gotta love the names of the towns and villages in Newfoundland. At Cupids, we did a hike-bike-hike-bike day. Hiked up to the top of the bluff overlooking the harbour for a great view of the area; then biked up hill on the other side of the harbour for 3 kilometers, Gail swearing at me most of the way about the uphill part; then did a lovely 3 k hike out to the edge of the bluffs on the east side of the harbour, for terrific seascape views...and such a nice trail; then bike back to our r.v. Good outing.

Over to our r.v. park in Brigus, just a couple of k's from Cupids, to have another look at one of our favorite towns in the province. We were lined up with 4 or 5 other r.v.s, all from Ontario but for the lone outsider in the midst of us from Alaska. Everywhere we go, we find people from Ontario. We outnumber all others, with B.C. probably in second place. Not too many Americans. Quite a few from Quebec.

I'm going to post this, in  case I lose it, as often happens. So more later, sooner than you think. Stay tuned.