My Annual Trip to Newfoundland - A Blue Mustang Convertible, a Night On George Street and A Nostalgic Trip Down Memory Lane

One of my favorite things about summer has come and gone; my yearly trip back to The Rock to visit friends and spend time in my favorite Canadian city.

For those of you who don’t know, I lived in St. John’s, Newfoundland for 11 years and they were some of the best years of my life. I moved there when I was only 19 and spent my whole adult life going to school, working, building lifelong friendships and basically, building a life there – until unforeseen circumstances force me to pack up my life and head back to the mainland.

Since I moved back to the mainland, I make a point to return to St. John’s at least once a year. This year I was supposed to go in July but there were problems with the ferry and my trip was cancelled. I didn’t think I would be able to reschedule at a later date but did manage to make some time in early September when the ferries were back on track. In mid-September, I hopped on the ferry and headed back to my old stomping grounds. Fortunately there were no delays this time so the trip went without a hitch unlike the unfortunate events of last year – the trip where I ended up being stuck in St. John’s for an extra week due to a ferry break down. Not that being stuck in St. John’s is a bad thing, it’s the fact that I had to find last-minute accommodations (I was broke at that point so fortunately, a friend handed over his house and vehicle for a week) and lug an angry, drugged cat around until the ferry was back on track. The cat stayed home this time.

I arrived in the city late afternoon after a 14-hout ferry crossing and two-hour drive. I had booked a hotel earlier on in my trip planning but a friend suggested I stay with her instead so that is what I did. And so the first day of my trip was spent unpacking and relaxing so I would be up early the next morning to pick up my rental car that would allow me to revisit all my old haunts.

The next morning started out great but maybe not so great for someone else in the city. I arrived at the rental car agency to discover that the small, economy car I had booked the week before was no longer available because it had been in a minor accident that morning. Thankfully, they had a few cars available and it meant me getting an upgrade from that economy car to a bigger car. I was given two choices: take the Ford Explorer or take the Mustang convertible. My choices were followed by the attendant practically begging me to take the convertible. Not that any begging was needed. On my way out the door, I met the people who I assumed would be taking the Ford Explorer and that is when I finally understood why they wanted me to take the convertible so badly; A Mustang convertible isn’t exactly a family-friendly car.

So, with my new ride (of course I let everyone who stopped to admire that beautiful car think it was mine!) I set out for the day. My friends were at work so I had the entire morning and afternoon to drive to all my favorite places. Middle Cove Beach, Pouch Cove, Outer Cove, Topsail Beach, Cape Spear, Petty Harbour, Signal Hill, Fort Amherst, Bay Bulls…Yeah, I did a lot of driving that day and I couldn’t think of any better way to spend the day. The weather was unusually warm for that time of year in Newfoundland and the sun was shining. No fog banks threatened the coast and no rain clouds were in sight which meant I had the top down and my Ipod hooked up to the stereo and the wide open road ahead of me until I landed myself in the middle of rush hour on the Crosstown Arterial AKA Columbus Drive. That was not so much fun…

Driving around that day brought back a lot of memories, mostly good ones. I left Newfoundland almost 3 years ago and still miss it just as much as I did when I left. When I return, it feels like I never left until I realize it is not my home anymore, I’m just a visitor when I go there now. Memories of fires on Middle Cove Beach and watching the sun set at Topsail Beach came flooding back. I laughed out loud to myself at the memory of walking around Cape Spear and the Barracks at night with no flashlights. I could almost feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck just like it did that long ago night when my friends, who talked me into going (“oh yeah, its perfectly safe and well-lit”) told me a story about how a bunch of American tourists were murdered in the old Barracks and the killer was never found. They were very convincing and swore the story was true even though I have never been able to find any news archives or other proof to back it up. I couldn’t help but smile at the memories of driving around from town to town looking for icebergs offshore in the spring. My eyes welled up with tears of joy at the thought of all those wonderful memories that made my time in Newfoundland
So memorable.

That evening, I went to dinner with an old friend. At first, I had wanted to go somewhere familiar, a place I knew well and had fond memories of. Somewhere like Fog City or The Gov’nor Pub. In the end, we mutually decided to go somewhere where neither one of us had been before. We settled on the fairly newer restaurant on Duckworth Street called“Get Stuffed” and stuffed I did get! The unique menu had two price lists – one for regular sized portions and the other for “get stuffed” portions. I ordered the jazzed up version of classic Macaroni and Cheese from the regular-sized list and could barely finish dessert. Both were delicious but I can’t imagine how large the “get stuffed” portions must be because the portion I ordered was more than I could handle. My friend was, of course, impressed with “my” car and it was a beautiful, warm evening – warm enough to cruise around town for a few house with the top down – and that is what we did for the remainder of the evening.

I planned to just stay at the house and read and catch up on emails the day I had to bring the car back to the rental agency because, well, I didn’t have a car to drive around in! A last minute invitation to join some friends on a trip around the Irish Loop saved me from the boredom and torture I would have suffered if I had to stay inside all day. The Irish Loop is a scenic drive encompassing the southern portion of the Avalon Peninsula. It winds along coastal areas and through barren lands and a dozen or so towns like Bay Bulls, Witless Bay, Cape Broyle, Cape Race, Trepassey and Ferryland.

My last day in St. John’s was spent visiting friends who would not be joining me that evening on George Street. For those of you who do not know, George St. is Canada’s version of Bourbon St. or the Las Vegas Strip but not quite as long as those streets. In fact, it is only two city blocks long. The several dozen bars, pubs and clubs that are packed into those two city blocks cater to every possible taste. There are live music venues, dance clubs, a blues bar and Irish pubs. I chose O’Reilly’s, a famous Irish-Newfoundland pub where I spent many a night in my younger years, as home-base for my final night in the city.

Being on George Street brought on some bitter-sweet emotions. Sweet in the sense that I had so many good times there when I lived in St. John's. Bitter in the sense that the street was not like I remembered it. I heard some of my older friends express this sentiment to me in the past; they claimed these feelings come with age. When I frequented the street in my younger days, the days of Benders, Club Etomic, Peddler’s and The Attic, it was almost magical for lack of a better word to describe the many memorable (and sometimes foggy) nights I had on the street. While some of the old bars were still there (Turkey Joes, Trapper John’s, Christians, Lotties Place and Greensleeves), the newer ones didn’t peak my interest in the least. I was more interested in going to places that I was familiar with, places that reminded me of the good ol’ days. We paid our cover at O’Reilly’s, stuck around for a beer, got our wrists stamped and left to check out some of those old haunts. I made a beeline for one of my favorite watering holes, The Attic above Trapper John’s…only to discover that it had been transformed into a dance bar. I have so many fond memories of that place and by now on, that is all they will ever be. As I made my way up and down the street entering new and old venues, I couldn’t keep those old memories from flooding back. I entered new bars that took the place of old haunts and tried to remember the places as they were before. Club Etomik is now Dusk but it is was once a place that I spent many a night dancing until the wee hours of the morning until staff practically had to chase us out with brooms. A newer bar called The Rockhouse is now located where the old O’Reilly’s used to be. It is much different now but I remember what it once was. It's hard to believe so many people used to cram into that place. My favorite spot was always right in front of the stage where I danced to the music performed by popular local bands, such as The Navigators, as they performed lively sets full of Irish-Newfoundland favorites. How that upper balcony felt like it was going to collapse as every soul in that little place were on their feet dancing up a storm. The new O’Reilly’s is nice, I must say, but it doesn’t have the same feel as it did for me back in those days. Again, could be a part of the aging process. Christian’s really didn’t change much except the familiar faces that once worked the doors, served drinks and were practically fixtures at the place were no longer there. I spent many a late, late night (or late morning perhaps is a better way of putting it) at that place. Back then, if you knew the right people, you had certain privileges and one of those privileges was the ability to get into bars after hours. I don’t know how I used to do it because I certainly can’t handle the stuff very well now but I drank my first of many tequila shooters (among other strange concoctions that were mixed up and tested on me and my friends by a bartender we became very good friends with) at Christian’s. Many a morning, we’d all stumble onto the street to greet the morning sun and the street cleaners.

The atmosphere seems different on the street then it did back than too. There seems to be more fights, more drugs, more drama. Maybe it was always like that and I’m only noticing it now because I am older. I remember the street being a place of camaraderie; everyone was your friend. All it took was a “where you from” and you had a new drinking buddy for the night…or friend for life as was the case a number of times for me. Everyone got along, everyone laughed and carried on and the nights seemed like they would never end and, sometimes, I didn’t want them too! You never knew what you were going to see while walking the streets of downtown St. John’s on a Friday or Saturday night but it was all in good fun. Like the time I spotted a couple of guys (who were obviously completely blitzed) sitting in a row boat, that just happened to be parked on Water St. for whatever reason I don’t know, with oars in hand, merrily singing and “rowing” away. Or the time a guy was standing in front of Trapper John’s chasing down everyone who walked by so he could give them a free hug. That is how I remember it; everyone hugging, laughing and having a good time. Seeing familiar faces at every turn was another thing I missed while walking the street that night; I didn't see anyone I knew. A new generation of younger people now roams George Street.

After a stop at the Sundance and Club One to hear the last set of a band I used to like watching, we returned to O’Reilly’s to finish off the night. The music was the same as it always was. Lively Irish and Newfoundland songs that I knew every word too like Peter’s Street, Heave Away and Excursion Around the Bay. And, as if someone in that band knew what my favorite Newfoundland song of all time is, Sonny’s Dream brought the night to a close.

After I moved to Newfoundland many years ago, it became a tradition to go out on a bender before I left to spend summers with family in Nova Scotia so sticking with that tradition, I made my way across Newfoundland to catch the ferry in Port Aux Basques...with a raging hangover. And a few weeks after returning home, I received a letter in the mail from Marine Atlantic. Apparently, they softened up in their relations with customers who are fed up with the delays and poor service and decided to send out presents to make up for the delays of this past summer; a $200.00 travel voucher to be used towards crossings anytime in the next year. For me, that means my travel to Newfoundland next summer won’t cost a cent!

Have You Ever Found Yourself in the Path of a Hurricane?

The Atlantic hurricane season is from June 1 through November 30 and the last few years were quite active with many powerful storms forming and sending bad weather to the east coast of Canada. Until recently, it was rare for full-fledge tropical storms or category 1 or 2 hurricanes to hit Nova Scotia and Newfoundland but warming ocean temperatures means storms are getting more powerful and they tend to gain strength rather than loose steam like they used to when they barreled up the coast. Fortunately, the 2013 hurricane season has not produced many storms and none of the ones that have formed have had any dramatic effect on eastern Canada…yet.

September 20th, 2010 started out much like any other day but word started to spread quickly that a strong category 4 hurricane that had formed earlier that week was headed straight for Newfoundland and was going to hit dead on as a tropical storm. Later that day, the warnings went up and the city got busy preparing for the worse; the storm had picked up strength and was headed straight for Newfoundland as a Category 1 hurricane. I remained unconcerned as many thought the storm would most likely head out to sea like all the rest. But the next morning when I stepped outside and was greeted with an eerie calm and a purplish tint to the sky like none I had ever seen before, I knew we were in for a wild ride. September 21st, 2010, a day I will never forget. That was the day hurricane Igor hit Newfoundland.

Until the very last minute, I admit, I didn’t take the warnings seriously. Big storms have hit Newfoundland before. The year I moved to St. John’s the city experienced a record-breaking winter that saw 21 feet of snow fall over 5 months and many other blizzards and tropical storms had hit in the years following so I was used to harsh weather. However, when the storm was upgraded from tropical storm to Category 1 hurricane, I started to worry a little. The forecast for that day and into the night was severe; 140 km winds, 200 mm of rain and meter-high storm surges. I charged my phone, found some extra batteries, flashlights and candles, made sure I had some non-perishable food items at the ready and prepared for the worse. My apartment was located on the corner of Bond and Prescott right downtown, close to the harbor and in what came to be known by residents on that corner as a wind tunnel. During winter storms, it seemed that that particular corner gathered a lot of snow and experienced very heavy winds and I assumed this storm would be no different.

I can’t remember now what time it was when the weather started to pick up but I think it was somewhere around late-morning to mid-afternoon. To me it seemed like any other miserable windy, rainy day in St. John’s. My internet remained connected and although the power did flicker a few times, it did not go out. I continued with my daily tasks around the apartment, taking a break to check on the situation outside from time to time. It didn’t seem windy where I was located but I could see some debris blowing around on the street below and the occasional person struggling to walk up the hill. Other than that, it still just seemed like any other stormy day in Newfoundland. When darkness fell, I noticed that some people had lost their power. As the evening went on, more and more lights went out until my house and the other three houses on my corner were the only ones who still had power. Still, I was not convinced that this was a bad storm. St. John’s experiences power outages all the time during storms and I was prepared for mine to go too. I spoke with my family back in Nova Scotia who were concerned about the storm that was said to be battering us in St. John’s and assured them that all was well, the storm was obviously not as bad as everyone was saying it was. At least not from my point of view. It wasn’t until I left home that evening to join a friend for a drive around the city that I saw the real destruction that had been occurring while I thought the storm had mostly gone out to sea.

Igor hit Newfoundland as a strong category 1 hurricane after many thought it would just brush the island and went down in history as one of the most powerful storms ever to hit the island. The devastation was tremendous. While I sat in my protective bubble on the corner of Bond and Prescott, many parts of the island, including the capital city were in a state of emergency. To this day, I don’t know why my particular corner remained untouched when just a few hundred meters away from my doorstep, century-old trees were toppled, streets were flooded and impassable and homes and cars were damaged. As my friend and I drove those dark, deserted streets that night, announcers on every radio station were warning people to stay home. Shops were in darkness, police and first responders were everywhere, debris was scattered across yards and roads and traffic lights were not working, making every intersection in the city dangerous to cross. Sirens could be heard non-stop. The city was in total chaos.

My power never did go out. It remained on the entire time while some of my neighbors and friends from all over the city were without power for almost a week. Some restaurants managed to open with the help of generators but with limited services and most shops remained closed for days. Many people I know sustained major damage to their homes and properties. Newfoundlanders are tough and are used to bad storms. I lived in St. John’s for ten years and had seen blizzards like none I had ever witnessed back home in Nova Scotia but the city never shut down and the army never had to be called until Igor hit.

What was ironic about the timing of this storm was it was only mere weeks from the time I planned to move from the province. I had lost my job and planned to start over again in Nova Scotia or wherever any future employment brought me. My time in Newfoundland certainly did end with a bang. The remnants of Igor stuck around right until it was time for me to leave for good. When it was all said and done, one man had lost his life when his driveway collapsed and he was swept to sea and countless others were left with homes that were in ruins. Some communities were cut off from the outside world for weeks due to washed out bridges and homeowners filed for more than 65 million dollars in damages within the first two weeks after the storm hit.

Just a little over three years later, some communities are still trying to pick up the pieces left shattered in Igor’s wake but, in true Newfoundland style, the people remained strong, communities came together and no one was left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives alone. Homes may have been broken, cars may have been swept away in floods, belongings lost in a sea of debris…but the spirit of the people remained intact like it always has and always will. While looting and chaos seems to be common when a natural disaster of this magnitude takes place in other larger cities on the mainland, I heard of no such things going on in the days following Igor. What I witnessed was people coming together to help their fellow neighbors, all the while, keeping that positive and humorous demeanor that Newfoundlanders are known for. I was not born in Newfoundland and my Newfoundland friends tease me about never being able to become a true Newfoundlander because I was born on the mainland but witnessing how the people came together after such a devastating event made me proud to have been able to call The Rock my home for 11 years.