Newfoundland adventures
This story starts with Jenny and I going south to Bristol to stage the International Sea Kayaking Association (ISKA) stand at the Annual Festival of the Sea, back in 1995. “I’ll take a walk around,” I said to Jen during a lull in proceedings and, with that I set off to explore the Festival. One of the highlights was the vessel, ‘The Matthew’, recently constructed replica of the vessel in which, back in 1497, John Cabot visited Newfoundland in the good ship, Mathew, and bagged it for King Henry VII and England. The plan was to replicate its historical journey across the Atlantic to Newfoundland.
Five hundred years later, in 1997, our Queen Elizabeth II and ‘little old me’ went to Newfoundland to help commemorate & celebrate its arrival. The Queen went courtesy of the taxpayers, I, on the other hand went on the back of a Churchill Fellowship Award. But I’m racing ahead of myself now.
One of the other exhibits was promoting tourism to Newfoundland and Labrador and it was this particular stand that certainly encouraged my plan to visit this eastern part of Canada. I recall they were playing Harry Martin’s ‘This Is My Home’ at the time. This must have been a seminal moment as seeds were sown. Now they had to germinate and grow.
Newfoundland, Canada.
A few years before retirement I applied for a Churchill Fellowship. A flyer came across my desk and I thought, ‘why not!’. My application was very much off the cuff and it was as if fate itself had wanted me to be granted the Fellowship and subsequent scholarship because as well as smooth the planning and details of my visit to this Canadian Province it was to eventually provide myself and Jenny with the opportunity of actually living out there. Again I’m racing ahead as I have yet to be awarded the Fellowship. First I had to face the formidable interview panel of those who were to make the decisions regarding the selection of candidates.
One of the few points that I could argue in my favour was my involvement in ocean kayaking and that the area I was applying to go to was a prime one for the development of this aspect of our sport and would tie in nicely with the pending visit of the Matthew and our Queen. They were impressed enough to grant me the much coveted Fellowship. If you’re interested in applying, click here.
There was much to be done as I put together my plans. I was beginning to wonder why I had been granted this award in the first place as my ideas were both vague and scattered. But fate was playing it’s hand. Soon I had made a few contacts in Newfoundland itself and the most promising was Joe Dicks who, it turned out, could not have been better placed nor more willing to help me.
I explained my plans, as thin as they were, and despite his inevitable reservations he agreed to help.
Joe and his wife, Sheri ran their own motel and outdoor adventure centre by the ski resort of Marble Mountain on the west coast of Newfoundland. In the event they and their staff could not have been more accommodating.
Even on arrival my plans regarding my Churchill Scholarship were scant indeed and largely consisted of meeting the Matthew, the replica vessel of the one used by Cabot, as it sailed into Cornerbrook on the west side of Newfoundland.
Despite this uncertainty I believe we were successful in helping to encourage ocean kayaking. We put on courses and expeditions and the number of visitors from Europe, mainland Canada and the US who wanted to kayak the fantastic coast of Newfoundland increased significantly. Okay, largely because our timing was right with the visit of the Matthew and Queen Elizabeth certainly put Newfoundland on the global stage.
I suspect that many of you could not go straight to a world map and put your finger on Newfoundland. I recently asked a hall full of British students where it was and only one put his hand up and he got it wrong. I recall phoning Nigel Dennis (he was with Frank Goodman on Easter Island at the time) in the company of local paddlers, whether he’d come over to Newfoundland to help us run a sea kayaking symposium. His initial response was not helpful, “where the f**k’s Newfoundland.” Needless to say he made up for this faux pas in due course.
What a coast line!
How we came to acquire our second home is quite the tale. We were on the way back to St John’s Airport on the east coast having spent a few days with Joe Dicks on the west coast. This is a ten hour drive and we broke the journey half way with other friends, Lindy & Lottie, in central Newfoundland at a small place called Cottlesville which way back then seemed to be at the very end of the known universe as we kept on driving and driving... and driving.
Today we know that we are, in fact, an hour and half’s drive north of Gander. Our host, Lindy, was most insistent we take a look at his uncle’s house that was about to go on the market. “But we’re not thinking of buying another place; takes us all out time to run the one we have back in England.” Refusal was clearly going to offend so we trotted up the road and down the hill and were given the tour with the whole family in attendance; and the next thing we know the place is ours. Do we ever regret our decision? Not for a second; the best thing we ever did. To this day I still wonder how it all happened. In line with our British insistence on ‘proper paperwork’ when buying a house, we very soon had the place surveyed and registered... all legal like.
