There’s just one thing that can lure me away from the garden in June…
Icebergs!
We recently returned from a trip to Newfoundland – travelling from our country’s almost most westerly island (next to Haida Gwaii) to the most easterly, a trip that took 2 days to get there and 2 days to get back.
Before we even touched down in St. John’s, with my nose pressed up against the plane’s window, looking way out in the distance for my first glimpse of the iconic Signal Hill and The Narrows, I spotted two icebergs – bright white shapes against the grey sea. Beside myself with excitement. After settling in to our vacation rental the first order of business was to find a boat to get up close and personal and so we did, booking for the next afternoon, that, with beginner traveller luck, turned out to be the only blue sky day we had. All week as we drove around the north east coast, we would spot icebergs constantly, around the next bend, the next cove. Thrilling in their novelty, although for the locals this is just another June seascape. For me, it never got old.
These giant pieces of ice are over 12,000 years old, fallen off the glaciers of Greenland and sent on their 3 year, 1600 nautical mile floating journey through the Davis Strait on the Labrador current. By the time they get to Newfoundland and warmer seas (that’s all relative) they are nearing the end of their lives and break apart into smaller chunks referred to as bergy bits and the smaller growlers, named for the crackling sound made by trapped air in the ice. (The Growlers is also the name of the local hockey team that had just won the championship when we arrived. Saturday afternoon on Bar Street George Street we found ourselves in the middle of an exuberant street party celebration with the champions themselves in attendance – loudspeakers, speeches, noisy fans and, of course, music.)
Of course, the icebergs off Newfoundland are famous for another reason…
It was one of those icebergs the Titanic ploughed into 640 km off the coast of Newfoundland, back in 1912, a story familiar to everyone. At the Johnson Geo Centre on Signal Hill, a fantastic geological interpretation museum carved into the bedrock of the hill, a permanent exhibition of the Titanic disaster tells the story in a novel and fascinating way. A series of poster displays with photos, maps and old news articles highlights the tragic tale of that dark night and all that went wrong – from the ship’s build, all the way to its sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic, where it rests over 3 km below the surface.
The poster story highlights what was said at the time, what was reported in the news back then, the lies, innuendos, and fiction making and contrasts it with the ‘true’ facts. I was a little surprised to see that kind of bluntness in a museum display – very provocative and refreshing. It is unsparing and even scathing in telling the story of greed, arrogance and power hunger. Of dangerous cost cutting and what now seem to be insane safety measures – no safety drills, not enough life boats or life jackets for all on board, lookouts without binoculars, and much more. The bad judgment of the owners (looking at you J.P. Morgan), builders and not least, the captain, the missteps by individuals on board, as well as the courage and heroism of some of the people on that fateful night is revealed panel by panel. A very human story of arrogance, weakness and ultimate fallibility. The premise is that the tragedy was totally avoidable. Yes, in hindsight. It is a masterful expose of the lies and spins coming out of the news of the day way back when, right up to the present (you wouldn’t believe the conspiracy theories around the Titanic on the intertube – no, on second thought I’m sure you would). Fake news is nothing new.
However, moving right along here, it is because those 1503 people died on the unsinkable sinkable that marine safety standards and requirements started to be implemented. A big, needed wake up call.
St. John’s
I loved the city of St. John’s.
We stayed in a vacation rental, a third floor apartment in one of the colourful jelly bean houses that lines the downtown hillside streets. From our place we had views from windows and balcony out over the harbour and I watched the scenery for hours. Ships coming and going through The Narrows, the changing light on Signal Hill and the lighthouse at the entrance to the harbour, the shifts in weather – sun, cloud, wind, rain, fog – sometimes all within the same half hour.
We spent the first 5 days of the trip in St. John’s walking, gawking and eating – the usual vacation pastimes, before heading off on our road trip. The weather was cold, and most days were cloudy, foggy and windy – even the locals were complaining about it – “The coldest June since 1932”. Sure. Didn’t matter one bit to me – nothing rains on my parade.
