Mutton Bay

Well, it had to happen. When I first arrived here, I found the almost
constant wind increasingly annoying. One day I went from place to
place, seeking a spot that was protected, but in each one the wind was
still there. Getting angry with the futility of it all, I went into
the house and said to Randy: "Isn't there someplace where one can get
away from this f***ing wind."

Then, the very next day, there was no wind -- and the black flies came
out for the first time, and in force too. Now you have to understand
that this is the first time in my life (believe it or not) that I have
ever encountered black flies.

That evening I went up on a hill because it appeared as if there was
going to be a good sunset. The flies joined me. They got in my hair and in my ears. They got under my glasses. They got down the back of my shirt and up the legs of my pants. I could see squadrons of them surrounding me on all sides. If I flailed about with my arms to drive them off, they only withdrew several feet to regroup for the next assault. When I brushed them off my windbreaker they left bloody smears. Thus it was that I came to appreciate the wind, because it seemed to be
the only thing that deterred them.

Now each morning I give thanks if there is wind. Fortunately the house
is right beside the water and in a spot where there is almost always a
wind coming off the sea through the opening to the bay.

This week I also took my first spin on the ATV, which is little more
than a motorbike with four wheels. As well as being useful, it's become another way for me to evade the flies, -- and it's fun too now that I'm
getting used to it. One day I took it out on an errand to Tabatiere,
which is at the other end of the road, about 10 km away. On the way I
stopped and with my camera clambered up a rocky hill to a height of
land behind the village. Because of the blessed wind there were no
flies, although it did sometimes make it difficult to hold the camera
steady. But I got some good pics, both spectacular long shots of the
islands in the sea and close-ups of the amazing wildflowers --
rhododendrons, Labrador tea, cotton balls (which seemed to be like
mechanical dancing toys in the wind, an effect that sadly eludes the
camera totally of course), iris, bunchberry, fly traps, myriad mosses
and lichens, and more.

This evening I was out on the ATV again and on the edge of town stopped
to watch a red fox, which was watching a woman a short distance back
down the road walking her dog. Again a first for me, seeing a fox in
its natural setting. It was very sleek and had a gorgeous tail. It
seemed to be intensely interested in the woman and dog, but not
especially concerned for it eventually walked away in their direction.
As for me, about 25 feet away, well it gave me a casual, not to say
somewhat disdainful, glance and then went back to studying the woman
and her dog. Obviously not very smart, eh; I mean, not recognizing
just how formidable and dangerous I can be.

Today was gorgeous -- vivid blue sky with barely a cloud, light breeze,
and a temperature about 1/2 what it is in Toronto (you may weep here).

Randy's away this weekend. The Archbishop asked him to go down to New
Carlisle, in the Gaspe, to interview and preach "for a call." He also
asked me if I'd be willing to take the two services today, Mattins in
Mutton Bay and Evensong in Tabatiere. I agreed, and even cobbled
together a homily out of material cribbed from the internet -- quite
good, I thought, if I do say so. One person, who is a professional
writer, turned up in Mutton Bay this morning and there was no one in Tabatiere
this evening. I gave a copy of the homily to the woman who came out
this morning. She said that with the long holiday weekend and the good
fishing everyone was either working or off at their cottages. Well,
they just don't know what they missed, do they? I was going to let
them know that as Anglicans we have just as good a claim as anyone to
celebrate St. Jean Baptiste Day, and tell them his story.

After Mattins I invited the writer back to the house for coffee and got
an invitation for dinner tomorrow. Not a bad deal at all!

The Trip Down
The trip here was great fun. I took the train from Toronto on Monday
morning two weeks ago, changed trains in Montreal, and arrived in
Rimouski (on the south shore) at about 3:00 a.m. After a night in a
comfortable hotel, I boarded the Nordik Express, which operates as both
the coastal supply ship and a passenger ship serving the Lower North
Shore ports and outport communities. For most of these the only link
between communities and with the outside world is the Nordik or
the daily plane. For emergencies there is a helicopter.

We left Rimouski at about 1:00 p.m. Tuesday. That night we reached our
first port of call, Sept Isles, where the ship stayed most of the
night, loading and unloading containers. The next day at about noon we
reached Port Menier at the western end of Anticosti Island. While the
boat off-loaded freight, the passengers had an opportunity to take a
short tour in a small school bus.

Amongst other things, the island has a large population of deer that
have descended from those taken there by Louis Menier. He was a
chocolatier and poet from Paris who bought the whole island in the 19th
century and had grand, romantic dreams of exploiting its lumber and its
potential for sport hunting and fishing. He seems to have pictured
himself as a benevolent lord of the manor, and built a large "chateau",
the ruins of which have been preserved.



Some of the deer are incredibly tame. They approach humans without
fear, especially if you look as if you might feed them. Most are
reluctant to be touched, but I was able to pet one.

There is nothing grand luxe about the passenger areas of the Nordik, but
they are more than adequate -- comfortable, attractive, well
maintained, and clean. About 60 passengers can be
accomodated in cabins for two and four. There are two large areas on
the top deck, surrounded by glass and fitted out with rows of
comfortable airline-style seats. Another deck has a snack bar and two
TV lounges. Below that is an attractive dining room. The food is not
pretentious, but it's excellent, interestingly prepared and plentiful.
The crew is friendly and very willing to be helpful.

One thing I've had difficulty getting used to is the distances
involved. eg., Quebec City is less than a third of the way here from
Toronto. Mutton Bay is over 2000 km from Toronto. Greenland is closer
than Toronto. Anticosti Island is 50 times the size of the Isle
d'Orleans (the island in the St. Lawrence off Quebec City); it took our
ship the more than 12 hours to travel its length.

As the ship progresses, one has a powerful feeling of leaving
"civilization" behind and of penetrating ever more deeply into remote
territory where tiny communities cling precariously to the rocky
shoreline. OTOH, when you arrive here, you soon discover that it's not
uncivilized at all, although it certainly is remote and
opportunities are very limited.

The Nordik takes three days and three nights to reach La Tabatière.
The round trip to Blanc Sablon (farther down still, on the Labrador
border) and back takes six days. Many of the passengers treat it
as a six-day cruise. I'd recommend it highly to anyone looking for
something unique, interesting and relaxing.

Mutton Bay is a community of about 90 souls, on the coast of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, south of the Strait of Belle Isle and just below the 52nd parallel. A generation ago the population was about 400, but like most of the communities along the coast it has declined.

Almost everyone here, except for the nurse, the postmistress and a German widow, is anglophone, descended from fishermen who came from Newfoundland, England or the Channel Islands in the 19th century. It can be reached only by plane or boat (April through January), or skidoo in the winter. There is a gravel road that connects Mutton Bay with La Tabatière, about 10 km away, but it does not connect with the nearest highway, which is up to 200 km away in either direction.

The weather has been good, mostly sunny with daytime temps about 12 and an almost constant wind off the sea. I'm told that in July and
August it can be very hot, like 35, for extended periods, although with
cool nights. Apparently, the heat builds up in the surrounding hills,
which are mainly bare granite.

I've been out every day exploring and taking photos with my digital
camera, and have some thematic ideas I hope to develop. One is to
photograph the wildflowers. At the present time the bakeapple and bunch berry are
in bloom. The wild rhododendrons, of which there are several varieties growing in profusion, are just beginning to bloom.

Several people have asked me to keep a journal, and the editors of the
church newsletter have asked for an article, so I expect to post occasional reports and photos here. Projects to keep me occupied, you might say.

The Nordik Express at the wharf in Rimouski, Quebec, as it loads passengers and cargo before departing on its weekly, six-day, round trip down the North Shore of the St. Lawrence to Blanc-Sablon at the Quebec-Labrador border.