Newfoundland Magic

We put on a happy face and enjoy our delicious cooked breakfast at Captain’s Legacy B&B in Twillingate despite the rain that is falling outside. When we can’t postpone the minutes any longer we wipe off the bike and set out. Because the Twillingate islands are postcard beautiful they are some of the most photographed parts of Newfoundland. In addition to rugged natural beauty their relative isolation has helped the inhabitants maintain traditional ways and buildings.
We ride around some and stop to chat with Melvin Horwood who has made a little museum from his fishing shed when he retired. His picturesque property graces the cover of Frommer’s travel guide and many other travel publications. Like many older Newfoundlanders, he has not traveled from the Rock much but he loves to chat with the tourists from all over the world who come to Twillingate.
We ride back to Boyd’s Cove on Hwy 340 and then follow 331 to Gander Bay South where we intend to continue the Kittiwake Coast route around to New-Wes-Valley but it is pouring and we decide to head directly to Gander and the TransCanada Hwy. The TCH has the best road conditions, services and is not overly busy in Newfoundland so it is the best choice when the weather is bad. The rain eases up and we zip through Gander, Gambo, and Terra Nova National Park.
At Port Blanchard we take Hwy 233 which is a mistake as it’s under construction but we persevere until we get to Hwy 230 as that will take us to Bonavista , our destination. If we hadn’t been to Bonavista before we may have given up about 40 kms south of the town as we hit thick. cold fog in addition to the rain. Bonavista is one of the most important historic towns in Newfoundland as it is where John Cabot sighted land in 1497, claimed the island for Britain, and reported the plentiful cod stocks. The mercantile complex Ryan Premises National Historic site commemorates over 500 years of fishing on the East Coast.
We reserved the Harbourview B&B months ago because it is beside the Ryan Premises, on the harbour, and close to downtown. On first sight we hope we’ve made the right choice as it’s a bit of a shabby old house with a very interesting décor, however, it is clean, we have a view of the sea, and sun begins to break through the fog. Our fellow guests trickle in: two Coast Guard men, a couple from Australia, and a family of three from Ottawa. Our elderly hostess, who lives in the house next door, tells us her husband is out fishing, urges us to make ourselves at home and reminds us that they will be over to visit and serve a “lunch” about 9:30 pm. The Australian couple are mystified and ask us what to expect so we explain that in many of the B&B’s run by Newfoundlanders, who have strong roots in their communities and a tradition of hospitality, there is an evening teatime get-together.
After a supper of pizza we walk along the harbour for the sunset and see whales spouting - the last time we were here we also saw whales so we take this sighting as a good omen that all the hard riding in the rain was worth it. As the dusk gathers back at the B&B, we sit around two kitchen tables pushed together and covered with vinyl tablecloths to visit with the other guests.
One of the fascinating things about Newfoundland is that working people also stay in B&B’s and tonight we are so lucky because the two Coast Guard men are very entertaining and they’ve brought a big bag of cooked snow crab! These men could drive home as they’re within 200 kms but two evenings ago they hit a moose and although they weren’t hurt, their one ton CG pick-up was a write-off. They have a new truck but promised their wives they won’t tempt fate tonight.
Newfoundlanders say you won’t want to eat lobster once you’ve eaten snow crab and tonight we find out the truth of that. Then our hosts come over with bowls of blueberries, raspberries, and shrimp, that they serve with crackers and strong tea (for the non-drinkers). About the time that we’re all stuffed our hostess brings out a huge partridge berry flan and proceeds to cut great big slices for all of us. We all sit around swapping stories and jokes until after midnight (there is no point in going to bed anyway, as our lone teenager finds out, as the old house has no soundproofing and you can hear every sound). Albert, our 72 year young host, whose face is seamed and brown from the sea is particularly loquacious. When we tell him our tur/tourist story he laughs until he cries. We finally drag ourselves upstairs, open the windows wide to let the sea air and wave rhythm into the room before we sleep