The language of Newfoundlanders can be confounding to many (myself included), as their speech is sprinkled with phrases unheard of on the mainland. For example, “What’s after happening now” means “what did I miss?” or “what is everyone talking about?” As in, if you walk into a room of people laughing and want to know what is so funny. This blog post, long over-due, is our way of filling you in on what’s been happening with us lately, as though you’d walked into this cyber-room to find us laughing about something (which we usually are), and asked us, “What’s after happenin’ now?”
Our latest laughs have been adrenaline induced. Yesterday, our friends at Trinity Eco-Tours took us out for a tour of the Trinity harbour via kayak. Mel and Martha had been out cod fishing the day before (rejoice! It’s cod season in Trinity!) and had seen whales blowing just off the stern of their little boat. While the fish they brought home (which we beer-battered and shovelled straight from the pan to our mouths) was delicious and literally as fresh as one can get, I was unspeakably jealous that they had been up close and personal with humpbacks. “I’ll have my chance to see them” I told Mel as we paddled out to sea on what turned out to be one of the calmest days Trinity harbour has seen this summer. “I know,” she said, “but still, you should have seen them!”
After we’d paddled and drifted, paddled and drifted, for about forty minutes, Martha signaled our attention to the spray of a whale about five kilometers away. Mel and I paddled enthusiastically towards it, knowing we would never cover that substantial a distance but hoping he or she would hear our whale calls (embarrassingly similar to those of Dori in Finding Nemo) and meet us halfway. Suddenly, about a hundred feet off our bow, a humpback breached fully out of the water, leaving only its tail beneath the waves, and came crashing down again with a resounding splash. As that whale submerged, another two flashed their fins even closer to us, and then more and more fin whales appeared until we were surrounded and no longer knew where to look to take it all in. Once they were gone, dolphins appeared and played in circles around us. It was absolutely magical, and our visceral response was to giggle hysterically and unstoppably, vibrating the thin layer of plastic separating us from leagues and leagues of black Atlantic waves and blacker Atlantic whales.
I wish we had pictures to go with this, but unfortunately none of us had waterproof cameras. It’s really something you have to see to believe anyway, so I guess you’ll have to book a tour to get the experience yourself! Here’s a link to the Trinity Eco-Tours site so you can see some of the pictures they’ve taken on their various adventures on the water:
In other news, Martha and I spent a lovely afternoon touring the little town of Trinity proper. In the hot July sun, we marched up Gun Hill, the highest point in the area, and were absolutely astounded by the view. It’s one of those places where you feel your breath catch in your chest a little as it fills with the weight and sublimity of the moment.
We sat in silence for several minutes, watching the cloud shadows race along the landscape of our scale-model town, and then slowly wound back down the path. Once at sea level, we indulged in some ice cream cones at The Trinity Mercantile, then headed to the beach volleyball courts in the center of town for some rallies. Have I mentioned that I love Newfoundland?