In the morning, Sophia and I go over to the ferry station. Today we are traveling on the Apollo to Newfoundland. Our assignment is to teach the crew the importance of being an observer on their trips back and forth between here and Newfoundland. The purser, Martin, is very excited to see us and tells us we are not to worry about paying for any rides and we are welcome to come on at any time. We walk onto the vessel to find a sitting room and bar, a cafeteria with video games and even a ball play pen. Martin finds us again and brings us up to the captains deck to meet the captain and the 2nd mate.
The captain is a dark man, as though he has many secrets up his sleeve. As Sophia begins to explain what we are doing he seems very hesitant to distract the crew from their job. She explains that all she is asking is for someone to write down in a book that we are giving them anytime they see a whale. The 2nd mate seems excited and gladly takes on the job. They always see many whales. We’re grateful to have more observers helping us out.
Our main project is the Marine Species at Risk program. We ask fishermen and other frequent water travelers to observe the marine animals in the area. We give them charts to identify whales, sharks and wolfish. If they see one, they write down the type of animal, the time they saw it and certain behaviors that it is showing off. We also give the observers a camera in hopes they are able to take a picture of the animal as proof. Many people believe that many of the species that are claimed to be around here in fact are not. With the help of these observers, we can prove the biodiversity in the region and keep accounts of the populations of already endangered animals and animals at risk, such as the blue whale and the sperm whale. The most common whales seen in this area are humpback whales and minke whales, but there have been past sightings of sperm whales, blue whales, beluga whales, killer whales and, at one time, the right whale.
We head back below. As we travel across the Atlantic from Quebec to Newfoundland, the boat is rocking back and forth so it is very hard to walk. I am weary and head outside to talk to some passengers. Suddenly a woman exclaims, “Look! Over there! Whales!” In the distance, spouts of water fly into the air. Sophia quickly takes out her observation book and begins writing down the time. She hands me the binoculars to see what type of whale it is. As I am watching I see a small fin emerge from the water. The whales keep swimming and expelling the water to breathe. I realize that the whale is showing no sign of a tail. I determine that there are three or four Minke whales. Sophia takes the binoculars to confirm by the shape of the fin.
We arrive in Newfoundland as a puff of black exhaust leaves the Apollo. We approach towns that look as if no more than 10 people live in them. There are all sorts of boats anchored in the water and it is obvious what everyone does for a living. The land is very flat and has tall trees. There is more grass than moss, and I wonder why the landscape here is so different from Quebec even though the two places are only eight kilometers away from each other. After passing a couple of towns, we finally dock. Sophia and I stay on the boat until it leaves for Blanc Sablon a little time later. Our ride back isn’t as exciting as we just sit inside and watch the boat roll over the waves. We see two more Minke whales on our way back, and a puffin flies by the window. When we arrive, Trish’s husband, Rudolph, is waiting for us with his two daughters. He declares that we are going out to supper with them in Labrador.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Thursday, July 5 . . . Working with Kids
Today is the first day at the coasters camp. There are two other counselors here: Megan and Alex. Megan, short with brown hair, is 18. She wears clothes that look new and inappropriate for a kid’s camp. Alex is a little awkward, but is very flattered by Sophia, my extremely friendly roommate. Sophia is also a little older than the rest of us, and she stays the morning to help me out. At first I have trouble with getting the kids to listen to me, but as I play more games with them I figure out how ways to teach them about climate change and the environment while holding their attention. I go home exhausted after running around, racing the little boys.
The next two days, Sophia and I hang around the house trying to find things to do. Trish is still in the hospital, and we have done mostly everything on the list. We have ridden the ferry across to Newfoundland and called fisherman to see if they have seen any whales and written it down. I called the recycling center in Labrador and we plan to meet on Tuesday to learn about setting up our own center in Blanc Sablon. When I wake up on Saturday morning, I see the worst fog I have seen yet. The trees that stand about 20 feet away aren’t even in sight anymore. Since it is Saturday, we don’t have to work today so we hang around the house, hiding from the sagging fog outside.
The next two days, Sophia and I hang around the house trying to find things to do. Trish is still in the hospital, and we have done mostly everything on the list. We have ridden the ferry across to Newfoundland and called fisherman to see if they have seen any whales and written it down. I called the recycling center in Labrador and we plan to meet on Tuesday to learn about setting up our own center in Blanc Sablon. When I wake up on Saturday morning, I see the worst fog I have seen yet. The trees that stand about 20 feet away aren’t even in sight anymore. Since it is Saturday, we don’t have to work today so we hang around the house, hiding from the sagging fog outside.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Wednesday, July 4 . . . Driving to Labrador
Today we are traveling up the lone road out of town, into Labrador. Our little car climbs up the huge hill, turning at the top as we round the corner of the cliff that we can see from our house. We pass through the first town then, ahead is a straight road with hills, valleys, and grass on our right and left. One long lake has a floatplane docked at the only house we’ve seen on the road. We climb up another hill and before us is the ocean. We can see a few icebergs of different sizes. The rays bounce off the ice and I can see the deep blue beneath the surface where the ice is more dense.
The land in Labrador is vast. Brown, grey, and green fill my eyes. There are hills, cliffs of rocks, and clusters of small trees. We travel parallel to the ocean. Each small village sits on its own separate bay, and although there are many curves, there is only one road that connects them all. The ocean always seems to reappear over the next great hill.
The land in Labrador is vast. Brown, grey, and green fill my eyes. There are hills, cliffs of rocks, and clusters of small trees. We travel parallel to the ocean. Each small village sits on its own separate bay, and although there are many curves, there is only one road that connects them all. The ocean always seems to reappear over the next great hill.
Tuesday, July 3 . . . Rain
Today, I come up with some activities for the kids at the local camp to do on Thursday. I look out the window, and I see the water is as still as glass. The sun is setting, however there is no water in the east so I look out on the cliffs and valley to see the sun go down through the clouds. It’s a brilliant pink and orange color that lights up all the clouds, except the ones in the far distance. Dark, black clouds tower over the citrus colors. The water is disturbed as it begins to rain harder and harder. I step outside and if I listen closely I can hear the water hitting each wave of the ocean. I go back inside before I get too wet, and I spend the night listening to the pitter-patter on the roof above me, eventually soothing me to sleep.
Monday, July 2 . . . Exploring
Today there is not much work to do so we decide to take a drive. We can still see the ocean but we are now traveling deeper into the hills. We pass by a little lake surrounded by hills. It is as peaceful as a sleeping baby. We approach a rushing river that is flowing into the low tide ocean. I look to see where the river is coming from, and I see we have been driving by a huge mountainside.
We stop the car and climb up the side to get a closer look. It appears that we could jump across the waterfall that cuts the slope in half, but as we approach the cliff the other side seems miles away.
We hike back to the car and drive for a little longer. The road dead ends, so we turn around and hang around at the house. When night approaches the moon comes out. I understand the myth about the moon being made out of cheese. Perhaps orange American cheese, however. It is so bright, like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. The rest of the sky is filled with millions of stars. Between living right near the water, and the clear night sky, there is something twinkling all day.
We stop the car and climb up the side to get a closer look. It appears that we could jump across the waterfall that cuts the slope in half, but as we approach the cliff the other side seems miles away.
We hike back to the car and drive for a little longer. The road dead ends, so we turn around and hang around at the house. When night approaches the moon comes out. I understand the myth about the moon being made out of cheese. Perhaps orange American cheese, however. It is so bright, like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. The rest of the sky is filled with millions of stars. Between living right near the water, and the clear night sky, there is something twinkling all day.
Sunday, July 1 . . . Capelins and Fireworks
This morning I do not wake up until late, but the sun is shining down on me in my room. As I go downstairs to eat breakfast, I see it. The sun reflects off the water, twinkling like diamonds. From the same window I see a point where the land ends. Everything is rugged. Greens and browns blend together to create a hill, and a gray road leads to another town over the hill. Our house is right on the bay, and behind our shed is where the ferry to Newfoundland departs.
We are in the town of Blanc Sablon, which consists of residences and a few stores, including a grocery. An inlet of water separates us from the rest of the town. I walk outside to feel the warm sun mix with the cool breeze. Shrubs and newly planted pine trees surround me. Right next to the deck bloom little white flowers; later on in the season, bakeapple will begin growing right in our backyard. Rocks, grass and flowers cover the ground and slowly give way to our dirt driveway.
A Minke whale skull and a piece of vertebrae lie in our yard like we were fisherman and these were the remains of what we had caught. Sophia calls my name to look out the window on the other side of the house. I see an owl, and at the moment it’s swooping through the hills and cliffs. Huge rocks dot the landscape and the owl flies toward them through the valley. Then it flies back toward our house and hides behind a rock across the road. As we look more closely, we see it’s eating lunch.
We take a drive back down to the beach. As we start down a hill we see more houses, but mostly the vast sea. We climb down to the beach. We are lucky today; the capelins are rolling. Capelins, to escape from the whales, come to the shoreline to breed. There are thousands of them splashing up with the waves. At first they look like a black cloud in the water, but then they shine like a mermaid’s tail. I stick my hand into the ice-cold water, and after a couple of attempts I finally grab a fish. It flops back and forth in my hand and I can’t stand to kill it, so I throw it back into the water with all the others.
We return home just in time to see the Canada Day parade drive by our house. Red and white decorates every car; drivers honk their horns as we wave. We hear music coming from in town where there are more festivities. We walk over to say hi to the locals at their barbecue.
On our way back we walk on the shore of the inlet. There are rocks in the water like stepping stones, and tiny waves break on the shore. One fisherman is suited up, and I wonder if he catches anything at such a low tide. We explore an old rusted ship stranded ashore, but there is not much to it. So we climb back up the bank, on the uneven grass and rocks. We must be careful not to fall into any ditches. That night we watch a small fireworks display from our porch. They’re not extravagant but are enough to light up the sky with pink, green, and white.
We are in the town of Blanc Sablon, which consists of residences and a few stores, including a grocery. An inlet of water separates us from the rest of the town. I walk outside to feel the warm sun mix with the cool breeze. Shrubs and newly planted pine trees surround me. Right next to the deck bloom little white flowers; later on in the season, bakeapple will begin growing right in our backyard. Rocks, grass and flowers cover the ground and slowly give way to our dirt driveway.
A Minke whale skull and a piece of vertebrae lie in our yard like we were fisherman and these were the remains of what we had caught. Sophia calls my name to look out the window on the other side of the house. I see an owl, and at the moment it’s swooping through the hills and cliffs. Huge rocks dot the landscape and the owl flies toward them through the valley. Then it flies back toward our house and hides behind a rock across the road. As we look more closely, we see it’s eating lunch.
We take a drive back down to the beach. As we start down a hill we see more houses, but mostly the vast sea. We climb down to the beach. We are lucky today; the capelins are rolling. Capelins, to escape from the whales, come to the shoreline to breed. There are thousands of them splashing up with the waves. At first they look like a black cloud in the water, but then they shine like a mermaid’s tail. I stick my hand into the ice-cold water, and after a couple of attempts I finally grab a fish. It flops back and forth in my hand and I can’t stand to kill it, so I throw it back into the water with all the others.
We return home just in time to see the Canada Day parade drive by our house. Red and white decorates every car; drivers honk their horns as we wave. We hear music coming from in town where there are more festivities. We walk over to say hi to the locals at their barbecue.
On our way back we walk on the shore of the inlet. There are rocks in the water like stepping stones, and tiny waves break on the shore. One fisherman is suited up, and I wonder if he catches anything at such a low tide. We explore an old rusted ship stranded ashore, but there is not much to it. So we climb back up the bank, on the uneven grass and rocks. We must be careful not to fall into any ditches. That night we watch a small fireworks display from our porch. They’re not extravagant but are enough to light up the sky with pink, green, and white.
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