As I would have done it. (chinamike) My one-man invasion of Ramea is complete. I had taken the island by storm (yeah, right!) and it is mine…on film at least. There were no hostages taken except my heart to these wonderful people. As I did do it. Sort of, but with a smile. I’ve learned […]Read More A thundering herd of…one?
With all apologies to the bard (Ramea, O’ Ramea, where art thou O’ Ramea?), Ramea is a small island off the southern coast of Newfoundland and I arrived safely on the good ship (well, ferry) Gallipoli. For those who may be history minded, Gallipoli is the name of a horrible battle in World War I […]Read More Abducted by sea turtles AND the talk of the town.
It’s probably a good bet Jimi Hendrix was not singing about the skies in Newfoundland and more’s the pity. Nowhere have I seen a more dramatic skyscape than up on The Rock. Now you may be thinking, “It’s a sky. So what? Big deal!” Well, yeah, it is a big deal. It will show you […]Read More ‘Scuse me, while I kiss the sky.
Sometime during this, my second trip to Newfoundland, I mused upon the events that led me there. Having previously written about how this whole idea came about, this is not to be a rehashing of that. I’ll probably indulge myself to do so though at some future time begging one’s patience. It’s also not how […]Read More How did I get here?
There used to be only the Big Three automakers – Ford, GM, and Chrysler. That was it. None of the others that populate our driveways today were in sight back then. Life it seems was much simpler then. This is a Ford. So imagine my surprise when I heard about fjords. I was certain some […]Read More There’s a fjord in your future.
On the western coast of Newfoundland, I drive through such towns as Cow Head, Sally’s Cove, Three Mile Rock, (not to be confused with the atomic town in Pennsylvania), and Spudgels Cove. (Who was Spudgels that he was important enough to have a cove named after him?) Each one of these has it’s own personality […]Read More Lobsters and a screw cap.
The moment of truth had arrived. Not the result of downing an uncounted number of Jager shots; nor the facing of a mildly enraged bull. No, those pale in comparison. With camera in hand and way too many rolls of film, I venture out to start what I came up here for… taking photographs. But, […]Read More Shooting without a license or a clue.