Alexandersmap

    Tag: Newfoundland

    • Small and Green and Hard

      “At first the fruit is small and
      green and hard.
      Everything has dreams,
      hope, ambition
      – Mary Oliver, Someday

      I was thinking about a post I made on social media three years ago next month. Newfoundland. I’d gotten up early, as I usually do, and drove to the eastern edge of the continental North America for sunrise. A month after that photo I was on the western edge of continental Europe taking in the the crashing ocean and looking back towards where I was from.

      I looked like quite a world traveler on social media, but a week after that trip to Portugal I was unemployed. I didn’t post that on social media. I just scrambled to reach out to my contacts and find meaningful work as quickly as possible. We tend to amplify the positive: trips, events, big meals, relationships… the highlight reel stuff.

      That month of unemployment transformed my writing from a once in a while thing to an every day thing. I switched from Blogger to WordPress, found my voice through repetition and trips to local places, read a lot, and mostly just wrote. The fruit of my labor is still small and green and hard, but I see it ripening. At least I believe it to be so.

      We’re all works in progress, they say. Mastery is elusive. Ten thousand hours elusive. Lifetime elusive. But the art is in the doing, day in and day out. When the fruit is small and green and hard and you’re hungry it seems like it will never ripen. But being a bit hungry is where the art comes from. There’s nothing burning inside when you’re well-fed and satiated. The mind says maybe this is enough.

      In the spring my apple trees were a wonder of showy blooms. I was thrilled and dreamed of a rich harvest. But the dry summer transformed that bounty of blooms into a few deformed, tiny apples. By contrast the grapes were bountiful this year and fed the birds and yellow jackets when I couldn’t keep up. Funny the way two plants of the same age react to the same conditions, isn’t it?

      Everything has dreams, hope, ambition. We never know what will ripen and bear fruit. How the seasons will shape us. But fruit withers without focused energy. So we must keep at it.

    • Unfinished Business

      Lately I’ve been re-building lists. Lists of unfinished business I have to get to. Things to see and do, as soon as this other business is over. You might call it a bucket list, but for me I’ll stick with unfinished business.  Take a blank map, color in where you’ve been and you quickly see that there’s so much you’ll never see.  And that’s okay, I don’t want to see everything, but I do want to see some things.  Let’s begin with these.

      The Aurora Borealis has long been on this list, dancing just out of reach with the Southern Cross on the far ends of the earth sky. I suppose I’ll get to each eventually, beginning in the north, where I sit, just out of reach, thinking about such things. I blame Crosby, Stills & Nash for sticking the Southern Cross in my head, just as I blame Local Hero for my obsession with the Northern Lights. Remove “blame”, add “credit” if you will.

      And then there’s sailing across the Atlantic Ocean (and back again on a southern route).  Long list on both sides of the pond, and of course in between.  Iceberg spotting in Newfoundland, hoisting a pint at The Brazen Head in Dublin, a fish sandwich on raisin bread at Woody’s in Bermuda, and lately, Christmas in Salzburg and Hallstatt without the throngs of tourists.  I definitely have unfinished business in Scotland, beginning with The Quiraing and the sunset at Neist Point and heading south to an immersive distillery tour in Islay. Across the channel and Normandy calls, and then a host of other Sirens scattered about Europe, taunting me; There’s no time to waste, you fool.  Don’t worry, other Sirens, I haven’t forgotten you…

      Another west coast calls me; Napa and some time with those redwoods, a drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Monteray and Big Sur and a trip inland to Yosemite.  There’s something about west coasts that draw me, I suppose. Maybe it’s that restless northeast kid longing to get out there?  I’m a sunrise guy (greet the day!), but I do love a good sunset too.  I’ll follow the sun and see where it leads me.  Perhaps it will lead me to unfinished business in faraway places like Cocos Island and Easter Island and Iguazu Falls in Argentina and Machu Picchu in Peru.  I’ve never given you enough attention South America.  That’s an omission I hope to remedy, given the chance.

      And what of the world beyond?  So much unfinished business from Hawaii to the South Pacific to Australia to New Zealand to Asia and India and Africa all stacked up waiting their turn.  So much to do, so little time…  unfinished business all of it.  So let’s get this pandemic behind us, there’s a world to see, and precious little runway to take off.  Join me?

    • These Streets

      I’m thinking back fondly on some of the streets I’ve walked along when being in close proximity to thousands of people seemed desirable. Someday we’ll walk amongst others again without unconsciously holding our breath or measuring out six feet of space in our heads. Here are six I look forward to visiting again someday should the travel gods smile favorably upon me:

      La Rambla in Barcelona
      If you want to see Gaudi, walk down the bustling Passeig de Gràcia or take a ride over to see La Sagrada Familia.  But if you want to avoid the roar of traffic and absorb the energy of Barcelona, walk down La Rambla, stop for tapas at one of the many restaurants and stroll off the calories on this pedestrian way.  I walked La Rambla in January with a light coat on and it was still fully alive.  I would love to visit in other seasons to see how it transforms when it’s really full.

      Duval Street in Key West
      Slip on your flip flops and stroll the full length of Duval Street during the day and try the same journey at night.  It’s jammed full of people determined to have a great time, and that’s easy to find on this street.  Start your morning at the Southernmost Point and cap the daylight hours at Mallory Square, just off Duval Street.  If you’re lucky maybe you’ll see a green flash.  When the sun sets return to Duval Street for some evening fun.  Like many people I found my way into Sloppy Joe’s a few times for live music with something to wash it down with.

      Broadway in Nashville
      Wander around the honky-tonks on the lower part of Broadway and you’ll fall in love with the energy of this city.  I was just there a few weeks ago, just as the world was flipping around into the new reality.  Timing is everything I guess.  A perfect time to visit would be during a normal SEC tournament or in the fall when the Tennessee Titans are playing just across the river.  Walk back after the game and soak up the live music poring out of every bar.  Walk up to a rooftop bar for a view of the city.  If you love live music this is the street for you.  Just make sure you’re over 21 to get into the honky-tonks.

      The Royal Mile in Edinburgh
      The Royal Mile is a walk in the footsteps of history.  Sure, that’s cliche, but it fits well on this street, or rather, these streets.  The Royal Mile is made up of High Street, Lawnmarket and finally Castlehill as you approach it’s namesake.  Edinburgh Castle commands the city as it has for centuries.  But a walk to the bottom of The Royal Mile has it’s own rewards with a visit to The Palace Of Holyroodhouse (open when the Queen isn’t in residence).  In between is plenty of touristy shopping, some very enjoyable side trips down the many Closes, each with their own personality.  Want to burn more of that haggis off?  Extend your walk with a hike to the summit of Arthur’s Seat and the 360 degree view of forever.  If you’re lucky you’ll catch a rainbow but avoid the source.

      Boylston Street in Boston
      There are plenty of famous streets in Boston, with Beacon Street, Lansdowne Street, Commonwealth Avenue and Newbury Street each offering something unique.  But Boylston Street has a special place in my heart one day every year, and that’s Patriot’s Day.  That’s the day when the Boston Marathon finishes on Boylston Street and Red Sox fans pour onto the street after the early game and Boylston Street comes alive with an incredible vibrancy that you look forward to all year.  This year won’t be the same with the pandemic postponing both the marathon and the start of the baseball season, but hopefully a year from now we’re talking about Patriot’s Day in Boston once again.

      George Street in St John’s, Newfoundland
      The shortest street on this list, George Street in St John’s is jammed full of bars.  This is a sailor’s town if I ever met one, and it’s highly likely most sailors have made their way onto George Street when they spend any time at all here.  I fell in love with St John’s during my one visit, and I still can’t believe I haven’t been back again since then.  Someday, maybe.  Just like all the rest of the streets on this list.

      The Royal Mile, Edinburgh

    • Iceberg Season

      This morning I was thinking about icebergs.  It’s iceberg season in Newfoundland, with more than 1200 released from sea ice and parading past the ruggedly beautiful eastern coast.  Icebergs are big business as tourists flock to see them, much as tourists flock to see Great White sharks now on Cape Cod.  The world has a curiosity about icebergs that goes back to the day the Titanic sank.  There’s something mystical and romantic about these roaming islands of ice marching from their icy prison in the north where they’ve been locked away for millennia to southern waters where they reunite with the blended waters of the world.  Romantic until you run into one anyway.

      Scanning the iceberg sightings this year made me think about my time on Signal Hill in December of 2017.  Signal Hill is impressive without the draw of icebergs floating by you, I can imagine the crowds there on a Saturday with an iceberg floating by.  My time there, documented early in this blog’s history, was memorable but certainly not crowded.  Little did I know at the time that I wouldn’t be back there again any time soon.  It remains on my short list of places I’d love to get back to.

      Environment and Climate Change Canada tracks iceberg activity and states that most of the icebergs that you see in the North Atlantic are calving from glaciers in Western Greenland, with between 10,000 and 40,000 icebergs annually.  I had no idea there were that many in a season.  To be categorized as an iceberg the ice has to be at least 5 meters above the sea level.  That’s the starting point, and icebergs get much bigger from there.  Those that miss the 5 meter cut are still navigation hazards.

      So icebergs triggered my wanderlust affliction, which is always lingering just below the surface.  Surely a trip to Labrador and Newfoundland in April would be a great mix of Aurora Borealis and icebergs.  Frankly I wonder why I haven’t done this trip already.  So much to see and do in this world, and two things I’ve always wanted to see are just out of reach this season.

    • Fogtown

      Fogtown

      A few weeks back, with time to kill before my flight home from Newfoundland, I drove to the top of Signal Hill and walked out to North Head.  Signal Hill offers stunning views of St. John’s Harbor and The Narrows, and East to the Atlantic Ocean.  It’s a place I’d love to linger at on a warm summer day.  But this was December, and the wind stung as I took in the view from the top of the hill.  Not a beach day at all, but the overcast skies cooperated enough to give me a view.  Looking out at North Head, I noticed a couple of red Adirondack chairs in two spots along the North Head Trail, cleverly placed to draw the eye, give walkers a place to rest a spell and at that moment to stir my wanderlust.  Not very far at all, perhaps 20 minutes or so, and despite the wind and the raw day I felt the urge to visit those chairs.

      In the time it took me to walk down the boardwalk stairs and out to North Head the fog that gives St. John’s it’s nickname rolled in fast and hard.  The last couple of people out on North Head hurried past me on their way back to their car, leaving me alone out on the trail, with visibility rapidly decreasing and nothing but the blaring foghorn marking the Narrows to keep me company.  That foghorn reminded me of the horns blowing on the Wall on Game of Thrones as the White Walkers approached, and frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see one walking out of the mist towards me.  Or perhaps the ghosts of Leif Erickson, the lost-to-history Beothuk tribe, the French or British soldiers who fought here in the last battle of the Seven Years War or maybe just the countless tourists who stumbled away from George Street long enough to walk these cliffs before me.  

      Alone out on North Head with the fog swirling and the horn calling out its warning, it was easy to imagine them all marching by me, and the moment stays with me still, almost a month later.  I hope to visit St. John’s many times over the years ahead, but we all know that men make plans and God laughs.  Here’s hoping that fate brings me back for a longer spell next time.

    • Alexander’s Map

      Alexander’s Map

      A new year, and a new pursuit; this blog.  So why the name?

      Alexander’s Map is a rare map published in 1624 to encourage colonization of the lands granted to William Alexander.  The map gives an early, if inaccurate, glimpse at this region that I’m so fascinated with.  Alexander’s Map stretches from present-day Massachusetts to Newfoundland to the northeast and Quebec (“New France”) to the north.  
      My blog will cover observations from living in this region, and will also include observations from as far west as Buffalo and as far south as New Jersey.  This is where I spend much of my time, and with so much history, food, sports and geological and cultural diversity to explore it will be fun to explore this in writing.  I hope you’ll enjoy the journey with me.