Laborious journeys
Artists’ take on travelling N.L.
Ridgy ice, frost and cold. It is Jan. 14, 1811 and Capt. David Buchan is resuming his journey up the Exploits River in central Newfoundland, looking for “native Indians.” He is heading into the interior of the island and it sounds like tough going.
“Wind northwest with sharp, piercing weather ... as far as the eye could discern up the river, nothing but ridgy ice, its aspect almost precluded the possibility of conveying the sledges along ... 3-1/2 p.m., put up on the north side and fenced around the fireplace for shelter. This day’s laborious journey I compute to be seven miles; the crew from excessive fatigue and the night somewhat milder than last, had some sleep.”
“January 15th., Blowing fresh from west north-west to north north-west, with snow at times ... at 3 p.m. stopped on the north bank for the night one mile above the Rattling Brook which empties itself into this river.”
Milder weather on the 15th made the team’s spirits lighter but, true to Newfoundland form, the very next day delivered a sharp frost. The day after that, “south-westerly winds, sleet and raw cold.”
Buchan and companions saw the occasional path, some old wigwams and other signs of the Indians but, no people. His expedition was termed by “illfated” by James Howley in his 1914 book, “The Beothucks or Red Indians.”
Monday, May 4, 1970: “I awoke at 5:30 a.m. to see the sunrise: a big, red ball of fire that reflected off the loose pans of ice like a giant red balloon, welcoming us all home. Went back to bed and got up at 7:00 a.m. when I discovered we were now in clear water. All hands were cheerful at breakfast, glad to finally be going home. We are just off Cape Freels and this voyage seems to be coming to an end. If everything goes well today, we will be in St. John’s tonight. Never did I think I would see land again. We are finally ice-free which is hard to believe after spending almost four weeks jammed tight in the unrelenting ice.”
Artist George Noseworthy, from the diary of his trip aboard the sealing vessel, M.V. Chesley A. Crosbie.
Northern lights and mosquitoes
“We went aboard the Harmony under a display of Northern Lights which streamed out one moment in misty white rays from horizon to zenith and presently changed to rolling clouds of intenser brightness, while a white ribbon like a wind-blown torch-flame took on a lovely rose-and-rainbow edging. We noticed that the watch had begun to wear veils to protect them from the mosquitoes. Early the next morning the Harmony left for Nain which meant a day’s run of some 95 miles (from Hopedale) through narrow fiordlike reaches of sea between the long stretch of uncounted islands and the mainland ... it had been a long, glorious summer day with hardly a ripple upon the water, but our pleasure was rather marred by the advent of mosquitoes which came aboard from every bluff we neared and grew more numerous as the hours wore on.”
Hesketh Prichard, form “Through Trackless Labrador,” 1911.
Summer on lashing seas
“Soon after midnight the light at Cape Ray was sighted ... we kept at sea. And when I took my watch at 8:00, there, astern and off our starboard beam, lay Newfoundland. Not Newfoundland as I had first seen it here at sunrise years ago, a brown and golden land with the sun glistening from its mountain faces ... but a grim land shrouded in scud, steel grey against the low dark ceiling of the sky ... the northern raged, lashing the mountain seas, beating their crests and whipping them to vapour. And every hour increased its fury. Slow work and hard to beat to windward in a gale like this! There was no comfort on board and nobody cared. On duty you hung to the tiller and took what came. Off duty you went to bed.”
Rockwell Kent, artist and writer, late June 1929; from his 1930 book “N by E”, in which he and two companions sailed in the 30-foot cutter “Direction” from New York, via Nova Scotia, past Newfoundland to Greenland.
Seasickness
“The second day out, what I feared all the time came to pass. I was seasick. My confirmation classes had tended to strengthen my belief in prayer and I had prayed strenuously that I wouldn’t be seasick while with Uncle John. I didn’t want the hardy old son of Neptune to see me as the helpless, wretched, retching object I became when my semi-circular canals lost their equilibrium. But it was all to no avail. My stomach finally revolted and cast its bread upon the waters.”
Art Scammell from “My Newfoundland,” 1966. As a boy of 13, about to be confirmed, he is out on the water off Fogo to earn a little money fishing with Uncle John.