2100 Tuesday August 16
We woke up to a cool, grey Newfoundland morning at Ireland's Eye. Annie and I were determined to go ashore at our anchorage in Traytown Harbor on Ireland's Eye and do the hour hike to the smaller harbor of Ireland's Eye proper. We took the inflatable dinghy and tied to an old fisherman's stage (small work shed and pier of rough hewn logs); the stage was old, rickety and wizened. It harkened to an era when this island was livelier in the days of a healthy cod fishery. Ireland's Eye has been a slowly crumbling reminder of a bygone era. Today there are perhaps three fishermen with active stages on the whole island, used only seasonally.
We set off across the island on ancient trails that were probably once well worn by island
residents; but, now are quite overgrown, yet passable. Through woodlands and moist bogs we trekked for an hour. Towards the end of that time we passed by a charming graveyard with moss and shrubs taking over the tombstones. The names and ages, dating back to the 1800s, were another reminder of the vital community that once fished from the island. Finally we came out on a hilltop with the remains of a quaint and sizeable church that now lies in heaps of weathered timbers on the ground. When I first came here in 1977, the church still stood proud over the ghost town of cottages that were Ireland's Eye. Now, only scattered planks or timbers are all that speak to old fishing stages and homes of outport life on an out island.
We hiked another hour back to the dinghy and returned to Tazzarin, hauled anchor and wended out of Traytown Harbour. It was a 22 mile run back across Trinity Bay to the still bustling outport of Old Perlican, Tonight we are tied up amongst a handsome array of
fishing vessels that attest to some fisheries in Newfoundland still providing a living. If you look carefully at this post's second photo, you can pick out Tazzarin's blue bow and mast between the fishing boats.
Even these working fishing communities are threatened. When we were in Bay De Verde a couple of nights ago, we met a woman whose whole family had fished. Men fished, the whole family split cod, salted it and placed on flakes to dry in the sun. The woman told us there are few young people left in Bay De Verde; of her children, one has moved to St. John's, the other to Halifax - life in the big city providing what they want. Last week in St. John's we spoke to a waitress in a restaurant there who said she was one of two seniors in her graduating class. The year before there were four seniors. The school in Bay De Verde has closed; children there are bussed to the bigger outport of Old Perlican for school. What will the future hold?
Finally, a quick thank you to my sailing pal John Winchester in New York City. Since leaving to cruise with the rebuilt engine and Annie, Tazzarin has been off the grid and out of cell phone range. So, all my communications are sent out to John by satellite uplink. He then configures and formats things to send the text and photos on to you. Without John on duty, my link to you would be gone.
Bill
