Bountiful Plentiful: History of the Atlantic Fishing Industry

(google images)

As long as the Innu lived along the Gulf, fishing has been a prominent and necessary activity but when did the big money industry stuff start?
The Vikings 1000 years ago found Newfoundland; of this we have evidence but very little information. We can only assume that while they hung around the Grand Banks they gorged on the bountiful plentiful cod fish. Then the Basque fishermen came over in the 1500’s; they harvested whale blubber, turned it into oil and sent it back to Europe. They also fished for cod. Many other countries came and fished for cod; but still one could not say that the land had been settled. Now akin to the space race; Columbus, Cartier and Cabot; during the 16th C participated in the “find a way to the orient and Africa race” or explorations race. They did not find a route to the orient or Africa but they found fish and fur. Thus all was not lost; they decided to conquer North America and exploit the native’s for their knowledge and the land and sea for their resources. Thankfully technology was so limited back then because there was no limit to the greed of Europeans at that time and we may never have known what a cod fish or a beaver looks like; what would we have put on the nickel? Alright so over the next few centuries the French and English fought over Canada; people across Europe were immigrating to this new land and establishing new settlements. Fish and fur were the economic basis for the entire nation.
From the beginning of the 16th C until the 1950’s fish were caught in a sustainable fashion. This was due mostly because there was no technological means of over-fishing it was based on sheer man power. Fishing technologies evolved over centuries however nothing compared to the advancements during the Second World War. “South of Labrador and east of Newfoundland yielded about 250,000 tonnes for over 100 years,” before the 20th C (greenpeace.org). The peak catch was about 2 million tonnes in the 1960’s (dfo-mpo.gc.ca).

Here is a break down of different fishing methods and technologies:

Fishing Technology:
Handline and jigging are the traditional methods of fishing inshore. A weight and baited hook are attached to a line. Jigging uses lure hooks and is moved up and down; fish are attracted to the motion and are caught one at a time.
Jigging Machines uses the same concept as regular jigging but are operated not by hand but by electric or hydraulic motors.
Longlining is a “series of baited hooks spread along the ocean floor” on a longline. When it was first introduced the fish were retrieved manually but it was later mechanized to automatically haul, bait and shoot. This method allows fishermen to compete on a higher level but still be selective and retain good quality fish.
Hook and line fishing was the main means of extraction from the 15thC to the 19th C and ensured premium fish. In 1865 William H Whiteley from St Paul’s River invented the cod trap and revolutionized the groundfish industry until the 1950’s.
The Bultow was introduced by the French in the 1840’s and is a form of trawler. The Bultow had a hook and line concept but was much more efficient as it had hundreds of metres of line and hundreds of hooks.
Gillnetting is made of monofilament netting and are either sent to the bottom of the sea by weights or are left adrift. The fish try to swim through the netting and get caught by their gills.
Purse Seining surrounds the fish in a web with floats at the top and weights on the bottom to keep it vertical; there is a wire rope that goes through rings on the bottom. “When a school of fish is detected, one end of the seine is taken by a small boat or ‘skiff’. The vessel and skiff then encircle the fish with the net. After receiving the end of the line from the skiff, the vessel begins to winch in the wire cable closing the bottom of the seine and forming a bag-like net around the fish. The other lines are now also winched in, reducing the space inside the net which is then brought alongside the vessel. “The fish are dipped out and put in penned-off sections, boxes, or in the hold of the vessel” (cdli.ca).


Purse Seine (google images)

Otter Trawl is a cone shaped net that allows for only small fish to get through and is towed along the bottom of the ocean with bobbins on the bottom which roll along the ocean floor.
Atlantic Side Trawling is not widely used anymore since most fishermen have abandoned them for more modern technology. Basically the trawl is attached to gallows on the side of the boat.
Stern Trawls make up the majority of the domestic offshore fleets. The trawl is hauled up onto a large ramp that is at the stern on the boat. These trawlers can be operated in bad weather and can fish as deep as 250 fathoms 300 nautical miles off the coast.
Modern draggers are large boats, usually 120-160 ft long, with a capacity of up to about 300,000 lb of fish.


Dragger or Trawler (google images)

Factory Freezers
After World War Two along came the Factory Freezer Fleets (henceforth known as FFF’s) from England, France, Spain, Portugal, Soviet Union, Germany, Cuba, and parts of Asia to scoop up whatever was in the ocean. The first factory freezer to be launched was in 1954 called the Fairtry from Scotland. Factory Freezers are massive ships that are similar in design to distant water whaling ships. They have massive nets set from the stern which dragged up anything along the ocean floor, they were equipped with the technology to process and freeze what ever was caught. They were able to stay out in almost any weather 24 hours a day for months at a time without having to unload in port. The traditional distant water schooner and dory fishery that was the norm off the coast of Nfld/Lab and QC had to go ashore to unload, to avoid nasty weather and to sleep, ultimately catching less fish throughout the course of the fishing season and not being able to compete with international corporations.


The Fairtry (google images)

There are ten different stocks of cod fish off the east coast, all of these stocks were severely over fished from the 1950’s to the 1970’s. This time period was when the FFF’s were introduced to Canada, when the government heavily subsidized bigger boats and technology for the domestic industry and when finally in 1977 the Canadian government told the FFF’s to push back 200 nautical miles from our coast. The FFF’s fished in more distant waters however as the cod fish is a migratory species, they could be found in those far off waters at one time of the year and then make their way closer inshore at other times of the year so those FFF’s could still capture cod fish on the move. If you look at the life cycle of a cod fish you begin to see how hard their survival is and how unlikely it is for these fish to survive until maturation. Basically a female cod lays millions of eggs at a time; these eggs then float around until they begin to develop. The tom cod’s as they are called at a young stage then have to migrate around finding food and trying not to get caught by predators, nets, die from too cold or too warm conditions. It takes a few years before they fully reach maturation. Basically very few of the millions of eggs laid actually reach adulthood and fewer still reach full maturation. A cod fish can live to be 25 years old. “Scientists believe that a good reserve of older, more fertile fish are essential to kick-start recruitment when conditions are better again. Unfortunately, current fishing practices which naturally tend to fish down the age structure, removing older fish, mean that the stock loses the big spawners and so recovers more slowly after a period of poor conditions” (www.ices.dk).


Gadus Morua/Cod Fish (google images)

The Canadian calamity also demonstrates that we now have the technological capability to find and annihilate every commercial fish stock, in any ocean and sea, and do irreparable damage to entire ecosystems in the process. Newfoundland and the Northern Cod fishery might still be thriving today if Canada had taken a precautionary approach to the development of its Atlantic fisheries back in the late '70s, instead of the permissive approach which doomed the fishery to collapse. (greenpeace.org)

The purpose of this list is to give you an idea of how the cod moratorium happened through technology, but it was not technology alone that destroyed the fish stocks on the Atlantic coast. Politics played a central role; politics of course tried to sweep under the rug, force progress and cover up the disastrous consequences by trying to defy nature and ignoring the fishermen and the scientists. Scientist they hired to study and report on the condition of the fishery. Through my research I discovered an article about the history of government fisheries management since the 1920’s which painted a picture of disorganization, lack of focus and general mismanagement. I don’t intend to completely blame the government because that would be too easy but from the extensive amount of research I’ve done taken from various sources its hard not to place them in a dark light.

In my next post I will discuss all of the issues surrounding the collapse of the Atlantic groundfish stocks in terms of politics, environment, etc. I will also attempt to paint a picture of the effects this had on not only the atlantic region’s economy but also of Canada. Any information/opinion/feelings…you may have on this would be very welcome and appreciated. You can comment on this blog or email me at chelsieev@gmail.com. Thanks for reading!

Harrington Harbour: family, rainbows, and sea treasures

Rainbow over Harrington Harrington Harbour, my hometown; I lived there till I was six, and visited at least once a year until I was 17. Between 2002 and 2010 I did not visit my home; I always felt that something was missing from my life. I love La Tabatiere because my Dad is there and I did spend a lot of time there when I was younger but Harrington is and will always be my home. Okay I am going to be corny; “home is where the heart is;” my heart has been marooned on this island for 25 years. Anyway onwards I go, I think this is the hardest part for me to write because I feel like I should put so much in to it but whatever I write whatever words I use, won’t be enough but I am going to try my best. I arrived in Harrington via fishing boat on Wednesday June 9th; it was great to come into the harbour this way. I used to always fly in on a helicopter which is awesome too because you fly over the island from the back and get to see the whole village laid out beneath you. Anyway you choose to get to the island will be gorgeous. I once watched a documentary about the making of the film “La Grande Seduction” which was filmed in Harrington. They were showing the actors being flown onto the island and when they came over the island and saw the village one of the main characters turned to the camera with his mouth wide open and his eyes as big as saucers, it was the best look he could have made. I always scrunch up my eyes and hands and in my head go eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!! Harrington Harbour There were 6 boarders staying at my Grandma’s B&B. One of the boarders was working as a game warden with my Uncle Wilson and the other 5 were working at the various Bird Sanctuaries in the area taking a census of the bird population. Environment Canada has been conducting the census every five years since 1925. It is the oldest survey of its kind in Canada and possibly North America. James Audubon is most notable for his paintings of birds around the United States but he also visited the Canadian east coast and documented the birds there. A painter from France followed Audubon’s journey and stayed with my Grandma in Harrington to paint birds on the island. He sent her four or five watercolor paintings of birds and images of the island. Unfortunately she couldn’t remember his name so that is all the information I have. Puffin (google images) My first day in Harrington I saw my cousin Sarah who is now 13 years old but was probably only 7 the last time I’d seen her; she is now taller than I am. I also ran into my Aunt Kitty-Sue who at first glance thought I was a tourist; her daughter Cally is 8 years old, I hadn’t seen her since she was a tiny baby, but I get Christmas cards every year with her picture so I knew what she looked like. She was playing with her friend fishing for tad poles in the pond just like my brother and I used to do when we were kids. I met my cousin Jake for the first time, he is six years old. I had an excellent lobster and crab dinner at my Grandma’s house and then I went over to my Uncle Wilson’s to watch the hockey game. It was nice to visit my Aunt and Uncle in their house instead of at a restaurant or hotel room. On Thursday I was supposed to walk up to Margaret de la Rocque’s cave with my Grandma and Aunt Christine but in the morning I went for a rather long and interesting walk around the back of the island. I found Sheep’s Cove where my mom, my brother and I used to go swimming and have picnics. My walk took approximately 3 hours and involved climbing up and down steep hills covered in moss; trying to navigate around deep gulches, negotiating a way down to the shore and figuring out which finger of rock would take me back to town. By finger of rock I mean a stretch of land that comes out from the top of the island down to the coast. Many of them are surrounded by gulches that you can’t cross. I ended up climbing all the way up one finger only to realize that I wasn’t able to get across so I had to climb all the way back down to the shore and pick a different route. This new route had me hopping back and forth across small gulches to try and find the best path. It was fun but very windy and a little strenuous after awhile so it was nice to finally get back into town. My eardrums were hurting a bit from the wind and when I got back to my Grandma’s I did not feel like climbing up to Margaret’s cave. Instead I dove into my Grandma’s collection of books written about the coast and the St Lawrence Gulf. I took a ton of notes and felt like I was back in University. I spent Friday morning doing much the same over a breakfast of homemade bread and bakeapple jam. In the afternoon I walked around town taking photos of everything; rocks, birds, boats, and the water. I collected some sea glass and shells. Wharf in Harrington Stageheads My Grandma invited over the entire Evans family for supper that night. It was an amazing supper, almost everyone was there which of course led to a lot of storytelling, a lot of which involved one of my uncle’s youthful debaucheries; I won’t relay those stories online ;) Afterwards I went to the bar; my parents used to own the bar and restaurant before we moved. I ran into an old friend, who I’ve known my entire life. It was amazing to catch up with her; she’s the mother of a 4 year old boy and is also one of the funniest people I know. When you don’t see people for a long time you usually remember them the way you last saw them, so when you do see that person again sometimes it can be hard to reconnect since you realize so much as changed for both of you. But in the end we had a lot to talk about, that’s how you know that person is a good life-long friend. I used to have many friends in Harrington and La Tabatiere but most of them live elsewhere now. When I woke up on Saturday morning it was pouring rain, which was appropriate because I felt pretty gloomy about having to leave; my visit was too short. I was however disappointed that my last day was going to be an ugly day, but then all of a sudden the sun came out in full force. My Uncle Miles, Aunt Helen, Cousin Jake and Cally, my Grandma, and I went to my Grandma’s summer camp for lunch. We went on my Uncles speed boat. I had wanted to go there but didn’t think there would be time for it. The summer camp is halfway between Harrington and Chevery; you can still see Harrington in the distance from the beach. We used to go there as kids and sleep over for a day or two and we used to have Canada’s Day celebrations out there with the whole town. Grandma, Cally and Jake We walked around looking for beach treasures such as seaglass, shells, pretty rocks, driftwood, and the much coveted sand dollars and china hats; there wasn’t anybody else on the beach. I had a whole bunch of treasures in my suitcase, everything but one sand dollar made it home safely, then another sand dollar got eaten by Bells, the dog, and another fell on the ground and smashed, it was really sad but I’ll go back and find some more. Cally and Jake abandoned boat Uncle Miles One time when I was a baby, still in diapers, my Grandma, my mom, and I went out to the camp for the day but a huge storm struck up so we got stranded at the camp for three days. They had to bathe me in a fish tub and rip up sheets for diapers. Another time my Grandma had someone take her out to the camp but she forgot to tell anyone where she went and to arrange for a ride home. She had to wait for three days until someone showed up. I’m not sure what she ate for three days out there, but I imagine she made do with whatever she had. All in all though it’s pretty scary to think of someone stranded out there by themselves, for many reasons; when we got to the camp we saw that a bear had mauled the side of the cabin and made a hole in the wall. My Grandma’s cabin was one of the only ones with a toilet, back in the day, so when lots of people were at the beach people would always come over to use it. It was this little portable toilet that you had to take out and empty every so often. At my Dad’s winter cabin we used to just have to go out back and squat or sit on a bucket. No one has running water or any type of sewage system at their cabins, they are too remote. They use generators for lights but for heat and to cook everyone has a wood stove. When I was young we used to go to the cabin in the winter, it would be so cold on the ski-doo and when you got to the cabin you’d have to wait forever for the place to warm up enough to take your winter clothes off. I have bad circulation in my hands and feet so this was always particularly awful for me, I’d have like 8 pairs of socks and 4 pairs of mitts on. I remember having to wear super hideous sunglasses too because going snow blind (photokeratitis) is not uncommon. Snow blindness is caused by UV light being reflected off the snow and essentially burns your corneas; it is not permanent but is said to be quite painful, like a sunburn on your eyeballs. It’s kind of like what can happen if you stare at the welding light. According to Wikipedia if you lose or damage your sunglasses you can cut slits in a dark fabric or tape and you can blacken the skin under your eyes. The Inuit carved snow goggles from caribou antlers. Protect your eyes and skin from UV rays. After lunch Grandma and I decided to finally go up to Margaret’s cave with my cousin Sarah. I had forgotten that the cave had collapsed and you couldn’t really go inside anymore. Grandma and Sarah Afterwards we went to visit my Grandma Mill at the home; she is 93 years old and is absolutely amazing. Grandma Mill is my Grandma’s mother; her husband was the lighthouse keeper out on Shag Island. There isn’t a lighthouse there anymore and no one lives on that island. It is one of the islands that surround Harrington along with Gull Cliff Island, Fox Island and Little Fox Island. Abandoned houses on Gull Cliff Island We went to the restaurant for dinner and I had to start saying my goodbyes to everyone. The boat was a few hours late getting in but we went over to the wharf a bit early which was great because I got to see my Aunt Aida and Uncle Larry. There was a man and his wife there who had come in by sailboat. They were tied up for the night but were planning on departing the following day to make their way up to and through the Northwest Passage to Vancouver. I’ve met a few people who sail up the coast but they were the first people I’d encountered who planned to go through the Northwest Passage. The Northwest Passage is the sea route through the Arctic Ocean, which is generally clogged with ice making it relatively impassable but due to global warming the ice is melting making it easier to get through. Thanks to pollution we just may have a new shipping route for trade. Around 10:15 the Nordik arrived, it left around midnight. I stayed up talking to a woman who used to know me when I was about 4 years old. As it turned out she stayed at the same hostel as me in Sept Iles and was on the boat going upstream with me; we had actually sat on the deck with some people together. She apologized profusely for not recognizing me, because people on the coast generally never forget a face. Everywhere I went in Harrington people recognized me and remembered my name, I recognized everyone but I have a hard time with names. It was nice to be remembered, it was great to talk with everyone, you can’t walk anywhere without stopping to have a chat with someone because everyone knows everyone. It’s so different than small towns out here like Lennoxville, because you know some people but certainly not everyone, and in Montreal you are surprised when you run into someone you know. Again the boat was off schedule so I only had about 45 minutes in Kegaska on the way back, I was hoping to actually make it into town this time but no luck. Next time I come to the coast I am going to arrange a ride in every town so that I can have a proper tour. Either that or I am bringing my bike. I also plan on going all the way to Blanc Sablon, and getting a ride from Blanc-Sablon to Old Fort Bay, St Pauls River, Bradore and Middle Bay, and from there I will commandeer a boat to go to St Augustine and Pakua Shipi and La Tabatiere. I will obviously need a lot more time for that voyage. This time though it was about the enjoyment of seeing my family and my home again. I just want to quote Jack Kerouac for a second because I felt like this before I went to Harrington. “I turn my thoughts to Frisco and I see it like a movie, what'll be there when I get back” (Desolation Angels, P.25). Before arriving in Harrington I saw everything as a discombobulated slide show of all the images, the snapshots that I either possessed physically or in memory. I see most of the in black and white except the sparkly blue ocean, that image is burned permanently to the back of my eyelids. I always see the people, my family mostly, as I saw them at home last, even if I’ve seen them since. All of the images were stuck in the past. Now I have recent memories and images of home but I still see the sea juxtaposed on top of everything else, when I close my eyes it’s just that beautiful blue twinkle. The difference between before I left and now having been back for a few weeks is that instead of a discombobulated slide show I see a choppy, artsy movie reel complete with static between the scenes. The main theme is the surf. The waves hitting the rocks over and over and me, I’m just standing there watching the intensity of beauty, nature, the fierce winds, waves, and the serenity of it all. Even if there is no one there to witness it, it will always go on. I guess it is not a tragedy if no one gets to see the waves crash against the rocks in the same place as thousands of people for hundreds of years has seen it. But I feel that this should never become a discombobulated snapshot of a memory mentioned as a footnote in some random book about the interesting places in our country or on some internet site about Canada’s ghost towns; dehumanized, unrecognizable.

Picturesque, fantastic; just a little more visual information.

I was working at Stanstead College summer language camp for 3 weeks which is the reason I haven't posted anything new. Now I am back in mtl feeling like a human again so I will get on to sharing my experience in Harrington; but that won't be today. Today I thought I'd post some photo's for your viewing pleasure.


Cove in La Tabatiere


Catholic Church La Tabatiere


Wood Cabin


Bridge Mutton Bay


Love this house, Mutton Bay


Passenger Boat


La Romaine

Okay so that's all for today, I will write about Harrington Harbour this week so keep checking :)

4-wheelers, Icebergs, and Talkin about the Weather in La Tabatiere

The weather wasn’t great except for Sunday and Tuesday, otherwise it was cold and rainy. I spent most of the day Friday (the day I arrived) recuperating. On Saturday we were supposed to go to Little Passage which is where my Dad and Brenda’s summer cabin is but it was far too windy to go by outboard. At the cabin in the summer when the tide is high the water is warm so you can jump off the rocks and swim with the jellyfish. Northern jellyfish don’t sting, they just float in and out with the tide I’m not really sure what they do exactly but regardless they are harmless to humans. There is also a spot where you can find gray clay which is mostly just fun to play with. Instead of going out there we drove into the mountains towards the hydro dam. My Dad’s winter cabin is out that way; you can drive to the lake and then take a row boat across. The winter cabin is great, you can literally drop a bucket off the bridge into the stream and drink straight out of the bucket, it’s the best tasting water I’ve ever had.




Hydro Dam


We saw a couple of men take a regular canoe with a motor on the back, load it up with buckets and things to go out to Lake Long to fish for trout. It was hilarious because the canoe was so tippy and here are three grown men crossing a lake, the top of the boat must have been an inch out of the water, it was a wonder they didn’t capsize.



My Dad lives a bit outside of Tabatiere in a very hilly area so you need a vehicle to get around. Unfortunately I don’t drive cars, trucks or jeeps but lucky me, my Dad had a four wheeler, and since the roads are not busy and there are no cops there I was able to drive around on that. On Saturday I went to Mutton Bay which is about 15km from Tabatiere. The drive is through the mountains so it is very turny and hilly often at the same time, but of course the scenery is breathtaking. The next day Sunday was absolutely beautiful, blue skies and sunshine so I took the ATV back to Mutton Bay stopping often along the way and then out past the beach in Tabatiere and up a new road which is being built. I basically drove around the town for 3 hours stopping often. Here are the fruits of my labors:


La Tabatiere Marina

Cove in Mutton Bay

On the road between Mutton Bay and La Tabatiere

Having spent some time here I feel more complete than ever. I will always carry this place with me no matter where I go, no matter what I’m doing, and no matter how long it’s been since I last visited. My heart has been so big since I first got off the boat and stood on the rocks watching the surf in Kegaska. When I was driving around on the 4 wheeler taking pictures I kept saying things like “Holy fuck” and “oh my” because the scenery took my breath away; I had no one to express my sentiments to but I also had no one to see me talking to myself to think that I was a crazy tourist. I felt incredibly alone and also incredibly free. Sometimes in Montreal I just want to take a walk and go sit somewhere by myself but it is so hard to find a place that is not only empty but also serene and inspiring unless you find under the bridge near the train tracks serene and inspiring. In Tabatiere I was out on open road and didn’t see another vehicle around for ages. I used to feel that I was always being watched wherever I went because it’s such a small town, everyone knows you; this is a good thing for several reasons but can also be quite pesky when you’re a teenager trying to be sneaky. However, you can easily find a place where not even google earth could track you down. In case you haven’t figured it out yet I like to be alone so after years of living in Montreal it was a welcome change, ultimately relaxing.


Pointe Aux Neiges

BLUE!!!!!

On Tuesday (my last day in La Tabatiere); it was a gorgeous day, I decided to try and find the old Robertson seal foundry. There didn’t appear to be anything left but as it turns out I went out to the wrong point. I should have gone to Spar Point but instead I went to what I think is Robertson Point. The way there is not marked even though it is listed as a tourist attraction, they should really get on that. I did see a dead animal skeleton which scared the crap out of me and then made me very sad so maybe that’s the reason for all the lamenting I did out on the point. According to my Dad the only thing that remains of the most important seal foundry on the LNS is an old boiling pot. The fact that I couldn’t even find the remains made me think about how this once vibrant industry has almost completely disappeared from the world except in memory. Many people have left the LNS but are not gone forever; they will always go back as long as they can still call this place home. I hate to think of the day when the LNS is just a memory, and maybe I won’t live to see it but I am alive now to see the population decline and the median age steadily increase so it is not a matter of “if” but of “when” but also, on who’s terms? How will we get home when there is no plane or passenger boat to service the villages, and no roof to house us while we visit friends and family? I haven’t been many places, but of all the places I have been and heard about, nothing compares to these remote coastal villages (including those in Nfld/Lab). My brother once told me that he could go anywhere in the world on vacation but when he gets time off the only place he wants to go is home. I think that sentiment is echoed through most people who come from the coast.











On Wednesday morning I listened to my Dad and a few other men discuss the weather and realized that I had been listening to people talk about the weather every day, multiple times a day since I arrived. I also realized that it wasn’t just idle talk. Everyone wants to find out if someone else knows something they don’t know about the forecast. So much here depends on the weather, it can be very unpredictable so you often have to wait and see. People talk about islander life or coastal life moving a lot slower than the lives of those in the cities, this is because often you just have to wait it out, there’s nothing to be done about it. Here in Montreal if we have a huge snowstorm employers will expect you to jump through hoops to get to work on time even if schools are shut down; honestly I’ve gotten in trouble for being 15 minutes late; on the LNS if there’s a storm you stay home and watch the skies.





I got a ride on a fishing boat from La Tabatiere to Harrington Harbour on Wednesday morning. It was overcast and cold but I hoped that it would not rain so that I would be able to sit out on deck for the entire 3 hour trip. The sea was pretty calm and it only sprinkled for a little while. While it rained I sat in the cabin however after about a half hour I started to feel pretty sick so I went back out on deck for the remainder of the journey. I had a lot of trouble standing up straight on the boat I had to grab on from one support to another to make my way around. On this 3 hour trip I believe that I may have found the cure for seasickness or motion sickness as a whole. I sat down in the fresh air with my ipod blasting death metal and punk music into my head. I believe the fast and hard music offset the continuous lolling of the boat and motion of the waves. Try it next time you get motion sicknss or the spins. On the 3 hour boat ride I got to see several flocks of birds, and luckily a herd of seals floating in the water. Unfortunately the seals were bobbing up and down in the water too much so I wasn’t able to get a good shot of them. I did not see any whales on the boat but I did get to see a whale circling the cove off of Pointe aux Neiges near my Dad’s. I also saw an iceberg off in the distance which one of the fishermen estimated was about 30 feet tall above the water which would mean that it was 210 feet under the surface. We passed by another iceberg that was much smaller but still quite beautiful. Seeing icebergs this late in the season is not uncommon but it was a testament to how cold it still was on the water. We saw a fog up ahead at one point and hoped that the wind wouldn’t shift so we could pass by it without the fog encasing the boat. As it was already a cold day it would have become even colder if the fog had come over us since it generally feels like you’re moving through ice. I was pretty frozen by this point despite wearing a shirt, sweater, my “winter” jacket and my Dad’s giant rain coat. I wish I had had some mitts and mukluks.


Leaving La Tabatiere

My camera at its zoom limit. 30 feet above, 210 feet below

This essentially wraps up my stay in La Tabatiere though I made many more observations, had many more thoughts and received a lot more information all of which will be shared with you throughout the lifetime of this blog. Next up, Harrington Harbour, my home town, more photos, more observations, reminiscing and stories.


Coming into Harrington Harbour