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.