Adventures in Iceberg Alley

Hillgrade:

Okay, so we didn't exactly have an adventure, at least not by dictionary standards, but I thought it was a snappy title.

What does anyone do when they get close to Twillingate? They go see icebergs, that's that. There are so many bergs here now that locals can't remember when they had more at the same time. And that brings the tourists. They tell me that the TCH up to Twillingate the Sunday before last was bumper to bumper.

So we trailed up to Durrell (which is the best place to see the ice) last week, and again this week. Icebergs are living, breathing things, ever changing, every creaking and groaning, rolling and splitting.

Here are some pictures showing the view last week (on the left) and this week (on the right). I didn't exactly line up the lens this week, but you'll forgive me. My intentions were good.

Views of Durrell bergs on July 16 (left) and July 21 (right)

And two more, zoomed in:

The two pics below show a berg which disintegrated before our eyes. Poof! I managed to capture the final cloud of ice. 

Berg before it exploded

What's left of the berg except some splash

Pic below shows a berg-y bit shaped like a whale, or a dolphin, depending on your preference.

Tonight we're going into Twillingate to see the arrival of Captain Bob Bartlett's ship The Bowdoin, as part of Celebrating Bartlett 2009 , a province-wide celebration of 100 years since Bartlett made his first Arctic expedition. I have to say I feel a special kinship, having grown up in Brigus, Bartlett's birthplace, and knowing his family personally. 

So, expect another blog post tomorrow, or as soon as I can get myself organized. It's cold here, so it's a good time for doing stuff like blogging and reading and taking short, very short, walks. Frost predicted for tonight. Good thing I brought my hat and gloves. Odd thing is that I don't resent the weather here, but if it were to be this cold in Ottawa, I'd be furious. (At whom I have no idea!)

On the Rock Again

Hillgrade:

So. Here we are. Back in Newfoundland. Back in Hillgrade. A little (okay, a lot) late getting here this year due to having stuff that just wouldn't go away at home (the other home). But we made it. Drove over 2300 miles in three days, had an overnight boat trip thrown in for good measure, and we finally put our key in the door here on Wednesday afternoon, July 15th.

Aunt Edith's 90th birthday party

Three days later, we were off again, this time to Corner Brook for the celebration of my Aunt Edith's 90th birthday on Sunday. It was difficult deciding whether to beg off due to extreme fatigue (wouldn't have been a word of a lie) or to just suck it up and go, add another 700 km to the total. I called my Aunt Mary where we would be staying and she was looking forward to us coming. I just didn't have the heart to tell her we were too tired to drive all the way out there and back... so we went. I did the driving this time, giving poor John a much needed break.

On the way out, we came upon a car that had just hit a moose. The poor thing was lying at the side of the highway as though he had just lain down for a nap. His legs were in strange positions and I hope the RCMP officer who was at the scene had already put him out of his misery if he hadn't been killed outright. The people in the car were all fine. Milling about and moaning about their fender which was dragging on the ground.

I wish Newfoundland would do what New Brunswick has and erect fences along the highway to keep moose and other large animals from crossing. It would cost some money but lives (human, even) would be saved. That is usually enough to get people moving since saving lives of moose is not on anyone's agenda here. The poor animals are cursed left and right, but you don't hear anyone complaining when they get a bit of moose for their freezer.

As I was saying to John the other day, I don't remember wildlife playing such a large part in Newfoundland life when I was growing up. Moose were there, for sure, but not in the current numbers. [Note: Four moose were introduced into Newfoundland from New Brunswick in 1904. By 1930 the numbers had increased enough to allow a hunting season to happen.] 

I also don't remember any issues about bears. People go camping here now and are just as likely to come upon a bear as see a trout jump in the stream. Come to think of it, probably more likely, since the streams are getting fished out. And squirrels. Never had them growing up as well. Ditto for coyotes. I mean really. Coyotes are desert creatures, aren't they? Or have I just seen too many Wile E Coyote cartoons?

My aunt Edith had a lovely birthday party. Didn't get a chance to take any pictures except one of her. I used the flash which I think startled her and I thought she was going to say something to me about blinding an old lady. She didn't but it threw me enough that I put the camera down and forgot about it until it was too late and everyone had gone home.

Nice to see so many cousins and relatives of all descriptions. My son should come to Nfld with me sometime. He thinks his family consists of just me and him. (Gosh, can you tell I've been talking like a Newfoundlander for a week!) Ha.

Coast of Bays passage

Hillgrade:

We just got back from a few days on the south coast -- should that be capitalized? -- and it was worth every minute of the l-o-o-o-n-g drive.

Left here on Friday morning around 9:30. Arrived at Southern Port Hotel in Harbour Breton sometime about 2pm, I think. John immediately had his nap. I went off exploring and to buy a hair brush after discovering I'd not packed mine.

What a gorgeous place. I had heard the south coast was beautiful, but I wasn't prepared for it to be THIS beautiful. It helped that the sky had not a cloud and the temps were in the high 20s. I started oohing and aahing right at the outset and never stopped until we got back on the highway yesterday afternoon to come home. And even from the road there were vistas that took my breath away.

As I said, we started out in Harbour Breton. Took a million snaps there. Went to a play in the evening (it was the last night; talk about lucky) at the Elliott Premises. It was grand fun and a bit of a challenge to tune our ear to the local accent. The actors were all young people and it was wonderful to see them involved in a venture like this. The stage had its limitations but they did a wonderful job and overcame them all. We had lots of laughs and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Next day it was foggy, which is apparently the norm in Hr. Breton, so they say. However, we went off to Deadman's Cove and would have walked the trail (2.5 hrs round trip) but my knee was giving me a lot of trouble so thought we'd better not risk it. We would have taken the trail up Gun Hill, too, if it hadn't been for my darn knee. Instead we took more snaps.

Hermitage - not what I expected. Thought it would be bigger, and (I hate to say it) prettier. Getting hungry. Went on to Sandyville. Saw a place that advertised convenience. Door was locked. Another place advertising convenience was also dark as a dungeon. On to Pass Island but it was very foggy and no stores loomed up there at all. So back to Hermitage and noticed that all the places in that town were closed too. Gas bar, included. Asked a lady near the Anglican church where we could buy groceries and she said Crewe's. So off we went and found it closed. Hmm. Went up to the door where a man was waiting and with sign language (his) and silly gestures (mine) found out the place didn't open until 1pm. Ah. The owners have to go for their dinner. Silly me.

We waited a bit and a lot of cars started arriving. Had to line up to get into the store which had a front door right out of the 1850's. Wanted to buy one of those little cans of potato salad we used to get years ago. This store looked like it ought to have it. But no. Considered buying a can of Vienna sausage just for old time's sake. Thought of the Maple Leaf listeriosis thing going on. Instead bought granola bars, fruit cups and cheese. Ate in the car.

The ferry to Galtois (pronounced Galtis) and McCallum wasn't at the dock when we were in Hermitage. If it had been, I would have been sorely tempted to make the trip. We were told it costs only $1 if you're over 65 and $1.50 if you're not. However, we didn't want to wait for it and moved on. Next time. (Update: See Note at bottom)

As we were leaving Hermitage, we noticed a sign to Furbey's Cove. Not on the map. Let's see what's out there. We were not disappointed. Furbey's Cove is the original name of a village from which the occupants were resettled back in the 60's. And it is now being re-settled by the daughters and sons of those who had been forced to leave. We spoke to a man who was originally from Galtois who filled us in on all the comings and goings. He said his missus had gone berry picking on the highway and he had some time on his hands. 

Headed out for Pool's Cove. Highway pavement was red all the way. Sign of something special at the other end? 

For sure. The place is extraordinarily beautiful. Spent a lot of time there, walking the streets with the camera. The fog lifted the minute we entered the town and stayed gone the whole time.

Fog rejoined us as we headed for Belleoram and lifted a little when we got there. Another georgeous little town. First things first and found a washroom at a little restaurant. Told the fellow we'd be back for supper. Turned out that the menu had only meat, so I hope he didn't wait up for us.

The rest of that little section along the Fortune Bay North shore -- St. Jacques, English Harbour West, Mose Ambrose, Boxey, Wreck Cove and Coomb's Cove (photo at left) -- was rather difficult to appreciate, it was that foggy. We had heard there were two B&B's at Coomb's cove but couldn't find either. Good thing we had already reserved a spot at St. Alban's for the night or we might have been sleeping with the fishes.

The drive from the north shore of Fortune Bay to the top of Bay d'Espoir is long when you're tired and hungry. We arrived at St. Albans Inn (may or may not still exist - 2023) just after their dining room had closed and they offered to make us a bowl of soup and a sandwich. John and I had both been jonesing for pizza all afternoon and instead headed off to the only take-out in town, mouths watering for veggie pizza. Turned out they had only pepperoni, and since it comes pre-made, it would have been hard to take the pepperoni off of it. Sigh. So we found another grocery store and bought some peanut butter, sandwich spread (I did finally get something I haven't eaten since I was a kid), bread and fig newtons. Back to the hotel for supper on the bed, and Olympics on the TV.

Sunday, up and out reasonably early. Off to see anything we'd missed the previous two days. So we roamed about the Bay d'Espoir area. Tried to get up to the hydroelectric installation but were stymied at every turn. Two long off-road expeditions (very narrow; very bumpy) were enough for us (and the car) and we gave up. Maybe next time we can pre-arrange a tour of the place, if they still do that in these days of terrorism and all.

We ate lunch at a very nice park down by the water in Milltown. Guess what we ate? If you didn't guess peanut butter and jam sandwiches, fruit cup and wet cheese (it had fallen into the watery ice in the cooler), you're not thinking hard enough.

I had to go pee in the woods and set off to find a secluded spot. Nearly did myself in by straddling an ant hill, but noticed the buggers crawling over my shoes just at the last minute. Nearly killed myself coming out of there. Had to grab on to alder branches to keep from tumbling out onto the path. I walked back via a very empty beach, and found lots of beach glass - blue included. Turned out that John had gotten worried when I didn't return and had set out to find me. Not sure how we missed each other since I was in full view on the beach and he was walking along the road just by it.

There was a heritage home as part of the park. It had been built there originally, moved in 1900-something to another location, and then moved back to its original site in the last few years. There was a large sign and guess who the movers were. You got it: the same crew who lifted our house - Robert Coates from Glenwood (except they forgot the 'e' in Coates on the sign).

And that was about the end of our travels. We hit the road (Route 360) to head home. 45 km from the Trans Canada Highway, we stopped to pick blueberries. There had been a forest fire there some years ago and the area had grown over with lots of blueberries, as is often the case. John is not a happy picker so he napped in the car while I picked to my heart's delight. The temperature was about 30 degrees so I wasn't at it long. There are some things that even I can't do in heat like that. But I did get enough for a dessert that I'm making for tonight when Jo and Simon come over.

The whole time I was down on the south coast, I had to keep pinching myself. If someone had picked me up and put me down in China, I couldn't have been any more thrilled. I grew up in Newfoundland and had never been south of Grand Falls. Ever. Unless you count Buchans. There was just no road at that time to the south coast. It was by boat or not at all. So just twisting my mind around the fact that I had been there was mind-bending in itself. To find that it was so heart-breakingly beautiful was icing on the cake.

I actually started taking notes for poems during this trip and I haven't done that in a few months. I should go there more often.

Note: Update April 2023: The adult fare for ferry from Hermitage to Galtois is now $2. From Galtois to McCallum: $6.25. From McCallum back to Hermitage: $6.25. Even if you stay in Galtois or McCallum in between trips. All around the circle. Pretty cheap little jaunt. You leave your car in Hermitage so no gas costs. 

Okay. So where were we?

Hillgrade:

It's taken me over a month to get back to business. I just had to. Couldn't take any more of the nagging.

And I couldn't have picked a better time to write. I spilled my tea into my keyboard this morning and now I have no right arrow key. Who knew I used that darn key so much! And what's more, John tells me that you can no longer just take off a key-cap and clean the contact. Now you have to take the back off the keyboard (unplugging it first, natch) and clean the inside of the business. Maybe later.

So. Where were we? Oh yes, working on the house. Let's see. When we last chatted, the foundation and the pony wall had been finished and the house lifters had departed. The rest was going to be up to us. Many hours and dollars later, we are closing in on completing the goals we set for ourselves this summer. Several milestones have been achieved and celebrated.

Crawlspace windows. Check. Nothing fancy, but they work and do the job they were installed to do - let light in and keep rain out.

Crawlspace door. Check. Double check, since John actually built two doors. An inner door which is thick (hollow) and sturdy; an outer door which is 1/2 inch plywood to prevent the inner door from being exposed to the wind. The inner door has a padlock system. The outer door has just a push latch for now.

Crawlspace window frames. Check. And nice frames they are, with drip caps and properly slanting windowsills.

Painting the pony wall. Check. We decided on red. Not sure why now except that we knew we didn't want the battleship grey that everyone else here uses on their foundations. This colour choice led us into a discussion of what colour we should eventually paint the house. We are leaning towards Dory Buff (a heritage colour) with red doors, drip caps and bridge surfaces, and white for the window frames and bridge railings. We'll see.

Landscaping. Semi-check. We've had five loads of shale dumped around the place, and shovelled and wheelbarrowed most of it ourselves. A neighbour found out we were doing this manually and came racing over to say that he has a tractor and would be happy to push the stuff around for us. Didn't have to ask us twice.
One of our challenges is that the dirt that was dug up from around the house when the foundation was poured is rather puggy. We did not want it put back around the house since it holds water so well and we are trying to solve wetness problems, not re-create them. So we piled that stuff up away from the house and replaced it with the shale. We have since re-distributed the puggy stuff (some of it was actually very good soil) over the top of the shale in order to grow whatever it is we'll grow. One more pile remains to be raked. Not urgent.

One of the days when we were digging & lugging dirt, we got to thinking that a patch of stinging nettles and old damson trees at the right side of our backyard (as viewed from the road) would make a great car park. But the problem was that our fence was inside that patch. Time to make inquiries. Turned out that the land is ours. We still don't know why the fence was where it was, and there was some talk in the cove about who owned the damsen trees that had gone to ruin among the nettles. It was finally decided that the land belongs to the house we're in so it's ours and was included in the sale. This was confirmed by the original owner once we got in touch with him. So. We now have a place off-street to part the car and the trailer. Check out the pile of shale that is about to bury the nettles (right-hand picture above). We had a second one after that. And now we have almost too much, but I guess it will settle.
Of course everything is still pretty rough. I've been keeping aside large rocks as we came across them. They'll come in handy for building a rock garden, or steps up the side of our hill in the back yard, or as a path to my vegetable garden. No shortage of them, that's for sure. And to think we have to pay big bucks for rocks like this in Ottawa. Would make ya weep.

Bridges. John has built a great bridge on the road side for our back door (picture at left). He even built a little triangular step down for it. From that step, we can go to the road, or to the side garden. The road-side edge of that step will be in line with the fence (when it goes up) and we'll put the gate I (okay, we) built last year right there so that when you step from the road, you'll open the gate right on to this step. Neat, eh?

The side bridge (right) is semi-done, too. It's bigger than the original one, which was rotted pretty badly. We saved the railings though because they were built by the former owner and it would be great to preserve his work. I like the railings a lot. How we'll use them, we still have not decided. In one of the pictures you can see that we've laid a section of railing on the back bridge. This was so that Mr. Dyke could see it when he came to visit last week. More on that later. 

Update 2023: We never did use the original railing after noticing how badly it had rotted in places. In face, that bridge has no railing at all still.


Wood stove. Check. We now have a new wood-stove in the kitchen. I might have mentioned that we had to get rid of the old kitchen wood stove because it was not in good shape and would have needed an overhaul to make it safe. Not sure that it ever could have been restored to its original grandeur. So we purchased a Drolet Legend through Chester Dawe's in Gander. It burns very well and turns the kitchen into a sauna. We will have to put a hole with a fan in the wall to the living room in order to draw the heat into that room. We'll also put a grill in the ceiling in order to let the heat rise into the upper bedrooms.
Since we had to take down the two chimneys, John installed a prefab chimney for the kitchen stove, taking it through the ceiling, through the upstairs room (called the Chimney Room) and through the roof. Enough heat rises around that chimney into the bedroom above that we don't have to install a grill to do the job.

Furnace. While the house was being lifted, the furnace had been dismantled and the pieces stored in the shed. Then we called the furnace man to come and re-install it, adjusting here and there to accommodate the new beams that are now under the house. Since the furnace chimney was a casualty of the lift, we were thinking of installing a prefab on the outside for the furnace. But the furnace man mentioned a power vent. After some research, we opted for this and now we have just a little box on the outer wall near where the furnace is mounted underneath the floor. We have not had to run our furnace yet (thanks to a scorching July and a still not too cool August) but are not anticipating any problems. It should apparently run even quieter than before now that it's fixed and not sitting on a rock.

Repair of outer walls and clapboard. Check. Because much of our lower walls on the north and north-west walls of the house had rotted, we had to tear away a large portion of the clapboard. The underlying matched lumber (tongue-in-groove) had also seen better days and needed attention. This week John spent repairing the board walls and putting on new clapboard as required. He put a new trim board (water table) all around the house, hoping that when he met up with the first piece that it would be lined up. As many problems as he had in getting it on, when he did join up, it was only about 1/2 inch out. Pretty darn good, I'd say. We don't have any pictures yet of the final job because he says, "it's not finished." He still has to address the corner trim.

That about covers it, I think. It's been a long month. With all the digging and wheelbarrowing (especially downhill) I wrecked my left knee. Haven't been able to do much since about the 15th. Luckily, we had lots of help. Boyce Sansome showed up with his shovel to help move dirt. As I mentioned above, Clayton Sansome brought along his tractor. Twice. Transporting it up and down the hill on a flatbed trailer each time. Ivan Sansome and his son Michael who was just here for a visit came over and moved the rest of the dirt from the road-side of the house. Since they were using our shovels, we could only watch. What a great place. What great neighbours. Kevin Butt has been down to help repair the roof when the chimney was installed, to install clapboard and to help with just about every other job that needed doing.

Since my knee didn't allow me to go berry picking, Boyce even brought us down a bag of bakeapples which he picked himself. I tell ya, it doesn't get any better than this. John remarked the other day that we've lived on our street in Ottawa since 1998 and we still know only a few neighbours. Here we know everyone and they know us. And here 'knowing' = 'helping' = 'sharing' = 'genuine caring'. Remind me again of why we're going back to Ottawa? Sometimes I wonder why.

Of course, if John had his way, we'd be staying here. For good. Sometimes, I think I should just let him have his way.

House-lifting pics

Hillgrade: 

I thought you might enjoy seeing a few of the pictures of the men working on the house towards the end. They are taking the rails out from under the house in the first picture.

In case you don't know, the rails (the kind used by trains) are inserted under the house just under the sill, from front to back (or whichever way is most convenient). Jacks are then mounted under the rails and the house is jacked up slowly, inch by inch, from front to back, rail to rail. Very slow painstaking work. Simultaneously, 4x4s (or 6x6s? or old railway ties?) are inserted under the house as cribs and will eventually take the weight of the lift. When this is achieved, the rails and jacks are removed. This video will give you some idea what the jacking process and cribs look like in Newfoundland. Watch video here.

Robert Coates, the boss man, is shown left. What a sweetie. Never grumpy. Never has an off day. The minute he opens his mouth to speak, there's a smile chasing every word. As John says, the mark of a man who loves what he does.

The third picture (above, right) shows just what brute strength is required to lift a house. Every man on the crew was as strong as two ox.

And finally another view under the house. You see the remains of one of the cribs on the right. We don't get to keep that wood. It gets loaded back on their truck for the next move/lift someplace else. I'm told there's a house move today in Twillingate. We might go up and have a look.

Final result was that our house was lifted 22" on the front, and 38" on the back. We no longer have to ski from the front door back to the kitchen. Yay.

You might have been thinking this post is out of sync since the last post reported that we were back in the house with the lift behind us and concrete foundation under us. In truth, this post was made the same day. I should have just done it first so it at least would not look like we were doing a second lift. Ha.

We're in!

Hillgrade:

I have been chastised by a few people for not keeping up to date here. And I'll have to take my lumps because I have been negligent.

We're in the house. Actually living here. Sort of. Here's a picture of what the house looks like now with the foundation finished. In the first picture, the black stuff below the plywood of the knee wall is tar, for waterproofing. In the second picture, the white stuff with elephants on it is a waterproofing membrane. The red stuff is a tape that joins the membrane pieces. And now you know just about all I know about foundations and waterproofing.

When we get to it, the ground level will come up to the red tape. We'll slope the soil away from the house in front (sea side) and the garden showing will also have a slope towards the sea. Just how important this is was brought home to us a few days ago. We had the biggest rain storm anyone in these parts can ever remember. Not to mention the thunder and lightening. We had just gone to bed and I was sure we would all be washed out to sea. In the morning, there was a lake at the back of our house, still forming and draining from run-off from the bog across the road. It's imperative that we find a way to divert this water. Our foundation might be waterproof, but it can't be good to have this much moisture near a building. 

So, what's it like? I have nothing but good to say about this house lifting business. For starters, we have a better view. We can see the ocean from the downstairs windows over the big old rock in the side yard. Previously had to climb up on the rock to do that. The view from the upstairs windows is glorious.

The view I like best though is the one from the kitchen window. Previously we looked up at the road, feeling rather like moles. Now, we can sit at the kitchen table, look directly out at the road and see who's coming and going in good Newfoundland style. Great spot for a cup of tea.

And our floors are level -- well as much as floors in a 130-year-old house can be level. No longer do we almost fall down if we turn suddenly in the kitchen. Balance issues have gone the way of the codfish. People who've come in say the place has lost some of its charm and quirkiness. Perhaps. But I can live with it.

One of the last tasks the house-lifters did was to replace the sills on the back addition of the house. They were rotted through. It was his opinion that if we'd left this job even one more year, we might not have had much to save.

The only downside of it all is that the carpenter ants that lived in the old sills now have to find a new home. They have been roaming around outside like lost souls -- very big lost souls at that. I've never seen ants so big in my life. Some of them are at least an inch long. Hopefully they'll go across the street to the old general store that is slowly rotting from the ground up.

So now the real work begins. We haven't stopped much since we moved back in. The first task was to tidy up the yard a bit. Create a few piles - wood that we'll keep to burn, wood that the neighbour wants to burn, stuff to take to the dump. Then we moved the furnace components out of the shed to under the house in order to make room for the firewood pieces that were already short. We made another pile of wood that we'll have to cut later. It's the biggest pile.

John spent some time levelling off the soil under the house in order to make space to store his supplies and tools. We're using the old concrete forms as platforms for both storage and walking. I gather it was not easy using a pick under the house without room to swing it. And the soil being rocky as it is, is not easy to shovel. 

I learned to make concrete the other day. I could probably make it again myself any old time now that I know what consistency it has to have. The only hitch is finding a way to lift the bags of cement. Those things are heavy. We used some of the sand the contractors left around with a few bags of Portland cement. From this we made footings for the back bridge. We bought some Readi-mix to make the posts. And they look very good, if I do say so myself.

So now, we have to fill in the trench. We could just push back the stuff that they took out of the trench and get a load or two of fill to put on top of it to get the grade we want. But the problem is that soil is rather 'poggy' (word used around here to describe soil that holds water like a sponge) and we don't want to give the run-off a place to live. So we've been thinking of having a few loads of a mixture of sand and shale dropped off. Problem is, where to put it. If we don't move the existing mounds, there's nowhere to put the new stuff. We don't really want to move the existing mounds to another location and then use it later as a top-soil. But we might have to.

I've been devoting most of my back-breaking labour to getting rid of the Mile-A-Minute that was growing along the road-side of the house. I really don't want it there. It takes up all the room on that side of the house and blocks light from the living room window. I've been told that even leaving one little bit of root in the soil will result in two new plants. I expect I'm defeating my own purpose by trying to dig it out, because I'm probably not getting all the little root bits. In fact, I'm sure I'm not. Sigh. I don't want to resort to poison, mainly because I tried that last year and the darn thing laughed at me. It shed the parts of the plant that the poison had touched and the rest of it flourished like never before.

We have not got our new wood stove yet. The one we want is difficult to get. The company sells stoves through at least two retailers - Home Hardware (there is one a few kilometers away) and Rona (several hundred km away). And it appears the stove we want is made for Rona only. However the manufacturer's site lists Home Hardware as their distributer in these parts so the fellow who runs HH is going to call them and give them what for and try to get the stove we want.

As I write, the furnace man is here hooking the furnace back up. Since we had to take down the old brick chimney that the furnace used, we thought we'd have to go with one of those steel chimney jobbies that everyone here uses. But it appears we can get something called (probably wrong name) a power exhauster. It is a short pipe that comes out of the foundation wall and that's it. It has an electric fan that exhausts the fumes and apparently does a great job. Doesn't foul up the siding or poison bystanders. Not sure how but that's what they say. So we're going with that. It's cheaper than buying a 24 foot chimney anyway.

The weather has been the shits, if you'll pardon the expression. We saw the sun yesterday for the first time in nearly two weeks. It was 28 degrees Celsius yesterday. I did two loads of laundry to take advantage of a great sea-breeze and the heat. Today the grey skies are back, but it's not as cold as it was last week.

At one point I was so cold I was starting to remember why I left Newfoundland in the first place all those many years ago. I said in a weak moment, "I want to go home." My dear husband looked at me and said, "I'm already home!"

Closing in on the finish line

Summerford:

[Note: this post was written from a house we were staying in while our place was being lifted. Many thanks to a great friend Pete who let us stay there rent free for a lot longer than we anticipated.]

We're getting there. On the weekend, I actually went to Hillgrade and had a look at the house. First time I've been there in over a week, although it feels like forever.

It was a bit of a shock to see something concrete (serendipitous pun) under the house. The knee-wall is there too, as I knew it would be. Having seen it now a few times this weekend, I'm not as upset by it as I was at first. They have roughed in spaces for windows should we ever want to put some in. There's a door - extra wide - to the crawl space.

The front (sea side) of the house is now in it's final position. It will not be lowered any further. The back will be adjusted as its time comes to rest on the foundation. They still have to put the block wall in the back and sides and are doing that as I speak, I should imagine. They didn't work on the weekend although the bossman said he would have liked to. However, the fellows haven't had a weekend off in five weeks so John said he thought it was time they had one.

So today, apart from finishing the block wall (atop the concrete foundation), they will put the weeping tile into the trench to conduct away the bog water that was causing us so many problems to start with. (Heck, if it hadn't been for this bog water, our house would probably have stood another century without intervention.)

John figures we'll be back in the house by Friday, which means the men will be finished by then, and John will have hooked the plumbing up. He has more work to do than just reconnect what he disconnected because he decided to move the location of the septic pipe as well as the garden hose. However, he's confident he can get it done in a day. We're not going to worry about getting the furnace hooked up before we move back because the weather has turned nice and we likely won't freeze before the furnace man gets to do his thing.

Here are some pics that I took on Friday. You can see the foundation, especially on the front. It gives a good idea of how things are going. 

John is going to sort through the wood that's strewn on the ground today. It will all become firewood. Our neighbour has a wood furnace and will take whatever we don't want, even if it has paint on it or concrete bits. I'm not crazy about burning painted wood but I suppose it's not leaded paint so....

Looking pretty darn good, I must say. Like a house that will stand for another hundred years.  Tis odd to see 90 degree corners. 

That Solstice Thing Really Works

Hillgrade:

Summer has arrived. Right on cue. Sunday, June 22, was magnificent. The sky was a clear and heart-breaking blue. The temp was 20 when we were driving towards Twillingate. It must have gone higher because we had to take off clothing after that.

Yesterday we decided to take a hike to see the iceberg that is just off French Beach. It's really around the headland that is north of French Beach, but we don't know the name of that headland. There is bound to be a local name and I will inquire. But suffice to say for now that the iceberg is just north of French Beach.

We drove as far as is possible. Parked by the sign that declares the Road Beyond This Point Impassible. We ate the sandwiches we had made, reckoning that it was better to fuel up before we started than to eat them squished later. We packed a bottle of water into a knapsack and started off. We really weren't sure of the route but figured how hard could it be.

As we were tramping in, we met some people coming out. I stopped them and asked if they had seen the iceberg. Of course they had and reported that the trail was a loop. Even if you go the hard way, you can come out the easy way. Oookay. They were tourists and were not particularly friendly, being mainlanders and all.

A fellow coming out in a truck told us that the trail started just by an old cabin. Very good then.

We found what appeared to be the start of the trail and headed off. Before long, we were nearly up to our knees in a bog and had to double back. We took a rockier path, although to get across the boggy part, we had to jump stones. I didn't get my feet wet so I guess I must not be that old yet.

The path took us along the coast and the scenery was breathtaking. See pics below.

We had to scramble up some very precarious slopes, grasping at tree roots (at least I was), slipping and sliding. But I made it up! Yay. I consider it a personal achievement. The last time I was presented with a hill like that, I quit. (That was in Point Leamington a few years ago. And before you start calling me names, I'll say in my defense that I was wearing sandals when army boots would have been barely adequate.) But talk about worth it. We were atop a very large headland. Looking down I got dizzy. Looking up I got dizzy. It must be how astronauts feel. Sky everywhere.


What I remember most though is the smell. I can conjure it up now as I type. It's a scent sweet and sharp, high and low, gets into your nose and your stomach. You can taste it as though you had just eaten it. Like it seeps up through your feet. A mixture of moss and berries, lichen and spruce and juniper, and sunshine. It's enough to make you drunk. Certainly enough to make you cry.

Just when the sweat was pouring off us and we were about to strip off all our clothes, a very cool breeze brought on the shivers. We must be close to the iceberg. Over some more rocks, down a bit, around a bend and there it was.

Of course, we had to take a bunch of pictures. John took more than I did and certainly better ones. I was pooped and lay down on the moss. Got a picture of my feet with the burg beyond. It was glorious lying there. Nothing but me and the burg and the sun and the cliffs. I could have happily lain there the rest of my life. As it was, we spent about an hour out there. Then some tourists from Guelph (I know because I asked them after they had been sitting about 20 feet from us for twenty minutes. Only one of them actually spoke though. Maybe that iceberg had the rest of them tongue-tied.

I took a picture of two of them as we were leaving. I like the way she's leaning as thought she wants to get closer to the berg.

[Reviewing this entry, I realize I MUST spend some time figuring out how this blogger thing works. I absolutely hate how it (or I) have handled this pictures. There must be a better way to integrate text and images so it doesn't look like a ham-fisted job like this one.]
Anyway, I'm off to watch Wimbledon at a friend's house.

Good news. Bad news.

Snails¹

Summerford:

The men that were supposed to be moving a house in Stoneville today are not. They are instead working on our house. That's the good news.

The bad news is that there is a shortage of 8" concrete block. We'd have to get them from Clarenville or St. John's if we really wanted them. They were able to get enough for two courses and so the decision was taken yesterday afternoon to build the rest of the foundation out of concrete. So they made the forms for the walls yesterday. Today they are pouring the concrete.

As I understand it, the bottom of the foundation will be poured concrete. The top will consist of the two courses of concrete block. That's because -- again as I understand it and perhaps I don't -- as they get nearer to the bottom of the house, things get fiddlier. They will need room to pull out the rails. Blocks enable this process.

I might just get up the nerve to watch as they lower the house unto [I keep typing unto instead of onto; must be my religious upbringing, ha!] the foundation. Certainly not as nerve-wracking as the lift. Or is it? What could go wrong? Um. Let's not dwell on the negative.

Since John didn't come home for lunch, I imagine things must be in full swing in Hillgrade. Not literally, of course (or should I say, I hope).

So let's see. If they get the foundation poured today, I wonder how long it will be before they lower the house. I guess the concrete has to cure. Probably can't put any weight on it for a few days at least.

Nobody has mentioned the "knee wall" in a while. The original plan (concocted without me) was to build concrete block up to about 2 feet from the bottom of the house, and then put a knee wall (whatever that is) the rest of the way. I have visions of a very ugly facade between the basement and the house.¹

I have asked several times why a knee wall² is the way to go and I still don't understand the reasoning. Stuff about making it easier to put in windows. Duh. I've seen windows in concrete walls. I know it can be done. Heck, they're putting a door in, why not a window? I shall have to ask the gods of house lifting again why a knee wall is the be-all-and-end-all. (Hey, that rhymes.)

And so here I sit. Waiting. Again. Like the prisoner of Zenda. [Sorry. Terrible analogy. I just like saying "prisoner of Zenda."]

The local library is open today from 12:30 to 4:30 and again from 6:00 to 8:00 tonight. I thought I joined the library last year but I didn't get a card. I hear now that I should have got one. Maybe it's time to take out my frustrations on the local librarian.

Over and out.

¹The picture above shows some little fellows who came to visit the other day in the rain. They could have made a great meal for those so inclined.

²John saw a house in Cottrell's Cove the other day that has an area just below the roof line that is clad in fake brick siding. Did they run out of clapboard? Did they actually prefer this? Is this was a knee wall looks like?

The store that time forgot

Summerford:

In the previous post, I mentioned going into a store in Stoneville to ask for directions.

What a place! From the outside it was just a nondescript building. Could be a roadhouse, a storehouse, or an anything house. It had few if any windows that I remember. The door on the right side of the building was reachable by a few large wooden steps.

On opening the door, I thought I was on a stage head. Large coils of rope, balled up tarpaulins and other unidentifiable items crowded the entryway. I had to push the door all the way open to the right to find space to walk.

Ahead of me was a rather large open area and to my right, aisles and aisles of merchandise, some on shelves, some on the floor, some falling from shelf to floor. Some was hung from the ceiling, some propped against the walls. Still more was piled on the floor. None of it looked like it had been disturbed in decades.

To my left was a very tall display, if I can call it that, of more merchandise. It may have been stacked on a counter that I think ran the length of the front of the building. At the far end of this counter were two men: one behind the counter, one in front. Obviously store owner and customer.

I approached them and was completely unable to hide my astonishment at what I was seeing. I probably said something like "Wow. There's a lot of stuff in this store."

The customer remarked with a nod of his head towards the storekeeper, "And he's the only one who knows what's here." The storekeeper grinned, with what could be nothing other than pride.

I asked them if they knew who was having a house moved. They both shook their heads and mentioned the house that had been raised and which we had passed on our way into town. They figured that it probably wasn't going anywhere at this stage since the concrete blocks for its foundation had already been stacked at the side.

The storekeeper asked if I wanted him to call the gas station to see if they might know. Sure, I said. That'd be nice of him. He got on the phone and I could hear the names of a couple being mentioned and within seconds I had the information I had come in for. The house we sought was even further on the other side of town than we had allowed for so we had to go back where we'd come from in order to see it.

While he was on the phone, I was rummaging in the chocolate bar and candy display. It was very disheveled and I found a bar that I had not seen before. Its label said Peanut Snack, All Natural. It didn't have any indicator for Trans Fats. It's ingredient label had a category called Saturated Fats and Cholesterol. I've never known any products to have that breakdown of ingredients. It should have been a clue.

I put it on the counter and told him I'd take it. He said he wouldn't charge me for it because it was probably old. I told him I'd find another one since there were lots there. He said they were all old. I said that was probably okay because I was too. We all laughed.

He said the only way to find out if it was edible or not was to open it. He tore one open and took a bite. Old, he said. It didn't look too bad to me, so I asked him how much he'd charge for the bars normally. Oh, about seventy-nine cents, he figured. I put two quarters down on the counter and said I couldn't take something for nothing. I left, telling him I'd be back since we lived not far away.

And I will be back. Will get Jo to go with me. And I'll have a camera next time. I'll ask permission of course, but I'll get some good pics.

As I was leaving, I got a glimpse of one of those lamps that people used to put in their livings rooms in mid-70s. Like 3 lights on a pole, one low, one medium, one high. With an amber shade on each. Wow.

I'll be back and I'll tell you about it. In the meantime, don't buy any Peanut Snack bars. They probably don't make them anymore and if you find one, it's definitely old. Yowsa.

Things are still looking up

Summerford:

And by that I mean, the house is still up in the air.

And if you're wondering why I've not posted in a while, I've got no reason. No excuse either. Just didn't feel like it.

This living in someone else's house [left] is for the birds. Don't get me wrong. It's a perfectly good house. And I shall be eternally grateful for the senendipitous collision of Pete's departure and our need for a place to live. Not to mention his generousity in offering it to us for as long as we need it. In my naïveté, I thought we'd be back in our place in a week or so. Alas, we may be here another two weeks.

And here we sit. Well, at least that's what I'm doing. John goes up to the house every day to see what's new, to make sure the workmen are not forgetting where the plumbing lines go through the walls, or the furnace fuel line or the water intake line, etc.

Yesterday the boss man (Coates) said that they might not be working on our place today, that they might be moving a house in Stoneville instead, if Nfld Light and Power was going to come through and move it's power lines. The deal was, if he wasn't at the work site by 9 a.m., then he'd be moving the house. When he wasn't at the house by nearly 10 a.m., John and I and Simon went to Stoneville to see the house being moved.

When we were half-way to Stoneville, we saw one of the worktrucks heading up towards Hillgrade. Probably to our site. But we decided since we'd come this far, we'd go on and at least find the house that was being moved, probably tomorrow now.

Now you'd think that since Stoneville has a population of about 150 or so (my best guess), finding a house that is being moved wouldn't be difficult. I suggested we stop at the one and only gas station and ask if they know anything. Of course, that wasn't a good idea according to John and Simon so we soldiered on. We went as far as the road to the Stoneville dump and turned around, figuring we'd missed it. Then we drove back through the town looking extra carefully. Nothing. So we stopped at what appeared to be the only store in town. I went in to ask if they knew anything. They didn't but said they'd call the gas station to see if they knew anything.

Within minutes, we were on our way, past the town dump nearly to the town of Port Albert. We found the house which I'd describe as a large cabin [right]. The hydro people were there when we arrived taking down the hydro pole and dragging it away. The move is scheduled for tomorrow. Simon knew one of the fellows on the hydro crew who said when we walked up, "You never know what's going to walk out of the woods around here." I'm still laughing.

Below are some pics of our place showing the forms for the footings being made; and concrete being poured for the footings. Today the footings are curing. The men might be working on replacing the rotten sill plates at the back of the house, or they might be dropping plumb lines for the block walls which will be the next step in the foundation. John is supervising, no doubt.