Friday, October 13, 2017

This is the best day of my holiday, for I am booked in for two nights and do not have to pack-and-run this morning. Hooray!

This is the sleepy view of the sleepy harbour at a quarter after seven.

Out towards the mouth of the bay, calm. You could swing a cat, as the often misquoted expression goes.

Did you notice the small mountain in the distance? I thought not! I think that that is near ferryland, of Farley Mowatt’s “The Boat that wouldn’t float” fame.

From my balcony I can peek onto two more balconies to my left.

I woke around seven and put the coffee on. While I slept two of the three supply ships pulled away, but while I was typing up this first hour, I became aware of movement from the water.

Ripples were entering my field of view.

Turning further to the left I see a fourth supply ship edging in backwards at less than walking speed. I claim less-than, because the apparent movement against the shore across the bay is walking pace, and the ship is closer to me by a factor of about four to one.

The ship is quite high in the water.

Down on the wharf a small terrier van stands baring its teeth, daring the Big Ugly Brute to come near.

But the Big Ugly Brute approaches anyway.

Reversing, slowing.

Then pirouetting.

Then floating still.

Then slowly backing towards the wharf. Will it crash into the wharf? Is this how they train the drivers, when everybody except me is fast asleep?

Below my balcony a small boat cruises by. It is keeping an eye on the Big Ugly Brute, but to me all those phrases about a tiny fishing boat being tossed like a cork in the sea come to life.

I think they have spotted me. All activity ceases. I make a second cup of coffee so that I will be in full bladder-panic mode as I drive into the downtown core of St John’s.

Today I plan to make the short drive (60 minutes all up) into downtown St John’s and locate the public transit headquarters to obtain a bus map for Monday/Tuesday. Next the Tourist Bureau to say hello and thank them for their help. And obtain any free maps that have. Then Signal Hill (I read “Marconi : the man who networked the world” earlier this year), and then I will establish myself as the Most Easterly Man In North America for my five minutes of fame.

After that I’d like to explore the northern and southern segment of this peninsula, which will complete my driving tour.

Given my desire to explore St John’s, I may split this into two days.

Too, I want to establish another base near St John’s for Saturday and Sunday nights, and a base in the city for Monday and Tuesday night.

This means I am planning to fly out on Wednesday and be home Wednesday night.

And now I must dabble in logistics.

I want two full days wandering downtown St John’s and then a cab ride to the airport. If I fly out on Wednesday, then I am lugging my bag to the airport on Wednesday from a downtown location. That works.

To have Monday and Tuesday walking downtown, I want to be able to drop my bags off, that is, check in, Monday morning, preferably before I return the car. I won’t have to lug my bags from Kenmount Road.

That means arriving downtown early Monday morning.

Better might be to check in to the downtown lodging late Sunday, so that Monday morning is just a drive to Kenmount, and then I am unladen for bus rides all day Monday.

That means I should find a place to stay for Sunday night in downtown St John’s, rather than Saturday and Sunday nights outside St John’s transferring in for Monday and Tuesday.

Why not just book in to a place downtown with free parking for all four nights, make out-of-town forays Saturday and Sunday? Well, St John’s has an insidious hotel tax. 13% harmonized sales tax, 5% hotel tax (hotel tax is only charged in St. John's). That is, an $89 place out of town will cost me $102.35 whereas an $89 place in town will cost me $105. That $2.67 is not a big worry to me, but remembering my experience with rental cars from the airport I should confirm this by telephone.

It seems to me that when I check out of Bay Bulls Saturday morning I should check right in to a downtown place. That gives me the flexibility to drive around the city on the weekend, or to make one last foray into the countryside, and all my baggage will be in one place.

Staying Sat/Sun/Mon/Tue nights in a downtown efficiency unit means too that I will have my milk, eggs and so on all in one basket. A Good Thing.

So. The idea now is to find an efficiency unit in downtown St John’s, or at least a B&B in the heart of downtown.

Whatever I do, I should move now, for it is after nine o’clock and I am still in my pajamas.

The flight is booked, I’ll be back in Toronto at eight p.m. Wednesday. Sigh.

(later)

I am fatigued, and it shows. I left the unit at ten this morning, a very late start for me, and an indication that I am now reluctant to get in the car and drive. I drove into St John’s, looking for the Visitor’s Information Centre, cruising back and forth around the few crowded streets, then ducked into a coffee shop for a pee, a sit-down, and a check of Google Maps on my smart-phone, but please don’t tell anyone, OK?

This ship is impressive from a distance, and from close by. That is a helicopter pad atop the bridge.

Signal Hill has some interest for me, my having just finished reading " Marconi : the man who networked the world " so I will go up there.

And to the right you see The Narrows, the entrance to the harbour.

Speaking of snappier names, when first I spotted this boat I thought it was called "Rescue Zone". I figured that the three tourists thought that they were boarding a Cruise Ship (maybe Alaskan Tours) and tried to give them a Thumbs Down, but they just posed for a photo and then ignored me.

In the Visitor’s Information Centre I grabbed a few maps and tore a few sheets off a pad of application forms; I need the back side for writing paper. The lady behind the desk acknowledged that they had a paper map of the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system on the wall, but No, they didn’t have one they could give me. Try the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system and by the way, they have moved out of town. Well out of the downtown core where they could be useful to tourists and visitors and newcomers.

Here I am atop Signal Hill. The wind is now cold, and I rather wish I’d donned my thin plastic rain/wind-breaker on top of my fall jacket. On this trip I am NOT going to dress for mid-winter. If it’s that cold, I’ll find a Public Library and write some computer programs.

The view across the city. The Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system is out towards that distant range of hills.

Every city has had at least one Great Fire. St John’s is no different.

The downtown core today back then was about one half of the entire city, but even back then the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system were probably planning to skip town.

A twin-rotor helicopter arrives to amuse me. So Kind.

My ships in harbour. I have circled where I think is sited the tourist offices. Not quite in the heart of downtown, but close enough, and I found them. Unlike Toronto which moved the Tourist walk-in centre from the heart of downtown and re-sited it in an alcove off to one side of Union Station, to attract the crowds of visitors who don’t take the failing UP Express to get from the airport.

In Toronto, OUR visitors are smart. They grab a cab or use the Toronto Transit Commission.

What would a day be without sunlight on the water. For all that the wind bites up here, it is going to be another fine day.

I took a photo across the Atlantic Ocean, but of course you can't actually see the Radio Waves any more, because they don't use them as much as Satellite Waves which come straight down from orbit, as every fule kno.

I think that’s where the old Metrobus Depot was, north of the downtown core. It is now sited out of the west end in a patch of rolling scrub, with a brand new Home Depot in the distance – that is, the Home Depot store lies between the Metrobus centre and downtown St John’s. Google says ten minutes, if you know what you are doing (what tourist does?) and travel by the Trans-Canada Highway (which I didn’t). It took me forty-five minutes, in part because there is no signage to indicate the on-ramp to the northbound Team Guishe Highway from Kenmount Road Eastbound.

So, out to the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system headquarters. Take a packed lunch, is my advice.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to navigate in Google maps to 245 Kenmount Road, switch to street view, face east (downhill), and then use the fletches to drive against the flow of the westbound traffic until you see the on-ramp for the eastbound traffic (way over to you right). First pass under the TeamG highway bridge, then take out your packed lunch ...

Out there they have a printed map of the transit system on the wall, but, alas, also alack, not a one they could give me. They don’t hand them out to the public.

No Wait! There’s Less!!

The ladies in the Metrobus Information Centre assured me that the centre is so far out of town that it isn’t served by a public transit route. Now what kind of public transit re-sites itself so far out of town that it is not readily accessible?

Here is what you do: You catch a number 16 bus that runs every hour. Let’s say you have just missed the 8:10 and wait almost an an hour to catch the 9:10 a.m. from MUN centre (other provinces would call this “Downtown”, but why quibble at this stage?). As you board you tell the driver that you want to go to the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system, and then you sit for thirty-five minutes worrying that with all the commotion up front and on the roads he/she wll have forgotten all about you.

Assuming that your driver doesn’t go barreling right past the road that leads to the Metrobus (LMINRIH) centre and continue on to Team Guishe highway (which leaves you with a long walk, you get the stares of all the other passengers as the driver negotiates the up-hill road to the Metrobus Centre and drops you off. And disappears, a busy driver!

You walk into the Metrobus (LMINRIH) centre and ask for a map; they say no. And then you get to ask the staff if they would radio to the next bus to come pick you up.

Assuming that that driver remembers, you’ll have just under an hour to wait, and guess what: There are no coffee urns, baskets of cookies, or comfortable chairs in which to sit. No Free Guided Tours of Our New facility. Where is Bill Bryson when we need him?

So at 10:45-ish the bus will pick you up, and you’ll be back downtown around 11:10, just in time to go to lunch and forget about exploring St John’s.

I began composing a letter to the Metrobus (long may its name rot in hell) transit system and smile as sweetly as I can, but at this stage it probably came across as fake as an airline stewardesses when she is showing you how to do-up a car seat belt buckle.

I bought $18 worth(less) of fares on a magnetic ticket, picked up a free copy of The Telegram. The lady said they had a map on the web-site (more about THAT later), and I left.

I took a contingency shot of their printed map, just in case.

Then I took a few quadrants as a contingency against my contingency maps not working.

Then I took detailed shots of major transfer points.

But by now my focus was gone, in two directions.

Here I am out in the parking lot, still thinking that I am driving a Little Red Car.

I sweep around as the wind sweeps around me.

I feel as if I am half-way to Clarenville.

There is a Home Depot in the distance towards town.

Trees surround us, the stunted pines of the Trans-Canada Highway.

I leave, glad to be out of St John’s.

I started driving out of St John’s on the Trans-Canada Highway (west) and then (“I am fatigued, and it shows”) spotted an exit ramp sign that said “Trepassey” and took it.

Then realised I ought not to be on that road. I am now driving eastwards along the (thin line arrow) back towards Bay Bulls, and by driving in a clockwise direction, will have to repeat this useless leg later in the day. Had I taken the thick-line arrow exit, I would have saved myself about twenty kilometres twice, say forty all up, the last leg driving in moose-rich dusk at the end of the day.

Here I am in Calvert/Ferryland. Ferryland. Farley Mowatt “The boat that wouldn’t float”.

About half the communities I’ve driven through sport these snug little place announcements. This time I pulled over and took a photo.

In the distance waves are crashing on the rocks. You can’s see it so well in my cruddy photos, but the movement moves me.

To the north a lies lovely set of cliffs being chewed up by The Atlantic Ocean.

And what I take to be a lighthouse.

A lively young lady with a voice that had tones of a Haydn Symphony took a few minutes off work in the Business Development Office to direct me to Bernard Kavanagh’s Irish Loop Restaurant, where I dined on the best Clam Chowder I can remember, squid rings, and scallops.

The view from my table just made it all the better.

Outside I took a few more shots.

Judging by the seagulls, a statue will be erected here before too long.

A close-up view of some of the cliffs. They don’t look particularly rocky, but they must surely be so.

We weren’t at 21c today, but it has been a long summer, I am told.

I read The Irish Loop News and see that the same names crop up over and over again. This makes me feel right at home, for in The Yilgarn, many farmers were surrounded by their offspring who married and bought properties nearby.

It was usual to find three or for families of the same name on council, or organizing the church, and so on.

The meal? Stupendouus. I had the clam chowder – best I can remember of my life, followed by a plate of squid rings and scallops.

Then I set off again, into the setting sun (Drat!), not even near Trepassey yet, and facing a long drive north, and then, get this, a repeat of that twenty kilometre stretch, travelling in the same direction as a few hours ago. Not even a fresh perspective. And I know that it will be dusk, and that the trees and brush will be close to the road.

My heart sinks.

Just a few miles out of Trepassey I took what would be a continuous panoramic view had I been strong enough to adjust the mode on the camera.

And so a long slog of a drive, my shoulders aching. Back in Bay Bulls at seven, I found myself leaning towards finding a downtown lodging tomorrow, with parking for the car.

Oh yes. Aboit that map of the Metrobus (LMINRIH) transit system. They have on the web an interactive map that lets you soom in and mouse around.

They do not have (AFAIK) a downloadable image or PDF map that you can take to a colour print shop.

Why mu insistence on a full-size awkward-to-refold map?

My experience riding public transit systems around the world is that the full-size awkward-to-refold map draws attention to the nerd, and local people slide across the seat and offer to help.

Too I am not all that smart, and feel more comfprtable looking out of the window at landmark buildings and street and tracing my progress with an index finger. You laugh, but that seems to connect my visual memory of what I see outside the bus with what I follow on the map.

Then too, most of all, being able to spread out a map and see the entire system makes it much easier to form a plan of attack with a sheaf of bus route schedules in hand.

If you doubt my words, just count the ratio of folks with smart-phones who are lost to folks with printed maps who are lost. In my neck of the woods the ratio is about ten-to-one, probably because a sheet map is such an obvious tool in the hands of a coule or an individual stock still on the sidewalk, whereas a smart phone might be being used to play chess, download porn, or remember the name of the musical director at St Andrews church.

That is, locals are much more likely to approach with “May I help you?” if you are holding a printed map.

Apart from that, bus drivers will give you advice and make sure you know that “you are here” as you descend the bus to connect to the next bus across the street.

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