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Canadian Odyssey On The Looney Front, Part 6 - Mike Arkus
Canadian Odyssey On The Looney Front, Part 6 - Mike Arkus
Arkus
OK, this is where the real fun starts. I'm in Deer Lake, western Newfoundland, where the province's
only long-distance bus line takes a very distinct turn east, while I take a very distinct turn north. But
first of all, how did I get here on my overland-or-by-sea-public-transport Canadian odyssey?
In North Sydney, Nova Scotia, I board Martime Atlantic's MV Highlanders. It's raining, it's as foggy
as a London pea-souper, I can't see more than a few yards out of the windows, we've had no lifeboat
drill, I can't see any life vests, it's been a very severe winter and icebergs and great chunks of ice are
lurking off Newfoundland's coasts unusually late this year, and I'm thinking TITANIC!
North Sydney
It's a six-hour crossing. Wow, it took the Titanic less than half that time - just two hours and 42
minutes - from hitting its iceberg off Newfoundland to sink. How do I know our ultra-modern radar is
working? The sea's 50 shades of hostile grey though not yet
http://www.rodriguezlandscapes.com/how-to-check-the-reputation-of-a-limo-rental-service/ roiling,
I've just eaten a three course meal (chicken soup for the soul, baked cod and strawberry shortcake),
now the sea is indeed roiling ever so slightly, there are even a few white caps, and if it ain't gonna
be TITANICS-VILLE, it may well be PUKE-EARLY-AND-OFTEN-Ville.
The ferry's virtually empty so there's at least enough lifeboats to go round, unlike the Titanic, so
there's no way we're going to rival it with our toll. Now the guy at the table over there is rocking
jerkily and turning his head this way and that as he attacks his roast pork, a fine performance of St.
Vitus dance if ever there was. He's giving every one very strange glares. I hope he hasn't stashed an
AK-47 on board.
I've located a cupboard on deck 7 with green life vest icons on it, and I now notice that screens all
over the frigging place are playing emergency life vest and lifeboat drills in a continuous loop. But
nobody's looking at them and it's gonna be total pandemonium as we collide into and trample each
other when we hit that iceberg, and... and... and...
Icebergs at sea
Hi, Uncle Gus! Remember me?
After all that, we do arrive in one piece at Port aux Basques on the south-western tip of
Newfoundland. It's a spot favoured over the centuries by Basque fishermen, hence its name. It's still
raining, it's still 50 shades of grey, but there's an austere beauty to the rugged cliffs and a deep
green to the scant vegetation that is reminiscent of Iceland.
Newfoundland landscape
We pass through Stephenville, dubbed by Lonely Planet as 'possibly the least appealing town in
Newfoundland.' There's a U.S. army jet on a pole attesting to its former career as a U.S. Army
Airforce, then U.S. Airforce base from 1941 to 1946. Its streets still bear the names of U.S. states Minnesota Drive, Tennessee Drive etc.
At over 42,000 square miles Newfoundland is larger than either Cuba or Iceland and a good bit
bigger than Ireland. It was inhabited by the indigenous Beothuk at the time of European
colonisation. They painted their faces red with ochre, providing the original 'red' for the Europeans'
generic appellation of Red Indians. They were totally killed off by fighting with the newcomers and
European diseases
Meanwhile the bus conductress has put on Son of God on the video and guards are now rushing all
over biblical Jerusalem looking for Jesus in what resemble ancient Chinese helmets in the shape of
coolie hats - hardly very kosher.
Western Newfoundland
All papers signed at the rental desk, key in hand, I make for the black Ford Fusion, which I am
ominously told is brand new, never been used before, not a scratch, a shining glory. I press a button
and hey presto the doors open, but I can't open the boot. Back at the desk I'm told to hit another
button twice.
A few minutes later I'm back at the desk again. I can't start the frigging Fusion because there's no
frigging key. I press a button which says start/stop, a whole lot of screens flash on like the TVs in a
high security guard office, and that's it. They return with me and tell me to press the brake and the
'start' button at the same time. Well, how the hell was I to know!
Some of the technological gimmicks seem to make good sense - especially the rear-view video which
shows you when you're backing into a wall - critical for me after my Azores incident - the lanekeeping gizmo, the collision warning, the automatic speed limit etc.
But wow, I just want to drive up to see where the Vikings landed. If I wanted all that, I'd have joined
the air force and rented a Boeing 747.
When I'm not staring askance at the dials I'm being told by numerous signs along the Viking Trail to
look out for moose. I've barely left Deer Lake before a large yellow sign with a massive antlered
creature says: 'Watch for moose.' A little further on they don't even use words; there's just a large,
angry looking antlered creature staring down a car - and it's not clear who's going to win.
How amoosing
Another sign with a dirty great ton-heavy moose does have words: 'Be moose cautious.' Yet another,
just to drive home the point, has yon dirty great beast with the moose-on-car or car-on-moose
accidents so far this year: 07.
Let them steal the frigging Fusion! Luddite today, Luddite tomorrow, Luddite forever.
______________
By the same author: Bussing The Amazon: On The Road With The Accidental Journalist, available
with free excerpts on Kindle and in print version on Amazon.
And Swimming With Fidel: The Toils Of An Accidental Journalist, available on Kindle, with free
excerpts here, and in print version on Amazon in the U.S here.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mike-arkus/there-are-cars-then-there_b_5628358.html