Day 4: Cape Charles and Battle Harbour, Labrador Coast
The day opened with a beautiful sunrise and vistas of the incredibly wild Labrador coast as we approached the remote settlement of Cape Charles.

As we landed, I realized that my inner hermit, in spite of the contrary demands of my outer socialite who did not want to miss a thing, was desperately in need of some time alone. This was the first time that I had travelled on an organized tour of any length. Adventure Canada had been delivering a packed timetable of lectures and social activities. There were usually two landings per day with tours, hikes and community meals. At night I shared a very small room with a near stranger. So while the rest of the passengers headed off in various directions away from the mostly-abandoned fishing settlement of St. Charles, I parked myself on a rock and spent most of the morning drawing, out of site of our on-board artist, David Marshak, also sketching.

The stillness was profound. I heard only waves, wind, seabirds, and rush of the small stream that cuts down through the village. I walked through the settlement, peering at the buildings, walkways, platforms, wood piles, fishing gear. I stole glances into the interiors of the buildings, still full of people’s things. It was like pressing my nose against the glass of a different universe. I could see it all, but I heard no voices. The stage and all the props were here, but no actors. The same tentative sun, the same restless sea, the same calling gulls, the same salt smells, the same derelict wind and ever-changing light. But the village was a shell, drained of human life — sitting, waiting for nothing. I felt like it was me that was the ghost, wandering through a frozen moment of time, unable to see the living souls.

We headed by Zodiac back to the ship and steamed on to Battle Harbour, a national historic site, which has largely been restored, using private funds, over a period of 17 years. It was once a major fishing centre, a sort of unofficial capital of the Labrador coast. The now-empty harbour was at times almost completely full of boats and vast flakes — drying platforms for the salt cod. These were summer homes, abandoned in the winter. Our guide talked about the exploitation of the fishermen and their families by the merchants, and how debt was a permanent fixture of life, with people being born into debt inherited from their parents. And yet, in spite of the harsh conditions and oppressive economic system, our guide talked about home much his family loved it, and how happy they had been there.

We visited the store, the church, the building where they stored immense quantities of salt, brought up from the Caribbean for salting the fish. I looked through a bin of actual store receipts from decades before — orders for flour, molasses, bacon. We viewed the buildings that are now being used as bed-and breakfasts during the tourist season.

I could readily understand how people might fall in love with a place like this. The views were unforgettable. The, rocky, barren shore, stretching off forever. The power of the wind, the waves. The sense of the overpowering wildness and solitude. The buildings looking as if you could gather them up again and take them away, and the land would look just as wild and untouched as it originally had.

About
Steve Fick: Artistic Statement

Daily Journal
Day 1: St John’s & Salmonier Nature Park
Day 2: Change Islands & Tilting
Day 3: L’Anse aux Meadows & Raleigh
Day 4: Cape Charles & Battle Harbour, Labrador Coast
Day 5: Gros Morne National Park
Day 6: Grand Codroy Valley
Day 7: White Bear Bay & Ramea
Day 8: Conne River & Francois
Day 9: St.-Pierre, France
Day 10: Return to St. John’s

Related Stories
Ghost coast
Torngat Mountains

Resources
www.fick.ca
www.danielpayne.ca
Adventure Canada
Newfoundland & Labrador