One More for the Road: La Poile
To get to La Poile, you take Hwy 470 for some 45 km to the end of the road and then catch a ferry for an hour and a half ride. I'm thinking it's going to be an easy day but it's anything but; the hills are relentless and cruel. I’m again in walking-my-weary-ass-up-the-hill mode. The scenery, though, is as magnificent as the hills are wicked: stark mountain tundra, rocky shoreline and blue, blue sea. The road hugs the rugged mountains intimately, up, down, around, each turn taxing the body but energizing the spirit. On the hillsides and in the valleys I recognize spruce and tamarack; they are barely a foot tall, matted together against the frozen blasts of winter to form an impenetrable tangle. There are a few heroic goldenrods and these are the tallest plants around.
There are some villages on the way - Margaree, Isle aux Mortes (Island of Death!), Burnt Islands. The names are evocative and the houses are all plunked down willy-nilly on the rocky shore. But they're mostly just soulless suburban houses, with vinyl siding and neatly manicured lawns. It's only when the road gives a final gasp and gives up the ghost, at Rose Blanche, that you find your picture postcard Newfoundland village, each house brightly painted and hanging by its teeth to the rocks. There is also an awesome 19th century lighthouse out on a barren point. Stunning! I barely have time for a visit though; I have to hurry to catch the ferry to La Poile.
Out on the water now, the ferry passes Petites, another outport. You can see the church and the houses, but you won’t see any people. It is abandoned, everyone resettled in 2003. It’s a real-life ghost town; it makes you feel kind of sad looking at it. I learn the same fate has befallen Grand Bruit (Big Noise), the next outport past La Poile. La Poile, though, hangs on. The population is 55, very soon to be 54 if the looks of one old guy on the ferry are anything to go by. No fooling, I thought he was a corpse. But two ladies, his daughters maybe, manage to half lead, half carry him off the boat and load him onto an ATV.
The town is really cute! It has a road that’s paved and just wide enough for two ATVs to pass each other. From this, wooden boardwalks extend to every house. These are much needed, the ground everywhere is soft and wet. All is neat and tidy, the houses are like little Bilbo Bagginses' places, tucked in here and there wherever they can be fit in. Some are a bit tacky, with little lawn dwarfs and whirligigs and such, but they show care and pride of place.
Some of the people, though, look less good than the houses. Many are old and really way too big, a few I see are barely able to walk. It’s a surprisingly busy place though, with a good vibe. A few men are banging away renovating a house, others are putting up firewood for the winter. Old men sit in front of their houses, chatting with friends. The tiny store has a steady stream of traffic, more of visitors, I think, than customers. It is a pleasant evening and everyone is out, calling out cheerily to everyone else as they go by. It’s easy to see why resettlement is not necessarily a happy option.
The ferry is scheduled for the convenience of residents, not visitors. It departs La Poile at 8 am, for a day of shopping, medical appointments, or other business in Port aux Basques. The return run is at 4 pm. There is no tourist accommodation in town so you wouldn’t expect a lot of visitors. No problem for me though, if I can find a piece of flat ground, that is. The schoolyard is flat, they tell me, you can set up there. But the yard is spongy and sopping wet and the abode of ravenous black flies. The school is locked up, there have been no kids for years, so I set up on the steps. I mean, everybody should sleep on the school steps at least once in their lives, no? Nobody seems to mind and nobody visits. They're not much interested in me; they're with their friends and families and they know I'll be gone in the morning. Despite my bright turquoise gore tex rain jacket, I feel quite invisible. It’s just as well, really, my hearing aid battery has been dead for days and I can't understand them anyway. The night is pleasant and I have a good sleep.
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Today's ride: 45 km (28 miles)
Total: 1,251 km (777 miles)
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