King's Cove Harbor
King's Cove /10x10
WHEN CAROL AND I are driving toward Bonavista the first time, we start seeing big signs for the Round Da Bay Inn. At the Bonavista Cafe, we see paintings by the guy who runs the inn, and Miranda, who owns the cafe, points us to a pamphlet about the place, and says that Charlie and Karen, the innkeepers, are really great.
When Carol leaves, I am feeling a little lonely, so after a day of wrestling with the fog - now there's a good book title, "Wrestling with the Fog" ! - I decide to check it out. (More on the Inn, and Charlie and Karen, below). I have a good night's sleep, feel welcome and safe and like family, and decide to spend a second night there, go back to the Bonavista area again to paint.
Wind is forecasted, but it hasn't started yet when I stop in King's Cove to paint. I love the boats in the harbor, but I know this will be another challenge - boats, water, buildings and a pile of old wood in front of it all.
Typically, I'd leave out the old wood, or the buildings, or the boat in the background. Typically, I'd do this painting in the studio, where I wouldn't have to worry about light or wind or the vagaries of a dock. But again, I am meeting challenges this trip, so I set to it.
This painting has undergone a couple revisions since I finished it, as you can tell from the PinP, or painting in place, as I label them. It wasn't until I finished and looked at it later that I realized I'd painted the pole from the boat right in the center of the painting, so I scratched that out, readjusted the lines of the boat, worked more on the wood and then told myself to stop.
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Round Da Bay Inn
I can't eat bread these days, because of my gluten issues, but I can tell a good loaf of bread from pretty far off, and these are good-looking loaves.
Charlie, who runs the inn with his wife Karen, checks me in, invites me to have supper in the dining room, and tells me that Joanne makes the bread, and I will meet her in the morning.
Joanne tells me she was living in Alberta when life changed for her and she decided to come back east, at least for a while,
“I had nothing holding me there,” she says.
She and Karen had been friends in high school, and Joanne applied for the baking job and got it. Starting at about 3 every morning, she bakes varying numbers of loaves and rolls and finishes up around 8 or 9.
In the summer, she and her dog and cat live in a camper behind the inn. In the winter, they will move into a room inside. She doesn’t know how long she will stay, but loves it there. and Kaylee and Frank Sinatra do, too, Joanne says.
Charlie and Karen opened the inn about eight years ago, with one of Charlie’s brothers as cook. Charlie tells me that the first week, they received $4,700 worth of protein and produce for the restaurant and - he shrugs and rolls his eyes - had no idea where even to put it!
Now, the inn and restaurant are chugging along, and he and Karen have bought a church in King’s Cove, that they’re going to turn into a gallery and cafe. Charlie is an artist, though he doesn’t have much time for it these days.
Here's my breakfast. It was delicious! I especially like the little inuskuk made of honeydew.
Here's Joanne again, in the kitchen. Below, some of the goods Karen puts up every year. There's carrot soup, root-veggie soup, berries, and who knows what else.
Above, Karen and Charlie in front of a painting of the garden behind the inn. We bartered for a night's stay and meals. Below, the front of the inn. Each room is decorated differently, and each with a theme. The first night, I stayed in the Beach Hut, which had, yes, beachy art and bedspreads and pillows. The back wall looked like the outside of a beach cottage Charlie's aunt had when he was small, with white shingles and red trim. The second night, I stayed in the Rose Garden, which had a floral theme, including a fountain attached to one wall.
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Dog of the Day
It's Kaylee, Joanne's old girl, who busted out of the camper and came to visit while I was loading the van. I bet she could smell Doc and Lulu and Koko and Abby, who have all visited Bella, the big van.
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A Final Thought
"The journey, not the arrival, matters."
- T. S. Eliot
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