North to Newfoundland

Island Park Morning, 10x10 I HAVE GOTTEN ahead of myself, and so early in the trip! We arrive in Channel Port-Aux-Basques Thursday on the ferry (more on this below, and on the blog), and are struck by how utterly foreign the landscape is. It looks like the Shetland Islands, or some place even more distant. As we drive out of Port-Aux-Basques. the landscape normalizes a little. Trees begin to appear, and the rocks recede a little, or are covered with grass and small hills. It is beautiful, but in a more known way. Early in the day, we pull into a lovely little provincial park and I make this painting. I am sure it will be one of my favorites of the trip. The sky is quiet, birds sing and fly, the morning air is crisp and the water clear and blue. After I finish this painting, THEN we head to Gros Morne, the subject of the yesterday's newsletter. *** Weather Watch IT IS COOL HERE in the mornings, in the upper 50s, and every morning has been cloudy...

Gros Morne ALL ALONG, one of our aims has been to see a moose, and people tell us, again and again, go to Gros Morne, that's where the moose are.  So we go. It is beautiful. Breath-taking. Grand. Spectacular, even. But in all honesty, Carol and I suspect we are missing most of it, even missing the best of it, because we are not hiking, climbing, foraging along the trails. It is not that kind of trip, this trip, and we have to be OK with that. And we are.  All that being said, there's a big part of me that admires Canada for leaving this park - and UNESCO World Heritage site - relatively unmarked by roads. If you really want to see most of the great stuff, you have to get out and hike. It is not instantly, easily available by car as many American parks are.  So we drive, we walk a little, we see some amazing sights, and I paint.  While I'm working, a couple drives up. Carl and his daughter Abbie. In one of those amazing twists of fate, it turns...

On the River in Truro / 16x16 THERE SEEMS TO BE a lot of geographical bragging about the Bay of Fundy tides and tidal bores. The tides are highest in Burntcoat Head in Nova Scotia, according to several people, and one page on the Internet.  These guys were behind us on the road and could tell we were looking for something According to a sign we see, the tides are highest in the town of Hants.  No, the tidal bore is best in Truro, on the Salmon River, says Kathy at the Truro information station, and this is echoed by two nice guys who think we are lost and stop to help.  But no, says a woman at the information center in South Maitland, the bore is best in South Maitland, where the railroad bridge used to be.    “Bore” is an old Norse word for “wave.” When the water from the rising tide in the Bay of Fundy is funneled into the Shubenacadie River,  the narrowed channel, huge amount of water and topography of the river floor c...

A few seconds after I take this photo, we are in Canada!  AFTER A COUPLE DAYS  of driving, and a night at Wendilee's, we hit the border at St. Stephen's, New Brunswick. The border guard, Jordan, asks for our passports and we hand them over. He is a young man, clean-shaven, a little humorless. He asks the purpose of our trip, and we tell him tourism. He asks if we have anything in the van that we are planning to leave in Canada. Electronics, televisions, gifts? No. Our hotel in Truro. Love how her pants match the hanging flowers.  "Do you have any guns, mace or self-protective devices?" he asks. "Do you think we need some?" I ask. He doesn't find me funny. Doesn't crack a smile. Even so, he lets us into Canada and we are on our way. It is really exciting to be in another country. And it is really different, immediately. It feels different. It looks different. The streets are a different width. The highway signs are worded differ...

Me, setting out for Newfoundland I SAID GOODBYE to Peter and the dogs on Thursday and headed north. After a truly wonderful show in Mystic, CT, over the weekend, I rose early and got myself to the airport in Providence and picked up my friend Carol Baney, who is accompanying me on the first part of the trip, and we set off for Canada!  Woody had surgery before I left, to remove bladder stones.  He is out of the cone now and doing well, Peter says.  Bye-bye, doggies!  Here's Carol, arriving at the airport. Road Art!  The Big Blue Bug, a touchstone on I-95 in Providence.  It's been there as long as I can remember.  *** Wendilee's Place We stopped the first night in Winter Harbor, Maine, to stay with my friend Wendilee Heath O'Brien, a marvelous painter and fascinating person. She makes art in a variety of styles and uses a variety of media, and does it all with great verve, rich imagination...