Newfoundland Adventures part 3: St. John's Cape Spear Lighthouse

Though we did not wake up in time for the 5:30 am sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean, we did arrive at Cape Spear Lighthouse about an hour before it opened. The early start (at least by our standards) was due to picking up breakfast items from the Shopper's the night before. Some yogurt, granola, and tea bags go a long way to jump starting the day.

It was a magical being there before the tour buses and crowds. I spoke with a couple from Quebec who was up even earlier than we were. They saw whales and moose before we arrived. I saw neither. We were told what to look for to see whales (birds circling over a space, a puff of water, a dark spot) and Don was able to put the pieces together. The whales were still too far off for my eyes. I learned the French word for puffin is macareux, which is not nearly as adorable as puffin.

I spied some green stones just off the path I admired. Just as I often take home a seashell, I thought about adding to my collection. After visiting the lighthouse, though, I did not see any more of the green stones on the path.

I was surprised to learn this is the easternmost point of North America. I felt as if I was crossing an item off on a non-existent wish list of places to go: a half-hour time zone, easternmost point of the continent, and later (on our last full day of vacation) the place where the continents were once attached.

The highlight of visiting Cape Spear is walking through the original lighthouse, which did not open until 10:30 am. Half an hour before opening, the coffee shop starts serving treats and the art gallery welcomes visitors. We also notice the parking lot filling up with cars, vans, and buses. Our near solitude is coming to an end.

The art gallery had an exhibit by local artist Leslie Noseworthy of lighthouses around Newfoundland. Undoubtedly it would have meant more to us if we had seen the lighthouses in person, but we could admire the variety in the images. Some were at night. Some in bright light. Most were just of the lighthouse and land, but a few included people. The one image had a man sitting next to a paint can labeled with a local brand that the docent said was owned by the artist's friend. The freshly painted lighthouse popped off the page. One picture that was too big to come to the trailer-sized building was for sale for $5 CAD -- less than $5 USD -- it was of the northern lights filling the sky. The docent (wearing lighthouse earrings) said the original fills one wall in the artist's home. I wished I could have taken Don's mom to see the exhibit, or at least tell her about it after I came home.

In thinking about the nuances between the United States and Canada, Don noted the café, though in the middle of nowhere, charged a fair price for tea and a snack. Tea was about $3. I would be hard pressed to find a similar price for a cup of tea around Princeton. He also noted the gas station closest to the airport charged the same rate as most of the stations we saw in Newfoundland, whereas the gas stations closest to American airports raise their prices knowing you won't go anyplace else. We added "moose fart" cookies to our tea. 

It was finally 10:30 so we made our way to the lighthouse. All along I was anticipating entering the tall building near the coast line, instead we went to the squat building behind it.

Sitting in the ubiquitous red Adirondack chairs 

It is the 50th anniversary of Cape Spear becoming a national park.

Being a lighthouse tender is an all-consuming job. This square building with the dome on top was the first lighthouse and was in operation from 1836-1955. There is not much known about the first operator as the records may have been lost in a fire. Today the lighthouse reflects what life may have looked like for that family. They assume a husband, wife, and two children lived there. The second (and last family) to operate the lighthouse were the Cantwells. When James and his wife moved there ten years later in 1846, they had five children. They later added another seven to the tiny house.

The lighthouse is still in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town would have been an hour hike through. It is still a long twisty, windy drive off the main road. In the 19th century, your trips to town would have been planned and all-consuming. It would have been extremely isolating. I can't imagine the life.

The new lighthouse was completed in 1955. In 1997 it became fully automated and de-staffed. Gerry Cantwell was the last lighthouse keeper.

A few more pictures:

From the lighthouse we drove to Signal Hill Historic Site on the opposite side of St. John's.

Newfoundland Adventures part 2: St. John's

Newfoundland, like Uluru, Australia, is one of those rare half-hour off time zones. Landing at 5:30 pm meant it was still 3 pm back home. A quick google search shows Nepal and parts of New Zealand also have 45-minute time zones. A new goal.

St. John's Airport (YYT) is a scant 15 minutes away from the city. The car rental was steps from the exit. We are so used to Newark Airport with its three large terminals and endless fields of parking lots that the size was a bit jarring. As were the laid back attitudes. At the end of the trip when we returned the car before our 7:30 am flight, we found a box to drop the key into. It didn't seem very secure. Later that day I received an email thanking me for renting with them, so I guess all was fine.

We drove to the VRBO to get settled. After two 2-hour flights I was ready to stretch my legs so we walked 20-minutes to downtown St. John's.

Depending on your source, St. John's is the oldest settlement in North America. It started as a fishing village on June 24, 1497, then on August 5, 1583 Queen Elizabeth I decreed it a town. St. Augustine, Florida was founded in 1565. Some say St. John's is the oldest English-founded city in North America. I often laugh at the different ways to declare something the first.

I was disappointed I did not do a little more research first when making our plans. We missed their pride parade by mere hours. 

Water Street, Canada's oldest street, turns into a pedestrian street during summer days. Thankfully Google Maps is aware of this and never once suggested a route that would have involved plowing down pedestrians.

The town was a bit quiet. We found an Irish/Newfoundland restaurant. Don had a moose burger. Rather than saying "it tasted like chicken," I'll go with "it tasted like tough beef." I ate a lot of cod on the trip. Mostly fried, as is the local custom.

There is not much to say about the downtown area. We did see some brightly colored houses, locally called Jellybean Row. I went into it thinking they meant a specific few homes, but left realizing the term reflects the style and brightly colored homes throughout downtown.

We settled into our home for the next two days to rest up. I planned a busy day of sightseeing.

Newfoundland Adventures part 1: overall

When Don's college friend Tracey told us about going to Gander, Newfoundland to see "Come from Away" I could tell Don was jealous. It is one of his all time favorite musicals. We saw it twice on Broadway, once in 2017, and again a couple of years later when Ashley's Canadian friend, Lauren, was in town. It is a feel-good musical about how the locals took care of those who "come from away" (their term for non-locals) in the aftermath of the US airspace being closed due to the 9/11 terror attacks. Nearly seven thousand "CFA's" took over a town of 9,000 turning strangers into friends, and then into family. If you ever get the opportunity to see the play, go. 

A few months ago Don was talking to a customer at REI when the topic of Newfoundland came up. He told them the story of being jealous that Tracey went. The customer said they will be doing it again this summer. After a few moments of debate, and looking at the calendar, we bought tickets for July 24th and built a trip around it.

Some consulting with Tracey, we devised the following itinerary:

Fly to St. John

Two days in St. John

Drive three hours to Trinity

Two days in Trinity 

Drive to Gander

A day and a half in Gander

Drive to St. John

Fly home

Worked out to six days.

If you are following our example and planning a trip for the summer of 2026 when they plan to do this in honor of the 25th anniversary, I want to add that Tracey really like the town of Twillingate. By the time I tried to make hotel reservations, they were all booked up.

I did not make a lot of notes. I anticipate less posts that usual for a trip of this length, or posts with more pictures than text.

Closer to Home Archaeology

Recently my friend Debbi asked me if I wanted to help out on a dig in Monmouth County. TAVI, the historical group she volunteers with, was sponsoring a dig on a farm in Upper Freehold. Students from Monmouth University would be there, but they also wanted some volunteers.

TAVI stands for The Allentown Village Initiative. The group is made up of people who want to share Allentown, NJ's history, while beautifying the downtown area. The goal of the one day dig was to see if there was a connection to the Revolutionary War. The Battle of Monmouth is clearly identified as taking place in a different part of the county. Declaration of Independence signer, David Brearley, had a law office in downtown Allentown. 

The day of the dig was pleasant for July, but a little on the warm side. TAVI provided hoagies and bottles of water. The owner of the farm provided entertainment in that we watched his horses and goats study us in their field. Their grandchildren came out and learned about archaeology.

The Monmouth University students, under the leadership of their professor, laid out a grid and put flags marking each spot they wanted to dig an STP (Shovel Test Pit). We then separated so as not to crowd each other. Each student working with a member of the public who used their collapsible screens to discover treasures. The students did the heavy lifting and digging. The rest of us oohed and aahed over the pieces of pottery, and building materials found.

My most exciting find was a Coke Bottle dating back around 1955. Unfortunately, unlike many from that era, this one did not have a date. The experts could tell it approximate age from its raised lettering.

My friends Dan and Stacey joined Debbi, Mike, and other TAVI volunteers. Stacey graduated with a degree in archaeology from Monmouth University. Dan digs with me at Newlin Grist Mill and last summer went on a dig in the United Kingdom with Time Travelers. They are both serious archaeologists. I fall somewhere in-between serious and casual. 

Have trowel. Will travel.

Mini High School Reunion

Earlier this summer Chuck, someone I used to know in high school, invited me to his beach house for a party. My seventeen-year-old 's heart leaped! Finally, an invitation to hang with the cool kids! The cool performing arts kids! 

In high school I floated mostly by myself. My yearbook is filled with signatures because I wasn't too self absorbed to ask for autographs. Indeed I did sign Chuck's book. Embarrassingly, I could barely recognize my handwriting. It was filled with a fangirl's plea for him to send me an autographed playbill of every show he was in. 

Spoiler alert: that never happened.

Bigger spoiler alert: I never expected it to happen.

Had Facebook not been invented, and had someone from high school not found me, my life would have moved forward without seeing him or the others at the party. I still have imposter syndrome that I was even invited. The party was to show our former choir director that he became a big success. The beach house is tastefully decorated as only a gay man with great taste, or friends with great taste can do. It looked like it was ready for a magazine photo shoot. Not a stray piece of anything out of place, which was a contrast to other details from the party.

First, Chuck greeted us wearing the cast t-shirt from Hello, Dolly, one of the two shows we did together in high school. Not only does he still have the shirt from 1986, he fills it better than he did when he was 17-years old. He brought out pictures from our high school days, and his laptop which had a video of him singing in Oklahoma, the other musical we did together. The piece de resistance, was when we did a costume change and came out wearing the shirt he wore in that musical. The shirt the choir director's mother made for him. The shirt he has kept since 1986. It has moved with him just for this day.

I had total imposter syndrome at the event. First of all, I was never in choir. My sisters were. My role in the musicals were in the pit orchestra -- the one part not controlled by the choir director. Our paths only crossed a couple of times.

I held off on writing this post because I didn't want the crowd at Chuck's house to find this. I realize the likelihood of anyone from that day reading this are slim. I barely crossed their RADAR in high school. That hasn't really changed.

I enjoyed reconnecting with people, but was grateful I had a hard deadline to leave. I agreed to review a play. As theater people, that excuse made them happy.

A few of us talked about our upcoming 40th reunion. Big or small? Hotel or VFW? What do we care about in this stage? 

I did leave with a "playdate." An invitation to get together with Barb. We were even able to put the date on the calendar and make it happen. There is that.

*SMASH*

The moment I overheard someone say "he hit a convertible," I knew the convertible was my beloved Veronica. I ran past people wearing a bikini top and skirt coverup not bothering to pause to put on shoes. How bad was it?

As I tried to see the damage, people came up to me and explained he came in the backyard and tried to find the owner, but ended up leaving a note.

There were maybe 20 people at the pool party. The yard was not that big.

I want to write about my hurt, but writing about my hurt will hurt others because my hurt is in their reactions. Hurt isn't the right word. Disappointment is.

The car is drivable. It is deeper than a scratch, and knowing how expensive it is to repair cars these days will likely cost a couple of thousand dollar since two panels will need to be repaired.

But, the driver took full responsibility and his insurance will pay for it.

I'm out the time to get the car repaired and the hassle of jumping through hoops.

I'm more upset about the reactions from the community. I both want to record what was said because I find writing freeing, and don't want to write because I don't want to spread my hurt to those who said it.

I'm upset enough to rethink a big decision. To put a pause in the future.  

UPDATE: Veronica came back from Ficarro's Collision in Ewing looking better than before. They even cleaned my steering wheel, vacuumed the carpets, and touched up a couple of non-accident related scuffs. 

Halfway Point of 2025

Today marks the halfway point for the year. I spent a few minutes reviewing my goals for the year and mentally thinking through my progress. 

With the exception of writing a book and redoing photo albums, I am on track with most of my goals. My "new to me" country turned out to be Norway, a complete surprise as it was really just an overnight layover between Belgium and the United States. 

I decided to postpone the 10-mile race for another year, mostly because they sold out before I could make up my mind. I did run the 7 km race in Liege, and the 5 miler (8k) in Perth.

We have gotten together with a few couple friends, not as many as once a month, but there is still time to catch up.

Goals I did not anticipate, but are happening include:

1) Attending protests at least once a month.

2) Seriously exploring co-housing

I am shedding my volunteer activities. I still write the monthly newsletter for Alliance Française and dig at Newlin Grist Mill, but stopped volunteering with the Ewing Historical Preservation Society and have not volunteered much with Dress for Success this year. No decisions were intentional, but only what I see happening.

Let's see where the second half of 2025 takes us.