Spent the afternoon up at the Cape: the very northern tip of the Avlon peninsula. The bits and pieces of the old stage that I saw from last year were mostly taken away by Igor. I still believe there is something magical about being at the edge, the limitation of what we think we can see, and the infinity that lies beyond what we can perceive.
Helen Forsey, a writer from Ontario, spends her time between Ontario and NL. She is proof-reading her book while she is here. The book is about the caboose and will be published in the fall.
I remember David Bragg told me that he spent five years up in Cape St. Francis when his father was a lighthouse-keeper and the family stayed at the lighthouse-keeper house. He recalled the times that when the waves were so high that his father would wait for a break of the surf and called out for him to jump across to get to the road. It was a 3 miles walk from the Cape to Pouch Cove.