Monday, May 29, 2023
Once the snow passed this morning, we started to get clearer weather. Our beachfront campsite almost looked warm -- but it was an illusion.
That was quite a bit of history and culture to absorb. We worked up a terrific hunger and repaired to a most appropriate spot -- the Anchor Cafe, with the hope of catching some typically Newfie lunch fare. We weren't disappointed.
Kathy scored some battered halibut and fries, while David scarfed down some seafood chowder, mixed fried seafood and home fries. Lots of fried things -- too many for us -- so we took half of the meal home for later indulgence, along with some (obviously it's going to be) yummy Figgy Duff, which David insisted on boxing up for dessert tonight or tomorrow. For those of you reading without benefit of Newfoundland experience, Newfoundland Figgy Duff has nothing to do with figs, dried fresh or otherwise. Raisins are historically referred to as figs in many parts of the province, and this dish can best be described as a steamed pudding with raisins. Just that description is enough to make David drool. More on that later after we taste it.
Our campground host, Todd, recommended that we drop by the local historical bake oven to see the demonstration of the stone bake ovens used by itinerant French (Basque) fishermen as they plied this coast (now known as the French Shore) for fish under agreements with the British Government, which claimed control of Newfoundland during the 19th Century. Port au Choix is one of six locations in Newfoundland, Canada to celebrate their French heritage by building an outdoor bread oven, which is pictured below:
At these demonstration bake ovens, a wood fire is started in the oven at 9:30 in the morning. The ashes are removed before the buns are put in the oven at 2 in the afternoon by interpreters dressed like ladies of the past. As visitors, we were served two hot buns and butter with homemade jams made of local berries such as Squashberry, Partridgeberry and Blueberry, along with a hot beverage (Kathy had hot chocolate). A nominal fee is charged to participate in this taste of history.
After we enjoyed our taste of heritage, the volunteers at the bake oven explained the history of the bake ovens on the French Shore. Our speaker centered her talk on this new mural painted by a local artist, which depicts an incident in the life of one of the ancestors of Port au Choix citizens. While the French fishermen were not allowed to live permanently here, English settlers slowly encroached on the land to compete with the French for the fishing in the area. As it happened, the French employed young boys to do manual labor on the boats and in connection with the fishing industry, and, over time, some of the boys "jumped ship" to hide and remain in Newfoundland as the French fishing fleets returned to France each year.
The story was told of one young boy who survived long enough to tell his story to local historians. His name was Joe Gaslard, born 1887, who jumped ship in 1902, never to return to France. He escaped discovery by hiding in a woodpile, and this mural represents his story, being taken in by an English settler, staying, raising a family and being able to boast (were he alive today) of descendants still living in Port au Choix. The mural depicts him emerging from under a woodpile as the French fishing ship departs:
One cannot overstate the importance of cod (and its failure) to the history of Newfoundland. Salted cod was in demand in Europe the 1800's and 1900's, both as a delicacy and as an economical food for armies. The process of salting cod to preserve it thus became an art, which is still practiced today. Just to prove that it is still enjoyed, our hosts brought out a real salted cod, which Kathy grabbed and examined, eager to understand how she might use it in recipes for fishcakes and chowder:
Thus having learned our fill of cod, we moved on, at our hosts' recommendation, to the French Rooms, an exhibit which focused on the more recent cultural experience of French descendants in the Port au Choix region:
The most gripping exhibit was a half hour video, filmed in the early 1960's about the first of 13 families whose homes were relocated to Port au Choix from other outports due to loss of fishing work. In the film, the family's house is towed across the bay to Port au Choix from their original homesite nearly 30 miles north across the water. The film includes footage of the methods used to float the house and tow it, as well as very touching interviews of members of the family which were conducted while the house was being moved. The mother said they moved because of the loss of work fishing for cod, and the hope of more job opportunities in Port au Choix, as well as the chance for a good education for their 10 (!) children.
We left the French Rooms with a more sober awareness of the difficulties faced by Newfoundlanders over the years. We reached our cozy RV and were about to settle down to write this blog entry, when -- to our astonishment -- a lone young caribou male wandered by the front of our rig:
Young Ruby Cat was awestruck at the sight. She didn't know what to think. Kathy thought, "Yes! First iceberg, red chairs, French bread, first caribou. It's a good day!"
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