Grave Encounters in Wild Places Story and photos by Bob Henderson Summer 2002 Issue George Rossiter, our local guide from Ramea, is an obliging man. He took me at my word when I exclaimed, “I can’t get enough of these rustic gravestones on barren knolls in wild places.” Our family was exploring the Newfoundland coast from Burgeo (where the road first met the coastal harbour in 1979), east to Francois (still boat access only). Cliffs line much of the shore, and pullouts are few and far between. At each choice pullout spot, whether we were stopping for lunch or just a quick stretch, George would point to a prominent knoll or trail into the forest. Following his guidance, I would invariably find an old grave – sometimes several. It was fascinating. Sure, a grave marks a passing of a life, but it is also a landmark, and a touchstone for the curious, linking us to times past. And what places these pullouts were! Take the local picnic spot of Nor’West Brook, for example, which we at first thought was Norris Brook, given our shortcomings with the dialect. Here, we scrambled up the open rock 70 to 100 metres (230–330 feet), and it seemed that at each new plateau, we found a fresh water swimming hole. “Places such as these must shape your psyche in inspiring ways,” I remember saying as I gazed across the White Bear fiord, which is 30 km (19 mi.) long. Our Newfoundland friends just smiled from the boat below. Doing things the local way With its ruggedly haunting shoreline and the roll-in, roll-out fog, the archipelago is not known for easy camping by sea kayak, so we had opted to do things the local way. We joined organizer Bob Vlug of Eastern Outdoors, and guides George and Owen Rossiter for a week of local exploration by sea kayak and semi-retired fishing boat. Each evening, we’d return to Ramea where we stayed in one of Bob’s three houses in town. We became known to everyone in town quickly. Ramea is a town of just 600 people, and we were the only people walking to the wharf in rubber skirts each day! Travelling with three kids and a local host doesn’t hurt either. Our activities were dictated by the weather. Cod fishing, puffin watching, clam digging, “up country” hiking, figgy duff eating, and — much to my delight — graveyard exploration, were all on our agenda. And with a bit of reading and lots of help from George and other Ramea folks, I was able to piece together the stories of many of the places we visited. We spent most of our time on the sea, since it was the sea, first and foremost, that shaped life in this new-found-land. As far back as 1497 when JohnCabot reached the Grand Banks, the island was known as Baccalaos, Portuguese for land of cod. One 1516 commentator wrote that the cod “even stayed [stopped] the passage” of his ship. In 1597, Englishman Charles Leigh reported a catch of 250 cod in one hour off Magdalen Island, near Ramea. By the 1620s, there were over 1,000 vessels coming to the Newfoundland banks for a summer and winter catch, using baited hooks and hand lines. This is the same basic jigging technique used today. Graves of fisher folk Many of the old grave sites that captured my interest belonged to fisher folk. Today, they are remote, rugged places that look more like campsites than former settlements. At Deer Island, we found seven graves within a fallen, rotting picket fence. They lay in a new forest tucked back on an open peninsula, and belonged to three families: the Crewes, Domineys and Rossiters who lived through the second half of the 1800s and knew the times of plenty. At Fox Island, graves dated from the 1920s and at Harbour Island within sight of Ramea, we found a 1846 grave of a man who had lived a long life. Born in the 1770s, he too must have known times when the fishing was good. Depleting the cod mines Farley Mowat’s 1980's book, “Sea of Slaughter,” chronicles more recent history since the 1880s, as the “cod mines” were depleted and the fishery was in decline. George Rossiter’s father, who lived mostly out of Harbour Island, knew the history first-hand. Following the World War II, scarcity led to increased demand which meant higher prices, and in turn led to more competition and increased harvests. The bottom line, for the cod, was more destructive scouring of the ocean bed. In the 1890s, Ramea schooners had transported salted cod to Europe, the Indies and Brazil. A century later, in 1992, the century-old fish plant closed. It marked the end of an era. Ramea Ramea had been settled — if sparsely — as early as 1822. “In the evening we reached the Ramea Islands,” wrote William Cormack, the first known European to walk across Newfoundland. “There are only two resident families here...” William Cormack’s tale is certainly another story, but some time after his return to Europe, an English immigration firm brought settlers, and by 1857, there were over 100 people. In 1874, given Ramea’s superior harbour and quick sea access, John Penny and Sons established a salt cod plant that later added a refrigerated fresh-fillet plant. When the plant closed in 1992, the town’s population dropped from a high of 1,600 people to about 600. The 1992 grade 12 graduating class had 30 students. The 2000 graduating class numbered only 13, but the new school, rebuilt four years after a 1993 fire, is a proud symbol of the outpost community’s survival. Stories in every knoll and ridge line The town’s history holds hundreds of individual stories, and the landscape hints tantalizingly at them in the names of every knoll and ridge line, every lake and stream. George filled the map and landscape with place names and stories — so many that I filled a very messy map in my journal with names such as Big Pond, Pigs Head, Spirit Brook, Jane’s Hill and the Middle Country Path. Most intriguing was the Old Country Path, which George suggested had been the main east/west walking route since the time of the Beothuk, the once indigenous people of Newfoundland. I became almost dizzy trying to take it all in. The graves we visited marked the passage of people who gave these places their names. Each settlement — the kayak pullouts of today — had a cobblestone beach and/or sheltered cove with a substantial clearing. The population of the community seemed to be determined by the space available. Fishing, hunting and trapping stories dominated, but stories of resettlement were equally intriguing. At the time Newfoundland joined confederation in 1949, 1,200 settlements were peppered along nearly 10,000 km (6,200 mi.) of shoreline. Joey Smallwood’s 1950's vision for Newfoundland was to move people from outpost communities to growth centres. Deer Island, Harbour Island and Fox Island were all outposts. Ramea and Burgeo were area growth centres. Today, over 300 former communities exist only as choice (and rare) camping sites. At these old places, with a keen eye or with George’s active memory, visitors can find flattened gravestones, rutted cart-tracks and the odd cabin foundation. Many homes were moved to Ramea on ice pans. Ten families used to live on Harbour Island. As we explored the site with George, he pointed across the channel and said, “That was the last house to be here. It’s over there now, moved twenty years ago on the ice.” A haunted cove Fox Harbour Island, though, truly captured my imagination. My partner Kathleen and I had paddled into this amphitheatre of cliff walls surrounding the small island, and later, we paddled in for a shore lunch of stewed cod, made of fish the kids had caught. A local story tells of a rock slide that destroyed a small vessel in this cove one night. As the story goes, at times you can still see the lights of the ship against the cliff wall. The Fox Island graves were on the hill tops — exposed, beautiful, haunting. What lives were lived here? I was happy to get just a glimpse. Heritage is important on the beautiful coast, but so is moving forward with the times. Ramea, for example, is exploring a new venture to reopen part of the fish plant to fish the bottom feeder, hag fish. The Koreans are interested. As well, the fact that our family was there at all bespeaks the launching of ecotourism. The potential is great. The shoreline and fiords of Ramea are stunning, reminiscent of the much more remote northern Labrador. Kayakers are enthusiastic. A family sea kayak trip within the Grey River fiord alone offers over 50 km (30 mi.) of shoreline with easy hiking out of beach campsites. Rock climbers we know, who climbed in the Francois area to the east of Ramea, returned home glowing. Burgeo’s archipelago, estuary and Sandbanks Park also invite intense exploration, perhaps with Ramea as a base. Despite the appeal of a self-sufficient, remote camping trip, people also shape our travel experience — and the people of Newfoundland are not to be missed! The folks of Ramea treated our family well. It was summer festival, so we enjoyed Ladies Auxiliary dinners and live music up at the outdoor hockey rink — not to mention jigs dinner (thanks, Martha and Clyde) and of course, cod fishing (thanks Owen). And there was good chatting to be had seemingly anytime down by the dock. There are good one-time trips — wonderful trips that build strong memories, but you will likely never return. Then there are trips that become a part of you, sending shivers under the skin. You vow to return. For our family, Ramea will be a repeat event. Thanks to Bob Vlug, Malcolm Brett, George and Owen Rossiter and Greg Hilliar. Bob Henderson, the KANAWA heritage specialist, teaches Outdoor Education at McMaster University. Email him at bhender@mcmaster.ca.

Copyright © 2006 Paddle Canada Pagaie Canada
Formerly the Canadian Recreational Canoeing Association