Saturday August 15th

We left early to get to Ramea Island as there was a 'Rock Island Music Festival' that weekend there and we wondered if we would find dock space. We trusted our 'dock fairies' to secure us one and headed out through the fog, back through that challenging opening from Grey River out to the sea. The fog was thick again as we made our way across to the island. We sounded our fog horn as we entered into the channel that took us through to the harbour. There was one spot on the government wharf, behind two fishing boats at the end. We would stick out a bit and a small boat was tied at the corner, but it would work, so in we went.

No sooner had we tied on than the parade of visitors began. We were a bit concerned about bopping the little boat tied on the end of the wharf, it's nose right in the side of our rear. One man said he knew the owner, a musician, played accordion. He'd call him to ask him to move the boat back a wee bit. Meanwhile Dave tied our cushion seats on the side so we would not get banged up, and we took Kato for a walk.

Just up the road a hyper dog in a fenced yard went nuts and I swear he was going to jump that fence to get Kato. Poor kitty just froze. Dave picked him up and carried him for a bit, calming him down, but the cars and the people along with dogs barking everywhere was a bit much for him so Dave took him back to the boat as we had decided to have lunch at the restaurant there.

The woman serving us was friendly and kind and we found out there were showers we could use for five dollars plus tax if we came between the hours of 11:30 and 4.
I will not comment on the menu. We found out where the festival was happening. Music was to start right after bingo and they boasted traditional Newfoundland food. That might be good! Dave noticed a man going over to the little boat on our stern and went back over tot he dock while our lunch was being prepared. I saw him talking and shaking hands with two men there and when he returned he said they were the 'Pink' brothers and were playing at the festival on Sunday. 'Really nice guys' he said. Our meal came, and in the words of Thumper the rabbit, 'If you can't say something nice, don't say nuthin at all.'

After lunch, we walked up to the tent over the arena where an intense game of bingo was happening. Tables full of people absorbed in their cards, markers in hand were scattered on the concrete slab. Local firefighters in full uniform served at the bars along one side.

Food was sold on the other side of the arena tent from three cubby-holes; hotdogs, hamburgers and baloney burgers, french fries and onion rings. Traditional Newfoundland food. True, that is what we see in most restaurants. Supper aboard tonight.

We found the grocery store and they had a few things we could use, but they were out of potatoes and did not have any sparkling water or soda water. Just pop. We found carrots, a cabbage and a cauliflower that did not look too bad, and they had cat food! We wouldn't have to feed Kato dog food any more.

Dave took the groceries back as he realized he was over dressed for the weather and needed to change, while I headed to a little outhouse size white shed that housed the community ATM machine and waited in line for my turn. The ferry had been bringing people over all morning and the roads were busy with cars and meandering groups of people. I am guessing this is one of their busiest weekends.

I found a little trail past a billboard that told the story of the settlement, based of course on the fisheries and the entrepreneurs who invested in the fisher-folks. Pretty blue butterflies on the flowers and a small trail that seemed to lead up the hills, but no berries. Dave arrived in a bit of a grumpy mood, lunch was not sitting well for either of us, and after a curt, 'That's not the proper trail'. took off up another hill. He got information at another convenience store and we headed up towards the trail. Earlier he had spied a long set of stairs climbing about 300 feet and thought that was the trail. You could climb up and get a nice view, but the boardwalk was further up the road.

I opted to NOT climb the stairs but to continue to the trail. I had heard that Ramea had the elusive bakeapples and I also thought if I was going to go to a dance tonight, an 8 kilometer hike was enough and I did not need to climb up those stairs. Dave opted for the climb so I went on ahead and after asking directions a few times found my way to the end of the road. I could see three routes that each seemed to lead to a home.

A man was out on his 'bridge' and he asked me if I was looking for the trail. 'Yes I am".

"Right here, pass through here" he pointed, and I could then see the beginning of a boardwalk.
"Aha, this is how you get to meet the visitors; good system making us ask where to go rather than using signs." He laughed, 'That's about it. Lovely day, enjoy your walk."

It was a lovely day. The sun was shining and the sky was blue as I walked along the well maintained boardwalk.To keep it up, people could buy boards and have their names burned into them. Family names, Keeping, Pink, Fudge, and other signatures were written every ten feet or so like waves of 'hello' from the families of Ramea. The boardwalk led over bog lands and I noticed blueberries just coming on along the sides so stopped to pick some. As I continued along I saw, (yes I did!) little orange berries glimmering. BAKEAPPLES!!! True they were at the end of their season, many were over ripe but there were bakeapples.

I tasted my first fresh one and solved a mystery. We could not tell by the taste of the jams and jellies why they were called bakeapples, but fresh, they taste like a tart apple that has been baked until almost caramelized. The texture I found to be strawberry like but Dave says more like raspberry as there is a tiny seed in each. Each flower has from one to five of the berries, either single or like a little cloud, which would be why they are also called 'cloudberries'. Their other name 'bogberry' is obvious. Delicious! I watched for them along the way and found a few here and there. The boardwalk led along the shore and had some spectacular viewing points that begged pictures. Waves crashing along the shore, the sweet smells of the bog plants, sun shining and bakeapples. I was a happy sailor.

Dave caught up with me in a much better mood. It is so important, especially when traveling to be responsible for our personal mental and emotional well being, and important when traveling together to support each other with that too. Sometimes you just need to go for a walk alone to clear the clutter, and Dave knew how to do that. I appreciate that a lot. Whole holidays can be ruined by one person who is unable to manage their moods. I am grateful to travel with someone who knows how to re-balance. Tums help too.

We found a more bakeapples and soon were absorbed in gently poking our way across the bogs to pick the beckoning orange globes. I had foolishly forgotten a bucket for picking, so used my sunglasses case to hold the delicate berries. By the end of the trail the case was full and we had to ignore the berries that still called. 'Walk away' Dave said, 'Don't look'.

We came to the end of the trail and came to a dozen or so windmills at a standstill. This was an experiment to see if a diesel/wind operation would work for outport communities, with diesel supplementing the wind. We know that there are much more efficient wind generator designs available, but in Canada they continue to buy the huge bladed monstrosities that cause so much damage to wildlife. We also noticed that they looked in disrepair, even though they were new structures they showed wear.

Back to the boat with our precious cargo of bakeapples we took a little down time and made a cod supper. I had a nap after dinner and woke in time for the 10:00 fire works which we watched from the back deck before heading over to the dance. The first band was a guitar, bass, accordion and singer on acoustic guitar. There was a drum kit set up but no drummer. Instead they had a drum machine that they had to reset before each song. They played quite a few songs we had never heard about Ramea, as well as old traditional Newfoundland songs and some '70's songs.

A few couples got up to dance and we joined them. As more beer was sold, more people got up dancing and soon we were waltzing around the pot-holed concrete dance floor with twenty or more couples. Sitting back down under the domed tent, I listened to the voices of the couple of hundred people and they suddenly sounded like gannets. "Listen" I said to Dave, "a gannet colony!" He laughed. It did sound just like that, and suddenly the posturing and ducking and darting of the dancers looked like the colony behavior we had witnessed at St. Mary's. I stretched my neck up pointedly and Dave laughed again, "You planing on flying away?"

We waited when they were done their final song to see who was on next and a young singer with a good strong voice and an electric guitar took the sage with his 'back-up band in a box'. As good a voice as he had and as good a guitar player he was, it was a bit disappointing for a music festival to have canned music, even as back-up. But a crowd was up dancing and he got the younger generations up and out. It was a bit loud for our taste, it was late and we were tired so we opted to go back to the boat. We were leaving as people were just arriving and many still up dancing were older than we were, but that was it for us.

Ontario was not well represented in the drinking and dancing that night. Newfoundland had us beat with our three beer between us and leaving the dance just after midnight!