The day has come and I’m heading north, way north – in the winter no less! For that I grew a full beard and mustache (which in a complete surprise to me my wife loved!) in anticipation of the cold I was certain to experience while outside photographing. It turned out to be a good move. All the planning for clothes, camera bags, and places to stay is really going to be put to the test over the next two weeks.
It should come as no shock to anyone that my flight was an hour late in taking off. Since this was the first of four legs to get to Newfoundland, I was starting to sweat it. But the pilot must have known a shortcut as we got to Detroit with a little time to spare to make the next connection. No time to eat or drink though – maybe at the next stop in Montreal.
The trip overall was uneventful. Landings equaled take-offs and all was well with the world. However, we must have come into St. Johns (capital of Newfoundland Labrador) on the Avalon Peninsula (eastern-most part of Newfoundland) from the west for, in my subsequent trips, nothing prepared me for what I was to see that early evening. Descending in the growing darkness, we crossed over so many brilliant golden lakes defined by deep black shores as to look like a incredibly rich brocade of geography. It was impossibly beautiful and transcendent. I couldn’t wait until we landed.
We landed. I retrieved my bags and got the rental car and stepped outside for the first time In Newfoundland. My wife has said, “Where you are born is not necessarily where you’re from.” She was right. I felt like for the first time ever I was now home.