newfoundlandfolkways:


Harry the Stonecarver

Harry Brite is an Inuk man who was born in Hopedale, Labrador but raised in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. During his younger years Harry worked as a fisherman and boat pilot, traveling all around the island working and adventuring. Nowadays he mostly stays in St. John’s, where he is a familiar face in the downtown area: “I’m always around. I’m here and there all the time, you’ll see me.” Many who do see him walking around town don’t realize his talents as a stone carver. Harry only started carving about 12 years ago, taking it up after watching someone else. He uses pyrophyllite stone for his carvings, and basic tools such as a hacksaw and a selection of files. Harry always notes the richness of color in the stone he chooses, as well as the different markings the stone has to offer. As an artist, he is concerned with how he executes form, while keeping his carvings focused on personal interpretations of iconic images and animals of the north. These include whales, whale tails, inukshuks and what he refers to as “hoods.” His hood carvings depict the faces of women, with winter hoods covering their heads.
The images above show Harry posing with some recent carvings from this past summer, as well as how the stone looks at the beginning stages of his work.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


Harry the Stonecarver

Harry Brite is an Inuk man who was born in Hopedale, Labrador but raised in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. During his younger years Harry worked as a fisherman and boat pilot, traveling all around the island working and adventuring. Nowadays he mostly stays in St. John’s, where he is a familiar face in the downtown area: “I’m always around. I’m here and there all the time, you’ll see me.” Many who do see him walking around town don’t realize his talents as a stone carver. Harry only started carving about 12 years ago, taking it up after watching someone else. He uses pyrophyllite stone for his carvings, and basic tools such as a hacksaw and a selection of files. Harry always notes the richness of color in the stone he chooses, as well as the different markings the stone has to offer. As an artist, he is concerned with how he executes form, while keeping his carvings focused on personal interpretations of iconic images and animals of the north. These include whales, whale tails, inukshuks and what he refers to as “hoods.” His hood carvings depict the faces of women, with winter hoods covering their heads.
The images above show Harry posing with some recent carvings from this past summer, as well as how the stone looks at the beginning stages of his work.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


Harry the Stonecarver

Harry Brite is an Inuk man who was born in Hopedale, Labrador but raised in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. During his younger years Harry worked as a fisherman and boat pilot, traveling all around the island working and adventuring. Nowadays he mostly stays in St. John’s, where he is a familiar face in the downtown area: “I’m always around. I’m here and there all the time, you’ll see me.” Many who do see him walking around town don’t realize his talents as a stone carver. Harry only started carving about 12 years ago, taking it up after watching someone else. He uses pyrophyllite stone for his carvings, and basic tools such as a hacksaw and a selection of files. Harry always notes the richness of color in the stone he chooses, as well as the different markings the stone has to offer. As an artist, he is concerned with how he executes form, while keeping his carvings focused on personal interpretations of iconic images and animals of the north. These include whales, whale tails, inukshuks and what he refers to as “hoods.” His hood carvings depict the faces of women, with winter hoods covering their heads.
The images above show Harry posing with some recent carvings from this past summer, as well as how the stone looks at the beginning stages of his work.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


Harry the Stonecarver

Harry Brite is an Inuk man who was born in Hopedale, Labrador but raised in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. During his younger years Harry worked as a fisherman and boat pilot, traveling all around the island working and adventuring. Nowadays he mostly stays in St. John’s, where he is a familiar face in the downtown area: “I’m always around. I’m here and there all the time, you’ll see me.” Many who do see him walking around town don’t realize his talents as a stone carver. Harry only started carving about 12 years ago, taking it up after watching someone else. He uses pyrophyllite stone for his carvings, and basic tools such as a hacksaw and a selection of files. Harry always notes the richness of color in the stone he chooses, as well as the different markings the stone has to offer. As an artist, he is concerned with how he executes form, while keeping his carvings focused on personal interpretations of iconic images and animals of the north. These include whales, whale tails, inukshuks and what he refers to as “hoods.” His hood carvings depict the faces of women, with winter hoods covering their heads.
The images above show Harry posing with some recent carvings from this past summer, as well as how the stone looks at the beginning stages of his work.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson

newfoundlandfolkways:

Harry the Stonecarver

Harry Brite is an Inuk man who was born in Hopedale, Labrador but raised in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. During his younger years Harry worked as a fisherman and boat pilot, traveling all around the island working and adventuring. Nowadays he mostly stays in St. John’s, where he is a familiar face in the downtown area: “I’m always around. I’m here and there all the time, you’ll see me.” Many who do see him walking around town don’t realize his talents as a stone carver. Harry only started carving about 12 years ago, taking it up after watching someone else. He uses pyrophyllite stone for his carvings, and basic tools such as a hacksaw and a selection of files. Harry always notes the richness of color in the stone he chooses, as well as the different markings the stone has to offer. As an artist, he is concerned with how he executes form, while keeping his carvings focused on personal interpretations of iconic images and animals of the north. These include whales, whale tails, inukshuks and what he refers to as “hoods.” His hood carvings depict the faces of women, with winter hoods covering their heads.

The images above show Harry posing with some recent carvings from this past summer, as well as how the stone looks at the beginning stages of his work.

Contributed by L. Wilson

newfoundlandfolkways:

The Irish Heart of Newfoundland (1991)

Here is a wonderful video made by a group of women of the Cape Shore, assisted by Bruce Gilbert and Fred Campbell, and sponsored by Cape Shore Area Development Association.

He stopped the car about twenty times and he’d get out and look all over the country and he’d say to me: “This is God’s country. God Almighty owns this country.”

newfoundlandfolkways:


The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.
—
Contributed by L. Wilson

newfoundlandfolkways:

The Wood Piles of Woody Point

Though many aspects of the outport lifestyle have seen drastic change over the past few decades, some traditions have stayed intact out of necessity. Homes without central heating are common in the outports, particularly as you head north on the island. Because of this, families still rely on their trusted wood burning stoves. For these residents, harvesting local wood is a must every summer, into fall. The wood piles around Woody Point in Gros Morne National Park inform us that cooler weather is on its way. It is a great deal of work, and in this photoset we see a few different stages of that process.

Contributed by L. Wilson

DECORATED STORES:

Woody Point, Gros Morne National Park, NL

newfoundlandfolkways:


Squid Jigging Grounds

A striking set of photos documenting a group of men jigging for squid off the shores of Carbonear, Conception Bay, in 1960.
Photography by Chris Lund (1923-1983), a celebrated still photographer whose work was preserved in the National Film Board’s Still Photography Division - a vast collection of Canadian photography now shared by Library and Archives Canada and the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography.
newfoundlandfolkways:


Squid Jigging Grounds

A striking set of photos documenting a group of men jigging for squid off the shores of Carbonear, Conception Bay, in 1960.
Photography by Chris Lund (1923-1983), a celebrated still photographer whose work was preserved in the National Film Board’s Still Photography Division - a vast collection of Canadian photography now shared by Library and Archives Canada and the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography.
newfoundlandfolkways:


Squid Jigging Grounds

A striking set of photos documenting a group of men jigging for squid off the shores of Carbonear, Conception Bay, in 1960.
Photography by Chris Lund (1923-1983), a celebrated still photographer whose work was preserved in the National Film Board’s Still Photography Division - a vast collection of Canadian photography now shared by Library and Archives Canada and the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography.
newfoundlandfolkways:


Squid Jigging Grounds

A striking set of photos documenting a group of men jigging for squid off the shores of Carbonear, Conception Bay, in 1960.
Photography by Chris Lund (1923-1983), a celebrated still photographer whose work was preserved in the National Film Board’s Still Photography Division - a vast collection of Canadian photography now shared by Library and Archives Canada and the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography.

newfoundlandfolkways:

Squid Jigging Grounds

A striking set of photos documenting a group of men jigging for squid off the shores of Carbonear, Conception Bay, in 1960.

Photography by Chris Lund (1923-1983), a celebrated still photographer whose work was preserved in the National Film Board’s Still Photography Division - a vast collection of Canadian photography now shared by Library and Archives Canada and the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography.

newfoundlandfolkways:

The Convicts of Newfoundland

Centuries after Newfoundland was settled as a fishery, islands a world away were being settled as European penal colonies. In the late 1700s, the lands of Australia (known first as New Holland, later as New South Wales) and Tasmania (settled as Van Diemen’s Land) went through tumultuous times as penal colonies and “free provinces” were settled - primarily at the hands of the English.

During the height of convict shipment in the 1800s, Newfoundland was already primarily an Irish Catholic population, so it is no wonder there are records of its residents being sent down under to serve time. These residents would have been tried and convicted in Ireland (or even England). Two young brothers in particular, Lawrence and Thomas Baldwin, were convicted of separate thefts and shipped to the colonies on the Java and Hero, in 1833 and 1835 respectively, along with hundreds of other men and women. Other incarcerated Newfoundlanders include John Woods (Southworth, 1822), John Watson (Prince Regent I, 1824), and Edward Shaw (Nautilus, 1840).

Further, the transportation of convicts created larger problems for Newfoundland in July 1789 when a ship of Irish prisoners destined for Botany Bay (Australia) instead landed in Bay Bulls after provisions ran out and a contagious fever was rampant. The prisoners made their way into St. John’s, where most of the males were kept in a makeshift plantation-style prison. After the “jail fever” spread and took the lives of over 200 inhabitants, and after violent incidents such as attempted arson (with the intention of burning down the town), the residents of St. John’s were in fear and looked to authorities for a solution. Though it took months, the majority of remaining prisoners were sent back to England, then finally to Ireland. This event can be considered the beginning of a series of reforms to the judiciary system in Newfoundland, though the powers that be considered the handling of the situation a success.

There exists a database of all Irish convicts who were shipped to New South Wales from 1788 to 1849. For each prisoner, it lists their name and their ship, hometown, date of birth, and their crimes.

For a detailed account of the events of July 1789, see here.

Contributed by Justin Oakey

ART OF SUMMER:
Secret Swims, Gross Morne National Park, Bonne Bay, Newfoundland

newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King
newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King
newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King
newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King
newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King
newfoundlandfolkways:


King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.
The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)
—
Photos and text by John King

newfoundlandfolkways:

King’s Cove, Newfoundland

Saints Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. This is another tiny Bonavista Peninsula community (pop. 121 in 2006) with a large and beautiful church built by volunteers.

The inscription on the plaque reads: “Father Sinnott in 1815 was the first priest to take charge of the King’s Cove Parish which extended at that time from Fortune Harbour to Heart’s Content - a coastline of 500 miles. He built the first church in 1825. Father Wm Veitch became parish priest in 1875 and established a number of schools and churches in his parish. His first big work in church construction was the present church whose construction began in 1884. The old one built in 1825 had become too small for the increased congregation. The new church was built over the old one and was completed by free labour of the parishioners between Knight’s Cove and Keels inclusive. They traveled every day of the week to King’s Cove in relays of ten whose names were called from the altar each Sunday. The people were cheerfully responsive to these calls and in two years the church was finished. The parish today extends from Tickle Cove to Keels.” (Plaque erected by King’s Cove Historical Society)

Photos and text by John King

ghostof:

garage door by willywilson. on Flickr.

Remembering how it was and the kinds of tracks we had to make to lead us out. 

(via todomeaburre)

newfoundlandfolkways:

Celebrating Caplin
Late spring of each year, residents see caplin (or capelin, to non-Newfoundlanders) rolling onto the shores. Large, dense schools move close to the beaches for spawning (first males, then females), while avoiding the pods of whales migrating down the coast, but are quickly met with people and their nets. During this season, certain beaches are known to turn silver with the fish as they roll themselves in the waves, right up onto the rocks. They are considered a reliable and important local food source that can be eaten fresh (fried or baked), frozen, or salted and dried for use throughout the year. Freshly pickled fish can be dried lying on a flake, hanging on pins in a board, or hung up like laundry (as seen above). Though less common among younger generations and tourists, the females’ bright orange roe (eggs) can be harvested easily, and is exceptionally delicious directly from the fish, or lightly salted and kept. Further, for some communities the caplin (along with kelp) are traditionally collected and used to enrich soil - as a fertilizer - for homestead gardens.Similar to smelt, the traditional way to eat the fish is whole as the innards and head become delicious when cooked or dried, and the bones are soft and edible.The photos in this set were taken in late June, 2014 at Middle Cove beach - a popular location to fill your boots.
—
Contributed by Lisa Wilson and Justin Oakey
newfoundlandfolkways:

Celebrating Caplin
Late spring of each year, residents see caplin (or capelin, to non-Newfoundlanders) rolling onto the shores. Large, dense schools move close to the beaches for spawning (first males, then females), while avoiding the pods of whales migrating down the coast, but are quickly met with people and their nets. During this season, certain beaches are known to turn silver with the fish as they roll themselves in the waves, right up onto the rocks. They are considered a reliable and important local food source that can be eaten fresh (fried or baked), frozen, or salted and dried for use throughout the year. Freshly pickled fish can be dried lying on a flake, hanging on pins in a board, or hung up like laundry (as seen above). Though less common among younger generations and tourists, the females’ bright orange roe (eggs) can be harvested easily, and is exceptionally delicious directly from the fish, or lightly salted and kept. Further, for some communities the caplin (along with kelp) are traditionally collected and used to enrich soil - as a fertilizer - for homestead gardens.Similar to smelt, the traditional way to eat the fish is whole as the innards and head become delicious when cooked or dried, and the bones are soft and edible.The photos in this set were taken in late June, 2014 at Middle Cove beach - a popular location to fill your boots.
—
Contributed by Lisa Wilson and Justin Oakey
newfoundlandfolkways:

Celebrating Caplin
Late spring of each year, residents see caplin (or capelin, to non-Newfoundlanders) rolling onto the shores. Large, dense schools move close to the beaches for spawning (first males, then females), while avoiding the pods of whales migrating down the coast, but are quickly met with people and their nets. During this season, certain beaches are known to turn silver with the fish as they roll themselves in the waves, right up onto the rocks. They are considered a reliable and important local food source that can be eaten fresh (fried or baked), frozen, or salted and dried for use throughout the year. Freshly pickled fish can be dried lying on a flake, hanging on pins in a board, or hung up like laundry (as seen above). Though less common among younger generations and tourists, the females’ bright orange roe (eggs) can be harvested easily, and is exceptionally delicious directly from the fish, or lightly salted and kept. Further, for some communities the caplin (along with kelp) are traditionally collected and used to enrich soil - as a fertilizer - for homestead gardens.Similar to smelt, the traditional way to eat the fish is whole as the innards and head become delicious when cooked or dried, and the bones are soft and edible.The photos in this set were taken in late June, 2014 at Middle Cove beach - a popular location to fill your boots.
—
Contributed by Lisa Wilson and Justin Oakey
newfoundlandfolkways:

Celebrating Caplin
Late spring of each year, residents see caplin (or capelin, to non-Newfoundlanders) rolling onto the shores. Large, dense schools move close to the beaches for spawning (first males, then females), while avoiding the pods of whales migrating down the coast, but are quickly met with people and their nets. During this season, certain beaches are known to turn silver with the fish as they roll themselves in the waves, right up onto the rocks. They are considered a reliable and important local food source that can be eaten fresh (fried or baked), frozen, or salted and dried for use throughout the year. Freshly pickled fish can be dried lying on a flake, hanging on pins in a board, or hung up like laundry (as seen above). Though less common among younger generations and tourists, the females’ bright orange roe (eggs) can be harvested easily, and is exceptionally delicious directly from the fish, or lightly salted and kept. Further, for some communities the caplin (along with kelp) are traditionally collected and used to enrich soil - as a fertilizer - for homestead gardens.Similar to smelt, the traditional way to eat the fish is whole as the innards and head become delicious when cooked or dried, and the bones are soft and edible.The photos in this set were taken in late June, 2014 at Middle Cove beach - a popular location to fill your boots.
—
Contributed by Lisa Wilson and Justin Oakey

newfoundlandfolkways:

Celebrating Caplin

Late spring of each year, residents see caplin (or capelin, to non-Newfoundlanders) rolling onto the shores. Large, dense schools move close to the beaches for spawning (first males, then females), while avoiding the pods of whales migrating down the coast, but are quickly met with people and their nets.

During this season, certain beaches are known to turn silver with the fish as they roll themselves in the waves, right up onto the rocks. They are considered a reliable and important local food source that can be eaten fresh (fried or baked), frozen, or salted and dried for use throughout the year. Freshly pickled fish can be dried lying on a flake, hanging on pins in a board, or hung up like laundry (as seen above). Though less common among younger generations and tourists, the females’ bright orange roe (eggs) can be harvested easily, and is exceptionally delicious directly from the fish, or lightly salted and kept. Further, for some communities the caplin (along with kelp) are traditionally collected and used to enrich soil - as a fertilizer - for homestead gardens.

Similar to smelt, the traditional way to eat the fish is whole as the innards and head become delicious when cooked or dried, and the bones are soft and edible.

The photos in this set were taken in late June, 2014 at Middle Cove beach - a popular location to fill your boots.

Contributed by Lisa Wilson and Justin Oakey

Just in time : Headed to Cape Spear early in the day to see what all this fuss was about an iceberg being grounded there. The fog had just went out and there she was, in all her mass and glory. I took a few shots from the tripod, had taken the camera off to get a few people shots and then I heard some cracking and banking, then SPLASH. She was breaking up. I swung around and managed to get this one shot hand held. I was hoping she’d roll, but no luck. Just a few car size pieces breaking off. #canada #collapse #iceberg #ocean #atlantic #newfoundland less (via Daily Dozen for June 25, 2014 — Photos — National Geographic Your Shot)

(via humulus)

misttemple:

fall wander, spring wander
misttemple:

fall wander, spring wander

misttemple:

fall wander, spring wander

misttemple:

morning pattern
misttemple:

morning pattern
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Streetcars of Old St. John’s

From 1900 to 1948, the citizens of St. John’s enjoyed an efficient, well-loved streetcar system. It was powered entirely by hydroelectricity generated in Petty Harbour, located just 13 kilometres away.1 The line began at the Railway Crossroads on the west end of Water Street, ran eastward to Holloway Street, continued along Duckworth Street, looped past the Newfoundland Hotel and turned onto Military Road, where it eventually descended along Queen’s Road and made its way back to the Railway Crossroads.
Numerous residents were apprehensive about the startling new system. Dire prophecies were made, and many worried about how their horses would take to the machinery. On the first day of operations, hundreds of people rode their horses alongside the trams. Though dozens of horses “reared and bucked and finally bolted like wild things,” it was eventually determined that horses and streetcars could peaceably co-exist. Everyone enjoyed free rides on the first day of operations, and as became customary, the conductors insisted on filling their cars to the brim, “even if it meant getting up from their seats and pushing the customers down the aisles themselves. … By cajoling and good-natured threats, the conductors got them all in. The car would then creak along the street with its springs sagging against its axles.”
Though the streetcars did emit a rather piercing sound, it became a very popular system. On the St. John’s streetcar, you could mingle (in sardine-like quarters) with people you wouldn’t ordinarily encounter. Some people ran out to the conductors to ask for favours along the line. They asked the conductors to deliver packages, mail letters, and even pick up a scattered item from the hardware store. By all accounts, the good-natured conductors did exactly this.
Initially, the street car system depended on a snow shovelling crew to keep the line running, but by the 1930s, a snow sweeper car was brought in to clear the line of snow. Reportedly, this marvelous machine “did an excellent job of keeping the lines open during the worst winter storms.”
The streetcar system was dismantled in 1948. Geoff Stirling bought the streetcars themselves, and sold them off as summer cabins and work sheds.
References:
The Street Cars of Old St. John’s: A Photo History (1989) by William Connors
Remarkable Stories of Newfoundland (2009) by Jack Fitzgerald
Note:
1. In fact, most of St. John’s was powered by this highly localized source, and shortages of rain could cause power outages. In the summer of 1908, The Evening Herald remarked particularly on the effects this had on downtown operations. Silent film showings were disrupted, the streetcars came to a rest, and shopkeepers contended with the power outage by “locating customer’s desires by candlelight.” When the rains came (it can’t have been long), light was restored once again.
Photos are of a streetcar at Rawlins Cross and a streetcar shelter, both from the Geography Collection on MUN’s DAI.
—
Contributed by Andrea McGuire
newfoundlandfolkways:


The Streetcars of Old St. John’s

From 1900 to 1948, the citizens of St. John’s enjoyed an efficient, well-loved streetcar system. It was powered entirely by hydroelectricity generated in Petty Harbour, located just 13 kilometres away.1 The line began at the Railway Crossroads on the west end of Water Street, ran eastward to Holloway Street, continued along Duckworth Street, looped past the Newfoundland Hotel and turned onto Military Road, where it eventually descended along Queen’s Road and made its way back to the Railway Crossroads.
Numerous residents were apprehensive about the startling new system. Dire prophecies were made, and many worried about how their horses would take to the machinery. On the first day of operations, hundreds of people rode their horses alongside the trams. Though dozens of horses “reared and bucked and finally bolted like wild things,” it was eventually determined that horses and streetcars could peaceably co-exist. Everyone enjoyed free rides on the first day of operations, and as became customary, the conductors insisted on filling their cars to the brim, “even if it meant getting up from their seats and pushing the customers down the aisles themselves. … By cajoling and good-natured threats, the conductors got them all in. The car would then creak along the street with its springs sagging against its axles.”
Though the streetcars did emit a rather piercing sound, it became a very popular system. On the St. John’s streetcar, you could mingle (in sardine-like quarters) with people you wouldn’t ordinarily encounter. Some people ran out to the conductors to ask for favours along the line. They asked the conductors to deliver packages, mail letters, and even pick up a scattered item from the hardware store. By all accounts, the good-natured conductors did exactly this.
Initially, the street car system depended on a snow shovelling crew to keep the line running, but by the 1930s, a snow sweeper car was brought in to clear the line of snow. Reportedly, this marvelous machine “did an excellent job of keeping the lines open during the worst winter storms.”
The streetcar system was dismantled in 1948. Geoff Stirling bought the streetcars themselves, and sold them off as summer cabins and work sheds.
References:
The Street Cars of Old St. John’s: A Photo History (1989) by William Connors
Remarkable Stories of Newfoundland (2009) by Jack Fitzgerald
Note:
1. In fact, most of St. John’s was powered by this highly localized source, and shortages of rain could cause power outages. In the summer of 1908, The Evening Herald remarked particularly on the effects this had on downtown operations. Silent film showings were disrupted, the streetcars came to a rest, and shopkeepers contended with the power outage by “locating customer’s desires by candlelight.” When the rains came (it can’t have been long), light was restored once again.
Photos are of a streetcar at Rawlins Cross and a streetcar shelter, both from the Geography Collection on MUN’s DAI.
—
Contributed by Andrea McGuire

newfoundlandfolkways:

The Streetcars of Old St. John’s

From 1900 to 1948, the citizens of St. John’s enjoyed an efficient, well-loved streetcar system. It was powered entirely by hydroelectricity generated in Petty Harbour, located just 13 kilometres away.1 The line began at the Railway Crossroads on the west end of Water Street, ran eastward to Holloway Street, continued along Duckworth Street, looped past the Newfoundland Hotel and turned onto Military Road, where it eventually descended along Queen’s Road and made its way back to the Railway Crossroads.

Numerous residents were apprehensive about the startling new system. Dire prophecies were made, and many worried about how their horses would take to the machinery. On the first day of operations, hundreds of people rode their horses alongside the trams. Though dozens of horses “reared and bucked and finally bolted like wild things,” it was eventually determined that horses and streetcars could peaceably co-exist. Everyone enjoyed free rides on the first day of operations, and as became customary, the conductors insisted on filling their cars to the brim, “even if it meant getting up from their seats and pushing the customers down the aisles themselves. … By cajoling and good-natured threats, the conductors got them all in. The car would then creak along the street with its springs sagging against its axles.”

Though the streetcars did emit a rather piercing sound, it became a very popular system. On the St. John’s streetcar, you could mingle (in sardine-like quarters) with people you wouldn’t ordinarily encounter. Some people ran out to the conductors to ask for favours along the line. They asked the conductors to deliver packages, mail letters, and even pick up a scattered item from the hardware store. By all accounts, the good-natured conductors did exactly this.

Initially, the street car system depended on a snow shovelling crew to keep the line running, but by the 1930s, a snow sweeper car was brought in to clear the line of snow. Reportedly, this marvelous machine “did an excellent job of keeping the lines open during the worst winter storms.”

The streetcar system was dismantled in 1948. Geoff Stirling bought the streetcars themselves, and sold them off as summer cabins and work sheds.

References:

The Street Cars of Old St. John’s: A Photo History (1989) by William Connors

Remarkable Stories of Newfoundland (2009) by Jack Fitzgerald

Note:

1. In fact, most of St. John’s was powered by this highly localized source, and shortages of rain could cause power outages. In the summer of 1908, The Evening Herald remarked particularly on the effects this had on downtown operations. Silent film showings were disrupted, the streetcars came to a rest, and shopkeepers contended with the power outage by “locating customer’s desires by candlelight.” When the rains came (it can’t have been long), light was restored once again.

Photos are of a streetcar at Rawlins Cross and a streetcar shelter, both from the Geography Collection on MUN’s DAI.

Contributed by Andrea McGuire