Friendly Conche
Our journey up Bide Arm is only four miles so we don’t leave Englee wharf until after our hike and my walk back to the Municipal Building to purchase the hooked mat. When I return, Harald has the boat turned, bow facing out, to make our departure easier in this narrow channel. The wharf worker who assisted him, told him they do this often with the big longliners that also cannot make the turn under engine.
We depart, dodging bergy bits that have now floated into the area near all the fishing nets in the harbour. Four of the area’s fishing boats are just ahead. I pass them and then head down the long, narrow channel, just 1/2 a nautical mile wide at its widest.
The wind is coming from behind us and there are whitecaps. The town of Bide Arm is at the top of the channel but it does not look accessible for us today. We head south again, just a mile and a half to the noted anchorage on the west shore. It is just a bight but is sheltered from the south wind when we arrive at 3:30. I look forward to the peace of an anchorage after the busy Englee wharf, so not getting into Bide Arm is okay with me.
I would have liked to have seen Ashton House, though. This building is part of the Great Northern Peninsula Heritage Network. It was built in 1952 at Little Harbour Deep, 39 miles from here. In 1965 it was moved, over the water, 25 miles to Hooping Harbour and then moved again four years later to Bide Arm.
The community of Hooping Harbour was resettled under the government’s community consolidation program in 1969. One hundred and eighty-six of the 215 residents resettled and founded the community of Bide Arm. (From Newfoundland Labrador tourism brochure) Over the winter the men of Hooping Harbour cut the logs which became the rafts used to transport the houses to Bide Arm. This was a common practise here in Newfoundland - to move houses, on wooden floats, not much bigger than the house, and then towed by fishing boats to their new locations.
It is now accessible by car, as is its sister community, Roddickton, supposedly the moose capital of the world with an average of six moose per square kilometre. Maybe another time.
We lounge in the cockpit, tired after our long morning walk and keep our eyes on the shore for any signs of wildlife. In just a few moments I don’t have to look any further than the water around us. There are about a dozen bright orange and red jelly fish swimming beside and under the boat. They are as large as a dinner plate and as small as two inches. They swim sideways so I can see their long tentacles below and then they sit flat so I can see their colourful “faces”. Following them and videotaping kills an hour.
The kingfisher on shore is diving for his supper which reminds me we should probably have something too. It’s an easy night. Nachos loaded with our dehydrated ground beef and the usual toppings.
I wake early and wander out to the foredeck. A large otter is running along the shore, grabbing breakfast and running into the trees along side. Back and forth. Must have a brood. The jelly fish aren’t up yet but I do hear a loon in the distance. Back to the warm bed for a little longer and then I get up and make smoothies before we head back south again toward Englee.
The fishing boats are out, probably since 5:30 when we usually hear them leave the dock. One looks quite loaded down and is heading back to shore. The capelin fishery ends on Sunday so they will all be trying to get their 35,000 pounds for the day.
Rounding Cape Daumalen and heading north, it isn’t long before whale spouts are visible between us and the shore. Too far for decent footage but we watch and know there are many whales along this coast. Friend Bob commented on orcas, humpbacks, minkes and dolphins when he passed by here just yesterday.
We are heading to Conche, just another 13 nautical miles and a familiar harbour. Last year’s visit was mostly in the rain but we did take in a very good hike, saw the site of the airplane crash from 1942 and marvelled at the 220 foot tapestry in the French Shore Interpretation Centre.
It is expected to rain here this weekend, too so our plans are not as aggressive.
The anchorage at the head of the bay is filled with ice, including two very large bergs. We expected to see ice here as there has been much talk on social media about the massive slab that filled the harbour just a week ago. It has now broken up but is lodged in the basin where we would have anchored.
I swing us around the wharf to find a spot large enough for Seabiscuit, in the shelter from the north wind. Two gentlemen drop their box of fish and come to take our lines. They just got some fresh cod for lunch and offer us one, along with an invitation to go fishing with them tomorrow. We politely accept the fish but decline the invite to go with them in the morning.
It isn’t raining today, though, and as activity and noise starts to build on the wharf, we decide we need to go for a walk.
Our first stop is the fish plant where we heard we could buy crab. It is boxed in 30 pound portions and they cannot break a box for our one pound request. We cannot take photos but are intrigued by the operation. There are thirty people standing along the conveyor where the capelin is pouring in from “somewhere”. We expect they are sorting the males from the females and packing. It is noisy and wet. We don’t stay long but carry on to the Ocean Mart grocery store.
Daisy is working and greets us like an old friend. We pick up a few things and sit in the small “cafe” area in the back, indulging in soft serve and a bit of wifi.
Continuing on along the shore we see the familiar sights of salt box houses, stages and shore views. The lilacs are just blooming. Everyone waves as they pass in their trucks and ATVs. They don’t know us. It’s just the thing to do.
Our plan is to walk to the top of the bay to see the ice bergs up close. Along the way we stop at Casey’s Store. Built in 1904 as a salt fish store and twine loft, along with numerous stages. The Casey family was one of the first settler families in Conche. Their wharf, stage, store and flakes are now part of the French Shore Historical Society.
(At the head of a small wharf sits a stage: an elevated platform holding sheds and tables. This is where the fish would be brought for processing - salting and drying or “making fish”. The store would be one of the buildings on the stage. The flakes are structures built above the ground and used for drying the fish in the sun after it was split and flattened.)
The ice berg and its bits are now very close and a wonderful photo opportunity. A few cars line the side of the road; tourists taking it all in, too.
Soon we see some people sitting in their front yard and waving for us to come over. We realize it is the men who took our lines this morning, members of the Foley family. There is a large family gathering of about twenty people. We meet the four siblings, their father, their spouses and seven grandchildren. Beverages are offered and the conversation gets lively.
Two hours later, filled with fresh cod cakes, homemade pickle and drinks, we say our good-byes and extend our thanks for such a “time”, as they say here. The hugs and wishes for a safe journey make us feel like part of the family. Total strangers just a few hours ago.
Our steps are light as we make the walk back around the bay and to the boat. Supper isn’t needed so the fresh cod goes in the freezer for another day.