The vestiges of another colony
Just when we were getting along so well; my ebook reader quit last evening. Nothing more than a flashing light. Soon. that too was gone. And so with a heavy heart, I went off to the local bookstore and bought a replacement. Smaller, lighter, brighter, more advanced. But, not my version 1.0 that has racked up the miles and epages with me.
We backtracked today. The need to know why there were (multiple) interpretive buildings on the shore site in Ferryland meant that we left our refuge by the TCH and signed up for a guided tour of the Colony of Avalon, given by Veronique (who may be the only student from the colony of Quebec with a summer job on the Rock).
Cobbled streets. Municipal drains. Mysterious gold rings. Avalon has it all. In large part still buried under centuries of windblown infill, the village is slowly giving up its treasures, one trowel at a time.
The visit was informative. I’ll now look at small hillocks with new curiosity. Perhaps that local legend has truth of place and time underneath, if the well at the end of the main street can serve as proof.
And now that we’ve finished phase one of our trek, we’re pretending to be Townies. Yes, my dear, we’re in St. John’s for a few. Maybe I’ll find that low whistle that my music room lacks. Will I uncover new clues to who I am (or might have been, if the ship hadn’t gone aground at East Point, back in 182_) when we visit The Rooms.? And there’s rumour of yet another railway museum at the head of the harbour.
