These are my memories of the quaint Newfoundland glory days gone by. It was a very hard life in those out ports, but a life romantically cherished by most of those who lived it. Our mother was not feeling up to the trip at the time we were ready to leave, but insisted that my brother and I go on this odyssey. We would later provide her with pictures, a written account, and videotape of the trip. Although we toured other parts of Newfoundland, including an overnight stay on the French Islands of St. Pierre and Miquilon, just off the south coast of Newfoundland, our main objective was to visit Irelands Eye. This necessitated finding water transportation. We managed to arrange for a boat to take us on the half hour trip to the island. As it turned out, the married couple who ferried us over to the island was actually a couple of our distant cousins, whom we had never met.
We had intended to have our cousins drop us off on the island and pick us up a few hours later. However, either because we were newly found cousins, or they were typically hospitable Newfoundlanders, or they thought that my brother and I would get lost, they wanted to stay with us. Probably all three factors influenced their decision. They were absolutely fabulous.
They got caught up in what my brother and I were trying to do. They were very knowledgeable about the island and the people who had once lived there. Clutching a narrative of the island, written by another of our cousins, the forgotten history of that special place became more coherent to the four of us.
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