King's Point & Grand Falls-Windsor

We were all hitched up in Deer Lake on the evening of August 4^th ready to head to Kings Point. To our great surprise the next morning the engine would not start. There was only the clicking of the starter. Glenn tried “CPR”, but the results were the same—NOTHING. Julian, with his volt meter, administered last rites. Several fellow caravanners offered to stay with us, but what we really needed was a new battery. After many calls, we finally found a large truck service center that informed us that there was no battery in town that would fit our Toyota Tundra. However, they located one in Corner Brook about 35 miles away. Once the new battery arrived, it was a different size, so the bracket had to be modified. After all of that, we had to pick up two new trailer tires at another dealership. That took another hour. We were finally on the road to tiny King’s Point by 4:00 p.m. and made it to our destination in time for the group dinner at the fire station. It was a huge “Newfie” feast with lots of carbs. Following dinner was a lady stand-up comic, who was well padded and made up to look like a scary old woman floozy. She involved many of us in her act—sometimes to our embarrassment. The next evening we were introduced to the comic, Judy, without her guise, and we were all shocked to see that she was a trim, beautiful woman about 45 years old.

Our campground was at the fire house, and we had no electricity, cell service, or water for four nights. However, the volunteer firemen and ladies kept us well-fed and entertained every day. They were a friendly lot, and they had many hugs to offer. We were probably the biggest thing to hit the small community of King’s Point all summer long. One evening they served a mussels dinner along with moose burgers. Another night they provided a huge firepot along with hotdogs and marshmallows for roasting.

We, Lloyd and Elaine, and one other couple attended services on Sunday at the Salvation Army Church.That evening most of us opened our rigs to the locals, who came in mass to see what Airstreams look like on the inside.

We visited a local whale museum and pottery shop, where the owner demonstrated her unique skills. At the whale museum we learned that approximately 2000 whales make their way each summer to Newfoundland from their home in the Caribbean. A calf will drink as much as much as 100 gallons of its mother's milk each day. By the time they finally reach Newfoundland, the mother will have lost from six to eight tons of weight. Herring and krill beware! Big Mama will be very hungry. We also visited quaint Harry’s Harbour and the town of La Scie, located several miles away over rough roads. At Fleur-de-lys was a soapstone quarry that we wanted to visit. Expecting a huge dugout area, we were amused to find that the quarry consisted only of some large rocks with one big “sculptured” wall. The Dorsets used soapstone to make their food vessels from 500 B.C. to 500 A.D.

The best thing about King’s Point was the sweet, friendly people that make up this tightly knit community, especially the firehouse gang. Most of the men in town work in the logging industry. There is only one service station. Not to be forgotten was Mrs. Tom’s General Store with it’s wood-burning stove in nearby Rattling Brook and a small museum that captures much of the town history. When ordering pea soup at one of the two local restaurants, we smiled when the soup was orange and white due to its ingredients of carrots, turnips, and potatoes. There were no peas.

Our final treat at the fire station was a huge send-off breakfast on the morning of the 9^th. During the four days we were there, we grew quite close to the town’s people. It was rather sad to say goodbye to them, knowing that we probably will not ever return. The caravan moved on eastward toward our next stop, Grand Falls-Windsor. We were delighted to arrive at a lovely campground with full hookups. Hooray! Our cell phones were working again as was our Wi-Fi.

Sunshine was scarce in Grand Falls-Windsor, and we received our share of rain. Temperatures hovered in the fifties. We did enjoy the Logging Museum, where we toured a reconstructed early 1900s logging camp. At one point 11 percent of all Newfoundland men worked under harsh conditions in the camps. Each man had to cut at least a cord of wood each day, six days per week. By the time they paid the company for their rations and bunkhouse accommodations, there was little left to take home to their families after months of hard work. The women suffered too, as they had to take care of the children and sometimes cut firewood just to survive. Without government subsistence they could not have survived. Many of the families had 15 or more children.

Another museum that was more upscale was the Mary March Museum. Mary was a Beothuk Indian whose real name was Demasduit. The photo at right is from a painting of her. Soon after delivering a baby in 1819 she was captured by early English settlers. Her husband tried to rescue her, and in the process was shot to death. The baby died a few days later, and Mary was taken to St. Johns. After she contracted tuberculosis in 1820 the English decided to return her to her people. However, she died aboard ship, and her body was left on the shore of her native land. Nine years later, her niece, Shanawdithit, the last of the Beothuks died. This tribe became extinct after 1000 years of existence on this land due to fact that they contracted European diseases, and the English took over their hunting and fishing areas. The museum is picturesque and well organized. It depicts what happens when different cultures collide.