The drive today up to Red Bay was magnificent - through the big, wide, open land of Labrador. A rocky landscape filled with stunted, weather-beaten fir and spruce and everywhere moss and lichen. A wolf crossed the road in front of us just before we started following the torrential Pinware River. Cecil used the word "wonderfa" to move any adjective into the superlative: the road is wonderfa curvy here, the road is wonderfa straight there, the sky is wonderfa clear today. We passed boat yards on the way - most of the fishing boats are built here. I mentioned to Cecil that I've always dreamed about crossing the Atlantic by boat and that the most difficult leg of that journey, with no ferry service whatsoever, seemed to be the Canada - Greenland stretch. He looked at me slightly surprised and waved at the boats we were passing.
"If you really want to go to Greenland, just talk to those fellows. They're up in Greenland all the time fishing."
Red Bay was the site of a Basque whaling station in the first half of the 16th century, subsequently forgotten and only rediscovered in the 1970s. The marine archaeologists working here had to use special suits filled with warm water - normal dry-suits were not enough.
In the evening, I walked from the B-and-B in L'Anse Amour (original name L'Anse-aux-Mort - Cove of Death) to the nearby lighthouse and was met there by a petite, smiling young woman with striking light aqua eyes. Christine, Francophone from Montréal had decided to spend the summer in L'Anse Amour working for QLF, the Québec Labrador Foundation. When she heard where I was staying she said, we are neighbours. Later on I popped in on her and Lisa (the daughter of Cecil and Rita, living next door to the B&B) and met numerous siblings, plus Dave from Red Bay who had spent some time in Zurich as a postgraduate. We spent the evening sitting and chatting like old friends. At midnight they drove me to the boat in Blanc Sablon and farewelled me, encouraging me to return and visit them again.