Some Marnin S'marnin!
Someone said that to me this morning.
It struck me as one of those things that locals, even those whose accents aren't quite as untouched by mainland North America, can always understand. But might be confusing to outsiders. It just means
it's a beautiful morning!
And it was.
I went to Quidi Vidi (Kwhy-da Vye-da) to hike the trail to Logy Bay (Low-Gy Bay).
It was gorgeous.
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The first glance back toward the city from the trail isn't an attractive one. The new Department of National Defense building is in the foreground. And Confederation Building, our equivalent of a State Capital, is in the background. We only joined Canada in 1949, so that's why it's such a modern building. Looks like a high school. They're in the process of replacing the green panels and clear windows with blue panels and blue-tinted windows.
Funny story: I had no idea what that Department of National Defense building was while it was under construction. I assumed it was an old age home and then noticed the giant, wrought-iron fences all around it. I thought, "Dear God, that's a lot of security just for old folks."
It's not often that the North Atlantic outside St. John's Harbour is calm. Someone was canoeing in St. John's Bay (just outside the harbour) today. Normally, such a boat would be smashed against the rocks in minutes.
The East Coast Trail runs the entire length of the Avalon Peninsula, and links with the T'Railway to offers thousands of kilometres of hiking/biking paths. It's really quite nice - but it's not landscaped to a high standard. Tourists accidentally kill themselves sometimes. Locals usually managed to only end up severely injured.
A view back toward St. John's from higher up the hill. Southcott Hall is the red building near the centre. I always called in the Flyswatter growing up.
It's a big ocean. I'm not sure I'd be on it in a little boat.
The fishing village of Quidi Vidi, just minutes from the Downtown of St. John's behind that hill.
Welcome, tourists!
A view toward Old St. John's from the trail. That hideous building (it's obvious which one) is The Rooms, our archive. It's made to resemble traditional fishing rooms, where fishermen stored their gear. There's a cafe on the top floor that I have a picture of later on... so you can see this line of sight from both ends.
They're not committing suicide. The entrance to Quidi Vidi Harbour (known locally as Quidi Vidi Gut) is narrow, but it's right there.
The seagulls were preparing to go out to sea for food.
Our modest little skyline poking up behind Signal Hill.
The Roman Catholic Basilica of St. John the Baptist.
This isn't a trail for people prone to vertigo.
More tourists, c'mon b'ys!
Look how artistic I am:
I don't recall seeing the ocean this calm in years.
Now, away from the zoom lens and back to the regular one, to give you an accurate idea of what hiking the trail is actually like.
This thing shakes when you step on it. That's fun.
There were lots of butterflies (a friend calls them flutterbys, makes so much more sense), dragonflies, and birds. We don't get a lot of mosquitoes or flies here, though, which is nice.
I don't fucking think so. You'd need to pretty well be world famous and incredibly skilled to use the bike trails up here. For me, it'd be instant death.
Lots of snacks to be had along the way.
Watch your step.
FINALLY back down at the bottom of the trail in the fishing village of Quidi Vidi.
And then, on my way home, I stopped at The Rooms to take a few pictures in the opposite direction. The hill we just hiked to the top of is the one on the upper left horizon in this shot.
If you look closely at the upper right horizon line, you can see a hint of the wooden staircase from the trail pictures above.
Looking out from The Rooms through the Narrows.
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