The Coast of Labrador
Throughout the night the seas chased us to the south-south-east. Spindrift scudded ahead on thirty-plus mile per hour gusts. Crumbling white wave tops slapped the side of the ship while a gentle roll made for a sound sleep. At first light the winds blew a tear in the gray overhead long enough for fat rainbows to splash on the rocky shore. This morning was to be one with no particular plan, an exploration day. The ragged coast of Labrador is perfect for unplanned activities but we sought shelter from the blustery winds and boisterous seas. Our Expedition Leader and Captain poured over the charts and found a likely site for a landing and ashore we went, in the shelter of Charlotte Harbour. Deep mosses and colorful lichens were under-foot but the welcome surprise was trees! Birch, spruce and larch were in abundance. We were now south of the tree line and even the smells were different. The birdlife was changed, too. Northern gannets, jaegers and passerines became targets for our binoculars. We found ourselves shedding layers as the morning progressed. The blue patches in the sky grew as the morning passed and by noon we were warm of cheek and cheery of heart.
Our afternoon landing was at Battle Harbour. This small, restored settlement was once a booming and thriving community that defined the cod fisheries all along the coast of Labrador. Through several centuries millions of pounds of cod were caught, salted, dried and shipped from these shores. Hundreds of years of exploitation of both fish and fisherman led to the eventual collapse of the industry, leaving tens of thousands without work and little hope for the future. Most of the ‘out ports’, or fishing communities, were forced to relocate to distant and unfamiliar locales during the 1960’s and 70’s, leaving hundreds of abandoned villages along the coast. Our visit ashore was led by guides, many of whom have direct family ties to those who fished these waters just a few short decades ago. Today, Battle Harbour is a ghost town of sorts. But it is one that has a valuable story to tell. The story is one of once abundant resources and riches, of exploitation and hardship and inevitable collapse of the fishery that sustained so many for so long. The legacy of generations of proud and hard working people is archived in sepia photographs and dusty warehouses. The lessons are in the empty nets and idle boats of fishermen everywhere.
Throughout the night the seas chased us to the south-south-east. Spindrift scudded ahead on thirty-plus mile per hour gusts. Crumbling white wave tops slapped the side of the ship while a gentle roll made for a sound sleep. At first light the winds blew a tear in the gray overhead long enough for fat rainbows to splash on the rocky shore. This morning was to be one with no particular plan, an exploration day. The ragged coast of Labrador is perfect for unplanned activities but we sought shelter from the blustery winds and boisterous seas. Our Expedition Leader and Captain poured over the charts and found a likely site for a landing and ashore we went, in the shelter of Charlotte Harbour. Deep mosses and colorful lichens were under-foot but the welcome surprise was trees! Birch, spruce and larch were in abundance. We were now south of the tree line and even the smells were different. The birdlife was changed, too. Northern gannets, jaegers and passerines became targets for our binoculars. We found ourselves shedding layers as the morning progressed. The blue patches in the sky grew as the morning passed and by noon we were warm of cheek and cheery of heart.
Our afternoon landing was at Battle Harbour. This small, restored settlement was once a booming and thriving community that defined the cod fisheries all along the coast of Labrador. Through several centuries millions of pounds of cod were caught, salted, dried and shipped from these shores. Hundreds of years of exploitation of both fish and fisherman led to the eventual collapse of the industry, leaving tens of thousands without work and little hope for the future. Most of the ‘out ports’, or fishing communities, were forced to relocate to distant and unfamiliar locales during the 1960’s and 70’s, leaving hundreds of abandoned villages along the coast. Our visit ashore was led by guides, many of whom have direct family ties to those who fished these waters just a few short decades ago. Today, Battle Harbour is a ghost town of sorts. But it is one that has a valuable story to tell. The story is one of once abundant resources and riches, of exploitation and hardship and inevitable collapse of the fishery that sustained so many for so long. The legacy of generations of proud and hard working people is archived in sepia photographs and dusty warehouses. The lessons are in the empty nets and idle boats of fishermen everywhere.
