Standing on the wharf next to Skipper Jim's, Sharon is awaiting the arrival of our two friends.

Come On In

Keith and Donna are joining in with four other like-minded folk, who are heading out into Gillot Cove in search of icebergs.

As soon as this complicated looking knot is unravelled, the Galactic Mariner and her passengers will shove off.

All Aboard

Now it is time for us to get our day in gear.

As our friends disappeared around the point, Sharon and I settled for a bit of sightseeing.

I did consider for a brief moment, of venturing out past the far shed, just to see what there is to see.

Holes are purposely punched into sheds, called stages, so the fishermen can bring their boats along side, at high tide of coarse, and throw their catch of the day inside for cleaning.

This stage is not serving the purpose for which it was intended any longer.

I am not sure a cat would feel safe walking the length of this wharf.
I did however walk out onto this platform, and it felt surprisingly steady.

On our way back from Slipper Jim's, Sharon and I drove out to Ragged Point.

We turned into a nondescript pull-off area across from this century old house, and meandered a short distance out to the point.

This Old House

The owner who was born and raised in this old house, like two generations before him, has built another home next door.

This house is closed up now, but it would've been an experience to have taken a nostalgic look-see through the rooms.

Looking out from Ragged Point.

In order for a chunk of ice to be classified as an iceberg, it must be larger than sixteen feet across.

A bergy bit is less than sixteen feet.

A growler is smaller than a bergy bit, and is similar in size to a grand piano.

Some of the larger icebergs that float into shallower waters plough trenches into the ocean bottom, eventually anchoring themselves. Their fate is now sealed, and they will remain stationary until they dissolve.

The landscape that stretches across Ragged Point is for the most part populated with ground-hugging vegetation, such as you saw in the previous photo.

But obviously not all plants adhere to the "lets lay low" attitude when it comes to surviving the constant winds that blow in from the cool Atlantic waters.

The wild iris is found throughout this small plateau, growing in clusters of small communities, or going it alone such as this individual.

A local resident stops for a chat, and gave Sharon a brief history lesson of what Ragged Point is all about.

Chatting with Donna and Keith earlier on, Sharon and I learned of Mel the retired fisherman. So on our way home Sharon and I stopped in to see Mel, in hopes of catching a "fish tale" or two.

Mel spoke passionately about his large collection of souvenirs that he has collected from people he has met over the years.
His pen collection for instance, has accumulated from visitors leaving them behind as souvenirs, or folks who have met Mel and mailed him a pen when they returned back to their homeland.

It appears Mel has had his share of run-ins with the law.

Lots and lots of pens.

And of course no fisherman would be worth his salt if he didn't have a "fish tale" or two.

Mel demonstrates how he tossed a fish net during capelin rolling in 2001.

Check out the picture Mel and Sharon are holding in the previous photograph.

You know...I'm not quite certain what this net is used to fish for.

Once the capelin are caught, they are emptied from the net.

A crab pot for catching crabs. I am told this could also be a lobster trap.
So one could also call this a crustacean trap I guess.

That Was a Wonderful Visit

If you are ever in Mel's neighbourhood, stop by for a chat. He'll be glad to share a story or two.


THE END