My cloudy Cape Spear

Juste devant moi, le vide. Les falaises acérées, la mer turquoise, blanche puis bleu profond. Au-dessus de moi, les nuages sombres et menaçants d’un ciel enfin couvert, et les gouttelettes légères annonçant la pluie prochaine. Et partout, partout autour de moi, le rugissement des vagues qui frappent le continent, ce continent où nous sommes bien peu de chose lorsque l’on laisse notre regard se perdre là où l’horizon n’a pas de fin. De l’autre côté, l’Europe, puisque le Cap Spear est le point le plus à l’est de l’Amérique du Nord. One of the four corners of the world.

We just had time to climb the moutain, take a look at the lighthouse and breathe deeply over the great big sea that the rain started to pour heavily on our shoulders. Just before the rain, I felt fulfilled. Fulfilled with all the beauty of the coastline, the silence of my thoughts and the eternity of our old blue Earth. I was still on a bright white cloud when we arrived in Petty Harbour, this fishing outport, under the showers. The little boats were floating on the water as if they wanted another ride on the sea just below the narrow. I saw some sailors, but as I am not in Newfoundland as a journalist, I just kept my mouth closed and watched their silent ballet on the shore. Some sailors talking, others working on their boats. I will wait. Wait until I come back and discover Newfoundland. As a whole.

Photo
Geneviève heureuse d’être devant le rien. | Rachel Joncas