My Home North of 53

Looking back now, I may have taken it all for granted. I sat there and relished in the roar of the wild; while boreal chickadees called, the constant churning of  headwaters of the Kanariktok spoke an unfamiliar language as the northern winds blew through the stunted black spruce. In the moment I respected, appreciated and allowed myself to become entranced by the lure of the Labrador wild; I felt the pull much greater than ever before. But as I sat on a couch, in a warm building in Nova Scotia, with entertainment and services on demand. 

There was a looming feeling that my life was missing something. There is a constant subconscious yearning that calls me; pulling at my shirt tail as I cross main street. The feeling is apparent when the wind carries south that cold Northern air.  It is the same bitter wind thats has nipped the nose of known and unknown men that attempted to explore the flat, rolling expanse that is the Labrador Peninsula. It carries with it the harsh memories from days gone by; of hardened men who broke in the seemingly never ending craggy landscape.

That wind sent me packing north again, like a salmon returning to their northern waters. Back to the town of Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labrador; the central hub for all things industry east of the once powerful Churchill Falls. The town sits nestled at the head of a large inland sea known as Lake Melville, where the mighty Churchill meets the brackish waters of Goose Bay. I stepped off the plane to that familiar cold, dry air. I waited for my bags as my mind raced at the possibility of exploring Labrador by snow machine. The fruits of ice fishing on Lake Melville or heading in country to gawk at the white rolling Mealy Mountains. I instantly felt at ease, a fullness that can only be compared to seeing an old friend. I like to think that most people have that feeling, like a small bit Labrador continues on within everyone that visits. It is like nowhere I have ever experienced. 

In a sense it is serenity, dotted with small towns that disrupt the still, yet dynamic boreal landscape. Labrador is not just a region, a part of Newfoundland or another world class fishing destination. It is much, much more than that. The culture, history and people of Labrador, which was destined to be part of the french speaking Quebec; has been engrained in Canadian history. Labrador is not just the forgotten sibling of Newfoundland, but a functioning stand alone entity. 

The landscape and peoples are interconnected. While the love and importance of ensuring land stays pristine, it is of understanding that the land is a resource for wise use. Yet, in some ways the land and its resources are taken for granted. Fish and game is over-harvested and household garbage is dumped, polluting the land. It is upsetting to know that though myself and others appreciate the land and all that it offers, sometimes a moment isn't taken to fully appreciate what we experience, though it is not without effort.

 I find it hard to fully understand and take in exactly what being in the wilderness feels like, until I am far away in my home province. Maybe it is just me, but the urge to return is often overwhelming. It overcomes me, forcing me to take action; whether that be flying north, sauntering through Nova Scotian woods or sitting here allowing nostalgia to guide my mind. Something is to be said about being 100 miles from nowhere, and whether it is a sense of secludedness that I thrive on; or the fact that spending time in Labrador allows me to be with like minded people. In a world of opportunities, this place will always allow me to live the life I dream of. 

Photo: Chase and Aimee Bartee



Thanks to all that stopped by to read this blog. It's not much other than a few personal thoughts about a place that I fully embrace as my second home. I hope some of you connect with this post, if you have a similar feelings about Labrador or another special place feel free to comment!