With a greater clarity

of the knowledge of the area,

we walked from the church

a little farther inland 

to what used to be

the post office and

the school that our mother attended,

the skeletal shells of

which were still standing precariously.

From there, stopping periodically

to eat some edible berries,

we struggled behind our cousins

through the heavily brush and

shrub covered footpaths to

Black Duck Cove to visit

the cemetery where our grandmother,

whom we never knew, was buried.

This sacred ground was

in very bad condition,

with many badly corroded gravestones

buried under brush and long grass.

After searching for a few minutes

in the midst of tangled vegetation,

we found our grandmother's

resting place beside which

we paid our respects.

It was a good thing that

our cousins stayed with us,

as the footpaths that traversed

the island, were overgrown with brush.

It would have been

virtually impossible for my brother

and me, to walk to

the other communities on the island.

We made our way back

to the church on the hill

and descended to the boat

for a half hour boat ride

to the other side of the island.

Sailing through a number of islets,

we arrived at what

remains of the small village

of Traytown, where our grandparents

had lived. There, we met

some more long lost relatives

at a small cottage.

One, a bit of an eccentric,

who now lives in Toronto

but takes summer refuge in Traytown,

showed us the remnants of what

had once been our grandparents'house.

Beside these ruins, was

the still flourishing cluster

of wild rose bushes, planted

there many years ago

by our step grandmother.

A lot of people, many whom

were more lost cousins,

continually dropped in or

gathered on the porch outside.

After a cup of tea and

some more chitchat (small talk)

and some comic relief,

we made our departure

for the mainland. On the way,

we passed other inlets with

ghost communities on Ireland's Eye.

To add to the excitement

of that special day,

my brother spotted a humpback

whale quite close, between

the boat and the island.

Our visit to Ireland's Eye

was a bittersweet experience for us.

On the one hand, there was

a sense of being at

the very place where our relatives

and ancestors had lived,

worked and played.

On the other hand, there was

a sense of agonizing loss

of what were once thriving

communities on the island.

It was difficult to reconcile

the past with the present,

after a gap of fifty years

of chronic degeneration of

the communities. Today, the area

is notorious for smuggling.

However, our mission was invaluable

in that we were able to

find out more about ourselves.

The entire expedition to

Newfoundland was a major highlight

in each of our lives.

It tugged at our emotions

at every turn. The people

of Newfoundland, especially those

of genetic connection, couldn't do

enough for us. It was

really like coming home,

but then, that has always been

the nature of Newfoundland courtesy,

even to non-Newfoundlanders.

It was reassuring to see that

the Newfoundland charm has

transcended time. It has

endured so many changes

since Confederation in 1949.

My brother and I, eternally,

will be Newfoundlanders and hope

to go down home more often

in the years to come.