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ON BOARD THE MV CARIBOU IN PASSAGE TO NEWFOUNDLAND

All visitors to the island of Newfoundland, 96 nautical miles off the coast of northeastern Nova Scotia, have one thing in common, they either traveled together in a plane or a ship. That is, because short of a submarine, those are the only two ways to get there.

We chose the latter, a ship and a big one at that. You don’t take a 16,000 lb RV and truck anywhere by air. To board the ferry the fare is based on the length of your vehicle and no amount of persuading could convince the dock worker that we were only 25 ft. We actually were just short of 16.76400 meters according to our boarding pass. After paying our $340 one way passage fare, the clerk at the entrance gate teasingly remarked, “Come back and see us some time.” Yeah right, either we would become permanent residents of Newfoundland or he knew he would be seeing us again.

The MV Caribou, a 27,000 ton, 5 deck high ferry, over 585 feet long and 85 ft wide, with a 1200 passenger capacity is an impressive sight. It is the largest ice breaking class ferry in North America. Its facilities include a cafeteria, seating lounges, video arcade, children’s playroom, bar lounge, video lounge and gift shop. All this with a crew of 114 to make your trip a “delightful travel experience” according to the brochure.

As we waited in line at the ferry dock for the 6 hour passage to the Island, the MV Caribou approached with its massive blue front bay doors already open like some giant, prehistoric, sea monster seemingly capable of swallowing the entire city of North Sidney, our point of departure. We sat in a light rain as row after row of semis, trucks, cars and other RVs disappeared into the bowels of the boat. Finally it was our turn, and with propane tanks closed and knuckles white, we drove our home up the ramp.

We had the option of renting a sleeping berth for the crossing but with no portholes and ship board bed linen, I knew that Sara would not get a wink and that meant neither would I. Besides $99 for a night berth cabin and $16 for a dormitory sleeper, what ever that was and it didn’t sound good, didn’t seem worth the price.

Charlie, our 10 month, black Schnoodle puppy had two travel options, according to the ferry authority, to ride in the hole of the ferry in the RV for six hours with no chance of an occasional body check by us or to take up residence in the ship’s kennel with a promise of repeated visits by us. He opted for the kennel, which while clean, with its utilitarian décor of stainless steel cages, was no match for any meager comfort that his personal blankey and favorite stuffed toy, Brown Monkey, could bring. In fact, Tan Monkey, Lambie, Chickie, Squeeky, two chew sticks and his dog bone wouldn’t have done it, and we left him howling in agony as we proceeded to the passenger deck. Had Charlie known that according to Marine Atlantic regulations, the ship’s pursuer was required to lock the door to the kennel shortly after our departure with no chance of it being opened until we docked at Port aux Basque, the intensity of his reaction would have been more pronounced if that was possible.

We took our seats at mid ship. It was a perfect day for sailing with blue skies, calm seas and a setting sun which made the necessity for sea sickness barf bag dispensers every six feet along the deck seem somewhat unnecessary. Did they know something we didn’t?

Sara and I both went out onto the outside deck to watch the sun set and the green landscape of Nova Scotia disappear, a truly beautiful sight, if not somewhat tempered by the occasional perceived howling of our little dog. No amount of persuasion available, possibly short of death groans, a sound Charlie is fully capable of, but mysteriously refused to use, was going to open the kennel door.

The MV Caribou offers on voyage movies, whose PG plus ratings excluded attendance by all but passengers in deep sleep or the families on board. There is a gift shop of ridiculously priced souvenirs, including what was billed as a Newfie china hutch, paper plates in a small orange crate for $14; a Newfie back scratcher, beer caps nailed onto a stick for $12; and a Newfie fly swatter, which was the plastic beer holder rings for a six pack attached to a handle for $9. We skipped the souvenirs.

The cafeteria was a bit heavy on grease but did offer Jello and a carrot stick plate for the calorie conscious and French fries covered in thick, brown gravy for those for whom calories were no object. We saw a lot more fries being served than Jello and carrots and were glad we had packed some healthy snacks.

The one saving grace was a local band that played two sets in the liquor lounge just across from us, and they were quite good. Most passages have local folk bands entertaining and with song titles like: Seven Old Women Got Caught in A Lavatory, The Male Bonding Song and When Father Papered the Parlour, how could they go wrong. Below are samples of the lyrics of some of the bands. Can you match the lyrics to the song?


Soon Dad fell down the stairs and dropp'd his paperhanger's can
On little Henrietta sitting there with her young man;
The paste stuck them together, as we thought t'would be for life,
We had to fetch the parson in to make them man and wife.


Oh we all go running naked through the trees,
As naked as a jaybird if you please;
Oh we throw off all our wrappings,
And with private parts a-flapping,
We all go running naked through the trees.

The fifth to come in, it was old Mrs. Draper,
She sat herself down and then found there was no paper;
She had to clean up with a plasterer's scraper,
And nobody knew she was there.


For we are men, and proud to be men,
We bond every Saturday at three;
And we flaunt with great pretension,
Those long penile extensions,
As we all go running naked through the trees.

The next to come in was dear Mrs. Mason,
The stalls were all full so she peed in the basin;
And that is the water that I washed my face in,
And nobody knew she was there.

The pattern was 'Blue Roses' with its leaves red, white, and brown,
He'd stuck it wrong way up, and now we all walk upside down;
And when he trimm'd the edging off the paper with the shears,
The cat got underneath it, and Dad cut off both its ears.


The band made the trip to Port aux Basque seem shorter than six hours as did the still available light at 10 PM. We could still see the outline of the city as we approached the dock in the surreal twilight, but we were soon brought back to reality when we went to pick up Charlie in the kennel. Charlie is the only dog we have ever owned, and we have had seven, who is truly schizophrenic. When he is acting like a loving little puppy, he is called Charlie. And when is a crazed monster, we refer to him as Lucie-Fur. Can you guess which one he was? A scratching, wiggling, howling mass of fur acting as if he had just spent the last 10 months of his life in a Russian gulag.

We returned to our RV and waited our turn to drive off the ferry our six week Newfoundland adventure and our had was about to begin. We had driven 2000 miles from the Midwest to get here and we were anxious.