Safe Travels

Every decision involves risk. And when you decide to travel to Newfoundland in May, there's a risk the weather may not be that great. So you plan around the risk and make the most of what's on offer, which can still put you on the edge of peril.

That said, the only danger in the Railroad Costal Museum was that we might actually learn something, which we did. I am now certain that but for constant infusions of cash from several governments, Newfoundland would be permanently populated only by seals and puffins. This is no place to sustain an economy. 

The Newman Wine Vaults were dangerous for tall people. Bruce knocked his head at least once.  

The Duke of Duckworth, a favourite among locals, presented the risk of the wait person who sold us that last half pint of Guinness that we really didn't need.

Happily stuffed on truly awesome pub food (the fish and chips changed my life) and half pickled on Guinness, we ventured out for some drunk shopping.

Bruce got a beautiful hand-knit wool sweater. I got a rock painted like a house.

After that, the only dangerous thing to do was to get home. We flew on WestJet 549 which left St. John's at 7:30 p.m. The pilot promised a smooth flight, which it was, until just before landing. A pocket of turbulence knocked the plane just seconds before touchdown, which put the plane off level. I'm pretty sure we landed on one wheel, bounced, wobbled the other way, bounced again on the other wheel and then repeated that before the pilot levelled us off and the woman in the window seat next to me finally released my arm. 

She apologized and said something about being afraid of flying. I reassured her there was no harm done and that any landing you can walk away from is a good one. 

The rough landing was the worst I've ever experienced. I wondered whether it was truly bad or only seemed that way. I thought I'd ask the pilot, who, usually on WestJet flights, stands at the cockpit door as passengers disembark saying "goodbye" and "thanks."

Except this time there was no beaming pilot to bid me farewell and answer questions. The cockpit door was closed and there was only the cabin steward to say good bye.

I guess it was truly bad.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Fewer seals; more people: commemorating 15 years of slaughter.