Newfoundland Hospitality
Rose Blanche, NFLD
July 11-13, 2026
"Oh ho! I sees yer still here, and after 9am now!"
I knew it. We had told Les - he who minds the dock and he who has served us many beers in the last day and a half - we had planned to leave "not before 9am." Popping our heads up through the companionway at 9:05 and he was right there with a shit-eating grin and ready to razz us.
Les, 71 years old and born in Rose Blanche, worked as a merchant mariner for 40 years on Lake Superior and now minds the dock in between fishing and causing any manner of trouble - the fun kind. Les caught our lines when we docked two days prior and promptly invited us over to his shed for a beer. We have been rabble rousing with him ever since. That first day, sitting in the shed (really a man-cave) with its Labatt Blue flag out front, "Come in Boy" sign on the door, and the antique paraphernalia that one collects when one has a spot to put it, we had our first experience with Newfoundland hospitality.
After completing our docking chores we took Les up on his offer of a beer and headed over to his shed on the wharf, beers in hand. We enjoyed two beers and an afternoon of conversation with him and Todd - a local fisherman who is 70 and looks 55 - chatting about the area's history, fishing, sailing, and everything else. At some point Les hands us 4 filets of frozen mackerel from his packed to the gills chest freezer and sends us off to supper. Protesting does nothing to dissuade him from the gift so we switch to gratitude, thrilled to have fish for supper.
We were waylaid on our 20 meter walk to Sea Fire, chatting with Bert and Francois of SV Kokoum who we met in Port aux Basques. They had just arrived and we spent some time musing on the beauty of the area, the spectacular sailing on the way to Rose Blanche, and our plans for the next few days. We say they should join us at the shed for a beer this evening (bring your own of course), and they give a non-committal answer. Heading over to Sea Fire to make supper we see Les coming towards us. He gives us heck for not having supper yet saying he was going to take us to the other wharf to fish if we liked. Can't turn down an offer like that! We beg for an hour to eat and then would be ready to go.
The mackerel had thawed so we fry it with onions, lemon and butter, then serve it on rice. Even having been frozen I still consider it fresh, and it certainly tastes so. If there wasn't an urgency to fish before there certainly is now with that taste in our mouths. Delicious.
We walk over to the shed with rod and bucket in hand, ready to go. Into the truck we go and over to the other wharf. Rods were readied and Jean and Les both catch a mackerel in the first few minutes. Into the bucket they went, and then the bucket fell over and the two fish flopped around on the ground. Jean and I each grab one around their middles but their slippery bodies popped right out of our hands, like a banana out of a banana peel in the cartoons. Some laughter and another try or two and they are both back in the bucket, our hands covered in fish scales. I wipe the slime on my pants, regretting it instantly as clothes aren't easy to wash on the boat, but it is what it is. 5 minutes later the fish slime dries and we brush the fish scales off our hands and pants. It flakes off in a shimmery cloud as if it had never been there.
Back to the rods and Les brings in a pollock. It is a big one, two feet if it was an inch and thats no fish tale. No sooner had he lands it, he throws it back in, saying "those fish are disgusting." Nothing else was caught that evening so back to the truck we go. Before heading back to the wharf Les takes us on a drive of the area, showing us the Rose Blanche Lighthouse, and neighboring areas of Culotte Cove, Diamond Cove, and a few others. Beautiful areas with little communities much like Rose Blanche. Jean asks where all the trees were, to which Les says, "Trees?? No trees around here. Only ROCKS. F$*king ROCKS everywhere." It becomes a running joke.
Back to the shed we go.
Les shows us how to clean the mackerel and supervises our work, then serves us a Labatt Blue and we continue visiting. As we get to know each other (and the beer loosens us up), we become more and more familiar, and good natured ribbing peppers the conversation. Jean tosses his bottle cap into the garbage - basketball style - and when he misses his shot Les says there is no future for him with the Toronto Raptors. Les tells a story of mooning a nosy neighbor when he was young and Jean comments that if he had showed his front side he may have gotten some action. Back and forth, stories and conversation and many laughs. Two hours and two beers later we stumble back to the boat with plans to connect with Les at 1pm the next afternoon to drive to the store in Burnt Harbour.
Bert and Francois of SV Kokoum didn't join us, and I remember something about a sports game on TV that Francois mentioned. I find myself judging them for choosing sports over connection, saying so to Jean, but try to remind myself that not everyone has the same goals for travel that I do. They can spend their vacation how they wish and we will do the same, and I will try not to be salty about it.
The morning is sunny and warm and has us hiking to the lighthouse. A restored relic from the 1800's, someone took a lot of care in making it up as it would have been, complete with dining sets and bedding. The walk is lovely with great views of the town and it is good to get some exercise.
After lunch and a nap we head over to the shed at 1:05pm. We told Les we had expected him to be standing at the boat at 1:01pm and calling out "Come on you lazy f*^kers!" A joke f
rom the day before. Laughs all around as we pile into the truck, heading off to the Burnt Harbour general/grocery/liquor store/post office. Les talks about the various places as we drive, all the while honking at people he knows and leaning out the window to squawk at them.
He stops beside one car and the woman says with a smile, "you thinks you owns the road does ye?!" Les responds, "I knows I does!" More laughter and off we go. At the general store we pick up a few groceries and a case of Labatt Blue for Les - hoping it's one way we can show our appreciation.
On the way back to Rose Blanche Jean asks about his family and Les tells of his sister who died at 16 in a car crash. We are driving by the site of the accident at that very moment. We express our condolences, saying she was taken too soon. He agrees, but then says that all we can do is take what life gives us, and although he wishes it was otherwise, that's how it is.
Such an expression of grief mixed with acceptance was unexpected, and a reminder that regret doesn't do much good. Learn from things and move on.
Back at the shed we end up having another two beers, during which Les gives us 4 cod filets from his morning catch, 30 cod tongues (Jean had been wanting to try them), and later on handing us two squid jigs (for fishing squid) when we asked about squid fishing in the area. Along with the jigs was a lesson about catching them - of course. His friend Leroy comes over and we are all visiting when Jean mentions he hadn't been able to find a pail of salt beef at the store. The day before he had gotten tips for cooking the pails of beef, and at the mention of not finding any Les has Leroy go to his house and grab a pail of salt beef and a chunk of pork fat, giving it to us. It seems like any mention of a gap in fridge or freezer is provided immediately, with no hearing of protestations.
Back to Sea Fire we go for the afternoon, me to cook biscuits and Jean for a nap, then it is time to cook the cod tounges. As per Leroy's instructions we dredge them in flour with salt and pepper (we added lemon pepper and old bay seasoning), then fry them in pork fat. Prior to cooking they feel stiff with cartiledge, but 5 minutes later they are golden brown and crispy with soft middles that resembled oysters. No fish taste whatsoever but the texture takes me a minute to get past until I compare them to oysters, then it is all good. New things sometimes take me a minute to get my head wrapped around. We drizzle them with lemon juice, rice and salad on the side.
It is a beautiful sunny evening and we sat outside drinking water (not beer) and reading a book, expecting a quiet night and keeping an eye out for Les so we can gift him some biscuits and settle up on docking fees. Eventually he and Leroy wander over, and I go out to meet them, handing over the biscuits and cash for docking fees with a little bit extra for the Labatt Blue fund. We all stand around, enjoying a slow chat and Jean invites the by's over for a whiskey. They decline, but 10 minutes later Les says he's up for it. We all clamber on board and Les goes inside for a tour with Jean while Leroy and I visit in the cockpit. Leroy's accent is thick and it takes a lot of concentration to converse. I imagine that over the next few weeks we will get more proficient in the Newfoundland dialect.
We all visit for awhile until we hear a boat approaching. All ears perk up. With very little happening day to day, anything is worth notice. We all turn our eyes to the two boats approaching while Les and Leroy start musing as to where the boats are from. There are 4 in each boat and they are laughing and hollering, obviously partying.
"Bur'it 'arbour ye think?" (Burnt Harbour is a nearby town).
"Could be," Leroy answers Les' speculation.
A cheerful voice cries out across the harbour, "Come on you mother fu*kers!!!" echoing betweeen the cliffs.
Leroy and Les' tone changes to one of amused certainty,
"Bur'it 'arbour for sure, that's Milton." We all climb off Sea Fire and stand on the dock, unashamedly staring at the docking boat. Les exchanges a few good-natured yells with one woman, simultaneously telling us gossip about the group under his breath. Milton, the yeller, comes over to say hello, asking about our boat. Les invites him to go take a tour and he climbs on board and I yell a heads-up to Jean (down below) that he has a visitor coming. He and Milton start looking at charts and Jean marks honey holes (safe places to wait out storms) on Navionics, a navigation software we use.
Shortly after, the boats are yelling for Milton, wanting to get home before dark as navigating the rocks is best done in daylight. As fast as they came, they were gone, leaving Les, Leroy, Jean and myself in the quiet of the harbour once again. The wind has changed to the southwest "oh that so' west is no good," the dreaded southwest wind that brings ugly weather has been dominating conversation today, and the air has chilled. We bid the by's goodnight and say we will see them in the morning.
"Yes my son and me maid," Les replies. We say that we won't be leaving before 9am and hope to see them before we go. "9 o-clock?? I'll have 'ad 7 beers before that!"
And now the morning sun is glorious and I climb off Sea Fire to the wharf (thankfully the tide is high so I can almost just step off the boat) and bid him good morning. Les tells me we forgot to collect our food from his freezer and I follow him over to the shed, saying, "but don't think you can talk me into another beer this morning ya rascal!" He laughs, commenting that he didn't have to twist our arms much in the days prior, and he's not wrong! I'm handed a grocery bag, more generosity in the form of ground moose, moose steaks, caribou loin, bacon, partridgeberry jam and bakeapple jam. I don't express any reluctance to taking it or to feeling like we were leaving him with no food, as the day before he gave me a bit of heck, saying I was "just going to have to get past that." I thank him profusely, ask a few questions of food preparations (slice the moose and fry it, jam is jam, put it on bread) and we head to Sea Fire.
Jean is stunned at the grocery bag, echoing my thanks to Les. We store the food and then tell the by's, "ok, we are going to get the boat ready, we will come get you when we're ready to shove off." They say alright but don't move, ignoring our not-so-subtle request to leave and let us work for a few mins. Barry joins them (his wife cooked cod gratin that Les enjoyed 2 days prior) and its clear we will have an audience while we prepare for departure. It turned into a blessing. Preparations went leisurely while chatting with them in the morning sun. Relocate a halyard, check the running rigging, re-run the furling line we had repaired the day before (shocking that I made a mess of it after 2 beers - I blamed Les and he laughed), and before you know it, we shook their hands and Jean slipped the stern line before starting the engine (pure distraction). The boat slowly floated away from the dock and I said, "alright skipper, lets start the engine," Les commented that I was getting bossy and I responded that I learned it from him! We all laughed, Sea Fire floats gracefully and slowly away from the dock and we motor away - the least stress we have experienced in any sort of docking manoever since moving on board.
Waving goodbye is bittersweet. Jean - the one who is always ready to move on - says he was thinking we should have stayed a few more days. We reminisce about our time in Rose Blanche, laughing as we head towards La Poile on the beautiful sunny morning.
My only regret is that I didn't get a photo of the shed or the wharf before we left, being too distracted with all the goings on.
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