We were in Newfoundland in 1975. Just went. Used bug and the two of us. Drove until the highway ended in North Sydney and someone said a ferry was heading out through the night to Newfoundland. We looked at one another, "let's go?" Let's go. I almost missed getting on by going over to talk to a truck driver who was standing outside his rig smoking a cigarette and watching everything load on. I was watching, too. We talked. Rain and splashed lighting all over the earth at that moment. Slam crash sounds. Big boat loading up. We took a shower on that crossing, six hours of little sleep in what felt like a swishing bowl. We swishing. When the boat landed, and all for little money, we drove off and drove for some days heading northward until the road just sort of ruined out.
photo © susan arnold