Harvey the HarbourSeal, Part I: Labrador

By: Youth Ambassador Ariela White

Not everyone seeks out a grand adventure. Sometimes adventure finds them. Sometimes you embark on a journey, and you don’t value it until you reach the end. Adventure takes many forms, like the craftiness and the shape-shifting power of a selkie. Beneath the deep blue ocean, where lights dance and fade, the possibilities are endless. Humans have barely scratched the surface of what lies below. There, in the depths, swims a seal who peacefully plays with the other young members of his herd. Who was he to deny the call of adventure when it beckoned him? Who was he to deny the plans that were predestined for him? Was he to refuse?

Adventure was calling him.

He would take it by its reins and ride it to his destiny.

Swiftly, he swam away from the herd, Northbound, propelled by instincts that he didn’t fully understand.

Overseen by a pale, gray day, the white truck drove down to the bay. The landscape was full of rocky hills, ocean between land, various lakes, and tiny white houses with red roofs scattered around. A faint country song played as the driver sipped coffee and wondered about the weather forecast for the rest of the day. She hears her familiar ringtone of an obnoxiously upbeat K-pop song she loved 6 years ago, and the phone displaying the caller’s contact information. She turned the radio down and wedged the phone between her shoulder and neck, her head tilted sideways as she drove.

“Hey Marcie, ” she answered.

“Annabelle!” the voice on the phone says, “How’s my story coming along?”

Annabelle yawns, “It’s just getting started. You know I’m still mad that you made me come all the way out here. This place is in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, who even comes to Labrador anyways?”

“People with taste.” Marcie replied. “Listen, Anna. Do you know why out of all of my writers I chose you for Atlantic Canada?”

“Because you hate me, ” Annabelle deadpanned.

“No. It’s because I think this trip will be good for you. As both your co-worker and your friend, I find myself partly responsible for your mental health and wellbeing.”

“I think you mean suffering, ” Annabelle shot back. “Stop complaining. You’ll only look worse when you come back , all happy, and then you thank me and tell me I was right all along. Now get me my feature.”

Annabelle was left with the resounding disconnected beeps. She jammed her phone back into the cup holder and sipped her hot coffee, the radio off, and nothing but her thoughts left to occupy her.

That’s what she did for the next twenty minutes, think about her life choices, until she pulled into Red Bay National Historic Site.

Annabelle didn’t know much about Labrador or Labrador’s history. She found that it was a place that was often overlooked. Canada was very big and wide, there were so many amazing locations that no one had really heard of. Annabelle hadn’t been to too many other countries, but when she did, it was hard telling people she was originally from Nova Scotia. No one really knew where that was. Alas, Annabelle landed,at what used to be a bustling industrial complex in the 16th century, off the coast of Labrador. There wasn’t much. Just nature and some old whale bones, apparently. Camera slung over one shoulder and her notepad in hand, Annabelle walked over to the Interpretation Centre building to see what knowledge Red Bay could possibly impart onto her.

Inside the Interpretation Centre she found that Red Bay used to be a hub for Basque whalers from 1550 to the early 17th century, with people living in Red Bay for as long as 8,000 years. The Basque people are a people group that come from the region between France and Spain. In fact, the name “Red Bay” came from the red terra cotta roofing tiles that the Spanish brought over to build their houses with. In the Interpretation Centre, Annabelle found artifacts like whaling weapons, shoes and harpoons, nautical navigation tools to help with calculations, and animal bones. Finds like these are what made Red Bay a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2013. Annabelle found the Basque ship on display the most interesting thing in the museum. She took a moment to imagine men trying their hardest to hunt the native Right and Bowhead whales in a boat like this one. It was quite small, certainly smaller than the whales that were being hunted for their blubber, and simply designed.

Armed with enough pictures of the exhibits to fill this autumn’s magazine issue, and enough whale knowledge to become a whaler herself, she exited the Interpretation Centre and set off on a hike to the Boney Shore Walking Trail. On this trail, it was promised that you would find many whale bones. Stopping by her truck to get her art supplies, she headed off on a walk. The autumn air was starting to cool, and the gray sky above her didn’t seem too promising. She scanned her mental packing list of things she brought, but an umbrella was nowhere to be found. Annabelle let out a small sigh. Great. She made her way to the red sign that read “Boney Shore Walking Trail" and started her hike from there.

Annabelle had expected to find whale bones on this trail (it was in the name, after all), but what Annabelle was not expecting was for them to almost look like rocks. Perhaps it was age, these were from the 16th century, after all, but why did they look like misshapen rocks with a lot of holes in them? They almost looked like giant pieces of coral, and they were everywhere along the sides of this trail. It was strangely beautiful. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe in the fresh air. This tiny town held so much charm. It was evident that nights here were quiet, and any news that stemmed from this place was few and far between. There was a sense of remoteness that came from Labrador, a sort of tranquil calm and mystery that sourced here. This truly felt like a place where she could disconnect from the world… but Annabelle didn’t truly get why Marcie wanted her to be here, why Marcie thought that this place had the potential to change her. Annabelle didn’t want to disconnect from the world, she wanted to live in it. She loved the city life that she had created for herself, even if it felt like the world opposed her lately. Out of all the places that she could have been sent to, she was chosen for this place. These tiny Atlantic Canadian provinces.

Annabelle couldn’t figure out if she wanted more people to know about this place, or if it should remain a hidden gem. Maybe she could let people decide for themselves once they read her magazine feature. She walked further down the trail and determined that the end of the beach would be a picturesque location for her to paint. It is not allowed to disturb the whale bones of Red Bay at all, so Annabelle had to discern from which “rocks” were rocks and not whale bones. Once she found one, she sat down, took off her backpack, put it beside her, and brought out her art supplies. Going down to the water, she took her cup, filled it, opened up her watercolour palette, dipped her brush in the water, and put the paint to the paper. She started by using blue for the ocean. Next, she painted where she was at the bottom of the page. She made sure to include the beach and some whale bones. Then she painted the land, the hills and the little tri-coloured houses, painted red, green, and white. Then she decided to take some creative liberties and change up the sky a little bit. Instead of the gray sky, she decided it would look better in the magazine if she painted a blue sky with long clouds that stretched across the canvas.

There was just one problem; that was all the vision in her head. In reality, her perspective was off, the horizon line was too high, and the hill was too low. She had messed up the configuration of the land, and now it didn’t look like Red Bay’s coastline at all. Annabelle pressed her lips into a thin line and tightened the grip on her paintbrush. She only had one job, to go to the places her editor told her to go, find out about the history so that she could write it, take a couple of pictures, and then choose a spot to create a painting. It was that simple. So why couldn’t Annabelle get this part down? Annabelle tightened her grip on her paintbrush. Her knuckles turned white, and the brush snapped. Frustrated, she abruptly shot to her feet, her painting falling off her lap, and she threw the brush pieces into the sea. Painting in this mood wasn’t possible, she would just have to prepare a sketch and take some photos to paint later.

Annabelle turned to find her camera in her backpack. She was not prepared to find a seal on its stomach looking straight at her.

“Oh my, ” she whispered to no one in particular, “There’s a seal here.”

The seal made a quiet noise, a bit like the meow of a cat. Annabelle was a bit curious as to Why, in a place dedicated to whales, somehow she ended up finding a seal?

The human was very amusing. She was interesting to watch, how she moved, how she created her art, and how the crease between her eyebrows never really seemed to go away. An outsider in this world, the seal could sense that there was something troubling her.

Perhaps it was a strange mood, but the seal found it within himself, a compelling sense that he found what he was looking for. Here, he had heeded the call of adventure, it brought him to a girl who needed to find her purpose again, her happiness. A girl with a lot to share, and much to get off her chest. A girl who needed the distractions of this world, and a chance to redeem herself. This was someone he had crossed oceans for, and he sensed a spark of potential within her.

He also sensed food in the human’s pouch. The human had not moved since she turned. Her breathing was slow and she didn’t seem to know how to act. The idea popped into Annabelle’s mind that she should take a picture for the magazine, so that’s what she decided to do. After all, she didn’t usually come within 6 feet from a seal. Looking down to her camera around her neck, she turned it back on and held it up to her eye. She swivelled around trying to locate the seal. His head was in her backpack and he was using his snout to dig around in there

“HEY!” Annabelle cried, letting her camera fall and snatching her backpack, pulling it off the seal’s head. It was too late, the creature had already taken the sealed bag with her lunch in his mouth. Annabelle was furious. Her eyes grew wide, and flashed in anger as a warning to the seal.

“You give that back right now!” she commanded.

The silly human wanted the food back? Well, the silly human was not going to get it back. The seal flicked its head upwards and grabbed the bag again with his mouth, this time catching it from the bottom, allowing all of the contents to empty onto the ground. The seal was delighted. He started to munch on the squishy white circles that were kind of slimy like fish.

“My eggs!” Annabelle exclaimed.

The seal ate all of the eggs, and then moved to sniffing what did smell like fish

“My tuna sandwich!” Annabelle remarked. It was hopeless, her lunch was already being eaten up by a seal. What a day.

Annabelle shook her head. She was not very happy. First, she had to wake up early to come to Red Bay. That was bad enough. Mornings don’t agree with Annabelle. Then she’s here of all places. Her painting wasn’t turning out, and now a seal was stealing all of her lunch? Yep. It was time to explode.

“Listen here, you stupid seal. Do you want to hear a story? I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a little girl. This little girl had her childhood, her little life in a boring little town just like this one. One day, that girl decided that there must have been more to life than what a tiny town had to offer. She then spent the rest of her childhood and teenage years saving up enough money to finally get out of there. And when she did, it was amazing. She loved the city and everyone in it. In a town where everyone knew who she was, the family that she came from, in the city no one knew anything about her. It was a place where she finally felt small. Like the world was bigger than just what she grew up with. She got a job doing what she loved, writing, painting, reporting, all of that good stuff. Then, suddenly, her editor decided that she needed to go back to what she left. That she needs to “reconnect with her past” and go on some silly, “self discovery” journey. And then, amid all of that, there was a seal. And this seal was very annoying for this girl. She wanted nothing more, but for him to go away, and buy her a new lunch. But all of that was hopeless, as seals can’t…

Annabelle clenched her hand into a fist and pressed her mouth into a thin line. She forcefully sat back down

“Seals can’t even understand what I’m saying.”

The rain started to pour, and Annabelle, the seal, and the painting of Red Bay were all drenched in water. Her eyes flooded and Annabelle had to wipe the water away with her sleeve. It was not very effective since her sleep was already damp. When she opened her eyes again, the seal was gone. Wow. So that was it, huh? She tells him her story and he gets scared off. Maybe this was why she had no friends. Annabelle tilted her head up to face the rain. The sky was crying. And she felt like crying too. But there was nothing left for her here in Red Bay. Annabelle took her soaking wet watercolour paper, her brushes, dumped the paint water on the rocks, and jammed it into her backpack.

She still had a long journey ahead of her. All aboard the next ferry to Newfoundland.