The ferry gently rocks into La Poile Harbour, releasing passengers into a symphony of sensory delights: crisp salt air mingled with earthy spruce, the distant calls of seabirds echoing off rugged cliffs, and the rhythmic hum of ATVs awaiting newcomers. The familiar blend of scents and sights is instantly calming, transporting me back to childhood summers spent in this cherished place. Locals gather on the wharf, warmly smiling alongside curious Labrador retrievers whose wagging tails express the community’s welcoming spirit. For me, stepping onto this isolated wharf on Newfoundland’s rugged southwest coast is not merely a visit, it’s an emotional homecoming deeply rooted in my family’s history, especially connected to memories shared with my grandmother.
La Poile Newfoundland, accessible only by sea, lies approximately 35 kilometers east of Rose Blanche, the nearest road-accessible town. Its cluttered homes perch along steep and rocky hillsides, interconnected by narrow concrete paths just wide enough for pedestrians and ATVs to pass side-by-side. The outport community embodies quintessential Newfoundland charm—a timeless landscape where dramatic cliffs and dense forests blend seamlessly with the Atlantic Ocean.
My connection to La Poile runs deep, intricately tied to the maritime legacy of my ancestors. My great-grandfather, Philip Chant, faithfully kept the lighthouse on nearby Ireland’s Island, guiding vessels safely through the perilous waters of Newfoundland’s south-west coast. Tragically, Philip was lost at sea when my grandmother was just seven years old, leaving behind a legacy of resilience and heartbreak. Years later, my grandfather Samuel Ralph, a young man from Grand Bank, journeyed here to teach, fell in love with my grandmother, and forever intertwined our family’s narrative with La Poile.
Growing up, my grandmother was like a second mother to me. During my earliest formative years, we lived in the basement apartment of her house in Grand Bank. Countless mornings were spent in her living room, where she would sit in her favorite chair, leafing through Sears catalogs or Chatelaine magazines. I’d sit on the floor, just behind a worn seam in the carpet that marked the boundary my grandmother had set after hearing on a morning TV talk show that sitting too close to the TV was bad for one’s eyes. Occasionally, I’d glance back and see her eyes gently closed, magazine resting on her lap. I’d teasingly accuse her of sleeping, but she always responded, smiling softly, “I’m just resting my eyes.”
These quiet moments provided ample opportunities for storytelling, seasoned richly with accounts of her childhood in La Poile. Her stories transported me to summers spent on Ireland’s Island, where she would play with paper dolls amidst grassy paths and rocky shores. These tales, mingled with the occasional traditional superstition, shaped my imagination profoundly. Her captivating stories painted vibrant images that fostered a deep emotional connection to La Poile, a community I’d never lived in yet grew to love as intimately as my own hometown.
My trip in 2009 held special significance, marking my first visit without my parents, occurring shortly after marrying my wife, Pam. Our journey across Newfoundland began in St. John’s, marked by mishaps like Pam breaking her toe before photographing a wedding and the stress of a damaged external hard drive containing precious photographs. These incidents clouded the journey with anxiety, resolved only after confirming backups safely stored at home. Despite these challenges, we pressed on, exploring Gros Morne National Park and connecting with historical roots at L’Anse Aux Meadows before heading south to Rose Blanche.
Departing Rose Blanche by ferry, we passed its iconic lighthouse, a poignant reminder of my paternal great-grandfather’s roots there, subtly linking both sides of my family’s heritage to this journey. This lighthouse, standing proudly against harsh Newfoundland weather, felt like a guardian of our collective memories.
Arriving in La Poile immediately alleviated our travel anxieties. The familiar scene at the wharf—locals eagerly collecting family and freight, ATVs gently humming, dogs greeting visitors enthusiastically—felt therapeutic. Seeing my grandfather standing among the crowd added emotional depth, as previous visits had never included this sight.
One photograph from one of our mornings there vividly captures a childhood memory: a green boat leaving the harbour, framed by various fishing stages and clusters of houses. In this scene, I see myself as a child again, exploring wooden stages, breathing in mingling scents of fresh fish and salt air, accompanied by my uncle’s loyal dog, Toby, whose joyful presence defined my summers here. These sensory-rich experiences and the stories shared by my grandmother intertwined seamlessly, forming an inseparable bond between myself and La Poile.
Another image perfectly encapsulates authentic Newfoundland spirit: a smiling fisherman steering his speedboat towards the bay, his Labrador retriever perched confidently at the bow. In the background, teenagers gather casually, clothing drying on a line in the ocean breeze. This photograph embodies genuine outport life, untouched by tourism’s influence, reminiscent of youthful adventures my grandmother often described, enhancing my own memories aboard similar boats, marveling at similar dogs that would roam the town and swim freely in the ocean.
Visiting Ireland’s Island, accompanied by my great-uncle Reg and his grandson Cody, deepened my emotional connection to La Poile. Watching Uncle Reg quietly stare across the waves, perhaps recalling his father’s tragic loss, was moving to me. Cody eagerly explored, seeking bird eggs, unknowingly continuing ancestral traditions. Walking the grassy paths my grandmother once traversed, I felt a powerful sense of belonging. Collecting a small stone and metal fragment from the old lighthouse foundation, now replaced by an automated beacon, provided a tangible connection to the stories my grandmother often shared with me.
The resilience of La Poile’s residents was especially evident during an unexpected power outage that happened on the morning that moose hunting season opened. Unable to operate the community’s crane, several men in the community creatively used a forklift to unload moose from boats, exemplifying their practical ingenuity and community solidarity.
My great-aunt Audrey’s modest store remains an essential part of my La Poile memories. As a child, I delighted in visiting her shop, mistakenly believing snacks were magically free, unaware my mother discreetly covered the costs the night before we took the ferry to head home. Years later, observing young Cody confidently operating boats and interacting comfortably with elders, it became clear how naturally La Poile fosters intergenerational relationships, reflecting my grandmother’s accounts of growing up in a community where such interactions were not just encouraged, but essential.
Celebrating my 26th birthday during this trip, Aunt Violet lovingly prepared homemade pizza and a cake, creating a warm, ‘at-home’ feel to an evening filled with laughter and stories. These simple yet cherished interactions, disconnected from modern distractions, mirrored the storytelling traditions my grandmother nurtured in me during our shared mornings in her living room.
Reflecting on this visit, I realized how profoundly the slower, simpler life in La Poile impacted me. Without cell service or constant digital distractions, I fully appreciated genuine conversations, rich storytelling, and community traditions—values instilled in me by my grandmother’s stories and reminiscing. Capturing these moments through photography underscored the urgency of documenting Newfoundland’s rapidly fading cultural heritage.
Each photograph from La Poile reveals deeper narratives with each revisit, fueling my resolve to document Newfoundland’s authentic outport life. This community, deeply entwined with my personal history and my grandmother’s influence, epitomizes resilience amid modern pressures. It remains both timeless and delicate—a powerful symbol of our cultural roots and how important it is to preserve them.
I departed La Poile committed to return, eager to share this heritage with my children, and determined to comprehensively document this remarkable community and its people. This promise represents my dedication to honoring La Poile’s legacy and my grandmother’s lasting impact, ensuring its stories, resilience, and authenticity endure for future generations.