ENTRY 21 -- Bakeapple Pie

North America » Canada » Newfoundland & Labrador » Cook's Harbour
March 8th 1987

Published: January 10th 2006

An Excerpt from the Travel Journal of Nigel Fox circa 1925

Entry 21 -- Bakeapple Pie

Norah's research showed that the usual method of Nordic travel was the long-ship. Uniquely built, it could glide across the water. However the vessel was vulnerable to storms. Using the sun and stars for bearing, the Nordic sailors would follow the coastline wherever possible (keeping a safe distance). Recognising the warning signs of bad weather, they would pull into land before the storm broke. Currents were the most important factor in Nordic travel. The Norsemen would move with the flow, even if it meant a longer route. Norah figured that Leif and the Kristmen (Pronounced Krīstmen with a hard k) had followed the strong current up the west coast of Greenland, shifted over round about Cape Dyer and had taken the Labrador current south to Vinland.

"Westward to Vinland!" declared Norah with optimism I did not believe she felt; the North Atlantic could be bleak and foreboding, even in early summer. Her plan was an interesting one. Having collected all the information she could about the Greenlander's trip to Vinland, she decided to re-enact the voyage. She would leave Eiriksfjord on the same date the Greenlander did, travelling at the same speed, following the same route.* If all went according to plan, this should guide her to that section of New England that once was Vinland.

Setting Sail to the Edge of the Earth

The Greenlander and the Dane-Saxon monk from the Hebrides had had the full backing of the Nordic King. This meant they were provided with everything they needed to explore and settle Vinland. (Still, Leif refused to give up his house.) It was decided to take livestock and womenfolk and to colonise. The Greenlander's vessels were the 'best in the world'. Each was manned by 35 venturesome souls, who had looked forward to sailing to the edge of the earth. Before they left, the sailors had spent the evening at the Krist Chapel praying for a safe journey. They sang a hymn composed by the Dane-Saxon:

To the Tryer of holy men,

To the Knower of danger,

I pray He favour my voyage.

May the Lord of the monk,

Who holds heaven and earth,

Protect me with His power.

Leif had hugged his mother and father as he prepared to leave. His father was proud to have a "true Northman" for a son, while his mother was proud to have a "true Kristman". She told him, "You must build churches to the Lord. And do not drink too much of that good wine that the legends speak of. Say a prayer for your father's broken foot." Leif had nodded and stepped aboard the flagship of his fleet; they sailed down Eiriksfjord singing songs to the glory of the Kristgod. Even the rowers sang merrily, keeping time with the glistening brown oars.

The Dane-Saxon told Leif, the Master, "I have never heard such a joyful noise to the Lord, even in my days at the Abbey."

Leif had laughed and responded, "Praise the Lord - and let us do the King of Kings proud!"

-ii-
We set out to re-enact the voyage: leaving at the same time, same date, even singing Christian hymns. Our captain at first was decidedly perturbed at the rate of speed and manoeuvres he was instructed to perform but Norah was insistent that our voyage would be a total duplication of that of the Greenlander. She had copies of maps from that era* and had learned everything about Viking navigation that she could. She had even calculated the differential re vessel size; it had taken a considerable amount of work, which, she maintained, would all be worthwhile if it bore fruit.

-iii-
The Dane-Saxon smiled at his Master. "I am fashioning a wooden cross for your neck. It will keep our captain safe."

"The talisman of the Kristgod will do that!" roared the Greenlander, in Viking fashion. "We must just keep our faith; we are people of duty. The Sagas will speak of us for many years: we are courageously going where no Kristman has gone." It was a good crew that sailed the fleet, never losing the stroke of the oar. They all had confidence with Leif the Lucky at the steer board.

-iv-
The wind shifted as we came to the open ocean. Norah and I could picture that crew of long ago working the drag. "Follow the current," ordered Norah to an incredulous captain. And so it went for four days: Norah ordering a duplication of every manoeuvre made by the Greenlander.

"What are you doing, Norah?" I finally questioned, greatly concerned. "You are putting us all at risk."

"Yes," she agreed, "but if my theory is right, to-morrow morning we will encounter Helluland (Stone Land).

Helluland

"Eyes front!" directed the Dane-Saxon, "Land ho!"

The Greenlander was excited: "We have arrived at the edge of the world." Yet when they got closer, their hearts fell. No trees, no grass, no vines, just a flat slab of grey rock. It was obvious from their surroundings that the weather was consistently brutal.

"This cannot be Vinland," grumbled the crew. "Maybe your vision was a trick from the devil." Struck with terror, they began to moan and groan about the doom that would confront them.

Leif the Lucky shook his unruly copper-coloured hair, let out his booming roar of a laugh and said to his men, "Are you old women? Maybe we should have the girls we have brought for wives take the oars!" The women eagerly took up the challenge, shaming the men greatly. Their future husbands cried that they would follow their Captain into the greatest danger and were prepared to laugh at death. This big island was named 'Helluland' by the Dane-Saxon, because it was a barren slab of rock.

-ii-
There was no doubt that Helluland was Baffin Island. We stayed at the 'inlet' two days, as had the Greenlander. Norah was elated: her theory seemed to be proving correct. We saw silver fox, arctic hare and one lone polar bear.

Norah waited for the north wind, and when it came we set out for Markland. This wind from the north was just as the Greenlander had described it, powerful, steady and potentially destructive. For three days we "followed" it until we saw the green woods of Markland.

A Sight They Would Never Forget

"Land ho!" called the Dane-Saxon once more as the entire crew stared at the green woods and white-sand beaches. A party of Northmen went ashore at this more promising land. Returning to the ships, it was obvious that they were disappointed. No grapes or meadows had been found and the land was harsh. In view of the fact that the place was densely forested, Leif named it Markland; he ordered the expedition to move on, onwards to Vinland. At this, the crew began to groan in fear, crying out that if the ship went any further it would fall off the edge of the world.

Once again the women derided, "Do these men have Nordic blood in their veins or mother's milk? We can not marry men who are smooth between the legs." This brought an end to the quarrelling. Following some hunting and fishing; they set sail again. After two days they viewed a land they would never forget!

-ii-
The green woods of Markland were just as Nora believed. Two days out from Markland, something momentous took place. Norah, viewing her old Nordic map* and checking the details with the Greenlander Saga, realised the sickening fact: she had horribly miscalculated. There was no way that Vinland the Good could ever be in New England. It is at this point that our memories get confused. I believe one of our crew sighted land and then we heard a horrible crash. In any event, the boat lurched and Norah slipped and bumped her head. We had struck an iceberg; it as a small iceberg but an iceberg nonetheless.

To my horror, Norah's head was bleeding profusely. She was unconscious! I screamed to Sipho to help me wake her. We were unsuccessful, but fortunately had time to put life vests on all of us; the boat was not sinking as quickly as it should have, due to the fact that it was resting against the oddly-shaped 'berg. Nevertheless, we were going down. I still remember being slowly surrounded by the frigid water. The bitter cold was numbingly biting. It actually hurt. The last thing I remember as I passed out was that the sea was colder than I imagined it would be . . .

Pistolet Bay

We all would have perished that day if it had not been for Mister Woodward and his tiny fishing crew. They plucked us from the freezing-cold water. It was a miracle. The entire group** made speedy recoveries save for Norah, who lay near death. The local "doctor" tended Norah night and day for a week. We feared the worst until Sunday morning when she opened her eyes and asked, "Where am I?"

"Pistolet Bay, mai'," replied our hostess, Missus Pittman. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Norah replied, "but a little hungry."

And that was it: no headaches, no amnesia, she was herself again.

Over the next couple of days we explored: the fish plant, the harbour, and of course the "James Cook memorial". We heard the many legends about the captain who had founded this tiny community. Although we were incredulous, we feigned interest. It was as though we had entered another world, from an earlier time. The wooden houses were all similar in design, the main level built high off the ground due to the height to which snow falls would reach. A covered porch or 'bridge' led to the entrance. There were small docks and boathouses near the waterfront, where men had spent many hours mending their nets over the winter, readying themselves for the fishing season. The paths and roads were muddy; the breeze off of the water was cold and almost non-stop. Although the weathered faces were at first wary and shy, the folk warmed up to us; eventually.

Stranded

Norah's spirits fell as the reality sank in: how could she have been so wrong? Her theory had proved so erroneous that it was almost laughable. There was no way for anyone to ever find the legendary Vinland. Maybe the sagas and legends had no truth in them at all. Stranded on the northern tip of Newfoundland, all her research lost at sea, her dream of proving that the Vikings discovered North America shattered, she was more despondent than I could believe possible.

"Mai'," said Missus Pittman. "Your lookin' so low that you gotta look up to see bottom. I know whad'll 'elp cheers you up; my bakeapple pie!"

Now both Norah and I love apple pie, so I smiled my agreement. When Missus Pittman returned, she cut a big, juicy slice for each of us.

"This is not apple pie," announced Norah absently, looking down sadly at her piece, a flaky pie crust with lots of small golden cluster-grapes and cream.

Missus Pittman laughed. "Bakeapple pie tain't madefrom 'happles. Gah - ya mainlanders know nuttin'. Bakeapples are small golden berries growin' on small vines."

"Do they grow around here?" asked Norah, her voice suddenly brightening.

"Do they grow 'round hereabouts?"

"Do they grow 'round here! All that grows 'roun 'ere; tousans 'n tousans a bakeapples. Uses them for everything fr'm pie, to juice 'n the mornin'."

Norah, eyes wide open: "Can you make wine from them?"

Missus Pittman was flabbergasted. "Kin ya make wine fr'm bakeapples? Kin ya make wine fr'm bakeapples!?" She jumped up and promptly returned with a bottle. Norah and I sampled a bit of the golden nectar. Exquisite... velvety smooth... the golden cluster-grapes made a sweet, pure, wine that was aromatic with heavenly flavours. Extraordinarily good!

The three of us went through the bottle. Norah was elated, partly the effect of the wine, partly from her discovery.

"To Wine Land the Good," she toasted.

Missus Pittman, smilingly whispered to me, "Told ya my bakeapple pie'd cheer 'er."

Links:

Leif Erikson

*The ancient Skálholt map shows the route of Lief the lucky: Greenland, Helleland (Helluland), Markland, Skrælinge Land and Promontorium Vinlandiæ (Vinland the good)

**Sipho and the crew returned home via Montreal.