People only ever refer to a place as their hometown if they\u2019ve left it, Jamieson thought. This place was just home. People who moved away from Cape Cullow didn\u2019t return, save for family visits in the summer. In the winter, the snow gripped the sea soaked roads and quickly turned them into death traps. Cape Cullow was a fringe community with a shrinking population and little industry outside of fishing cod in the summers.<\/p>\n
Jamieson made his way to the town post office after finishing his morning routine of scrolling through his phone until the absolute last minute in order to make it work on time. His drive to the post office was six minutes, twenty-seven if it was warm enough to walk.<\/p>\n
Outside of the post office stood an older man, somewhere in his sixties. Of the 400-some-odd faces that Jamieson had come to know in his nine years working at the post office and lifetime resident, this one did not belong to anyone from Cape Cullow. Jamieson put his car in park and noted the time. 9:03. Nobody ever comes early enough to know when I\u2019m late<\/em>, he thought.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning,\u201d Jamieson greeted the man, \u201chave you been waiting out here for very long?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust a few minutes, not very long,\u201d the man replied.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry about that. Let\u2019s get inside – can I help you with something?\u201d Jamieson shifted his keys in his hand to grab the key to open the front door to the post office and inserted the key into the lock, pushed his foot down against the base of the door to allow the lock to come loose when he twisted it, letting it loose.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just looking to set up a mailbox for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n Jamieson walked past the counter and switched on the lights to the lobby of the post office and placed his bag on the floor as the man entered behind him.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, absolutely. I\u2019ll just need a copy of your I.D. and then I\u2019ll get you to sign a few things, go over the fees with you and you should be all set.\u201d Jamieson moved to his left and opened up a cabinet to retrieve the registration forms as the man reached for his wallet and presented his driver\u2019s license.<\/p>\n William Cochran It wasn\u2019t uncommon to see older folks move to Cape Cullow. A lot of people thought that this village could be a decent retirement destination. Cheap housing by the sea, large properties, enough stores to not have to go to the city, relatively quiet. Most folks only made it a few winters before giving up and going back to the mainland, where most of them seemed to come from. Ironically, Jamieson\u2019s parents had moved away from Cape Cullow and to the mainland, where they bounced around from town to city to town only to complain that it was too warm each time.<\/p>\n \u201cAh, new to the village. Welcome to Cape Cullow, Mr. Cochran,\u201d Jamieson said.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, William is fine,\u201d the man smiled as he replied. His politeness came as a relief considering Jamieson was late.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m gonna photocopy your driver\u2019s license. I\u2019ll just need you to read the bottom portion of the second page and sign and date underneath saying you have read and agree to the charges for opening a mailbox.\u201d Jamieson slid the two pages across the counter to William and grabbed a pen from the shelf below the counter for him to use.<\/p>\n William took his time examining the fine print of the agreement while Jamieson ran the photocopier. \u201cIt says here that postal service isn\u2019t responsible for any fee repayment in the event of a post office closure or relocation. I don\u2019t have to worry about that, do I?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m supposed to mention to everyone that sets up a mailbox that this outpost is currently under review, which means that they\u2019re currently deciding whether or not it\u2019s viable to have a post office here. If it\u2019s deemed unnecessary, the next closest location will be in St. Agatha, about twenty-five minutes from here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill there be any notice if that were to close this location?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe review has been going on thirteen years now, which is longer than I\u2019ve worked here so I\u2019d say you\u2019re fine,\u201d Jamieson chuckled.<\/p>\n William laughed with relief and signed the remaining paperwork. Given a key and shown his new mailbox, Jamieson watched him wrote a note to himself remember which one it was.<\/p>\n \u201cOnce again, welcome to Cape Cullow and if there\u2019s anything else you need just let me or one of your neighbours know,\u201d Jamieson said. He knew the family that lived at 46 Cabots Hill, Mr. and Mrs. Fenly, and their teenage son Eric, and an older daughter Molly that has since moved away to go to college on the mainland. They were about as nice a family of neighbours as you could get, and they\u2019d certainly invite William over to welcome him to town.<\/p>\n \u201cActually, yes,\u201d William replied, \u201cwould you be able to tell me how to get to Barter\u2019s Ridge?\u201d<\/p>\n A strange request. There wasn\u2019t a whole lot to do at Barter\u2019s Ridge this time of year. The way there was simple; it was only a 5 minute drive up the hill to reach the top.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not too difficult. It\u2019s actually really close to this post office. What are you looking for up there?\u201d At the top of the hill sat an old lighthouse that no longer lit the way for ships passing the cape. It was now just a gift shop for local delicacies and goods made by some of the locals. The only car Jamieson would see drive up the hill frequently was the car belonging to the family that owned the gift shop.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m thinking about attending the Festival of Lights,\u201d William replied.<\/p>\n That was the one time of year when people who didn\u2019t reside in Cape Cullow would visit the town to see an elaborate display of string lights and artwork from communities all around the seaside. \u201cThe festival isn\u2019t for another five weeks, you\u2019re a little early,\u201d Jamieson remarked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m also thinking about setting up a booth at the festival so I wanted to see how they\u2019re spaced out. Have you attended the festival before?\u201d William asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOnly every year since I was three years old,\u201d Jamieson said. He had made a point to attend the festival though it never seemed to change. It was a break in the monotony of only seeing local faces. Jamieson could spot the difference between someone from the seaside region and someone from the city or mainland. The mainlanders were almost always underdressed and assumed that a sunny day meant it was warm. The wind atop the cliffs was too chilly for them, making many of them seek out warmth in the lighthouse gift shop. People from the seaside region usually dressed in warmer clothing and more comfortable shoes for walking on the unpaved parts of the hilltop, venturing from tent to tent. That and the accents were a dead giveaway.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s almost a straight shot – when you leave this parking lot you\u2019re gonna turn left and then take the first left again and drive straight up the hill. There\u2019s another road that will fork off to the left but that\u2019s just parking for the cliffside trail, you\u2019ll want to go straight,\u201d Jamieson informed him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s the trail like?\u201d William asked. Jamieson didn\u2019t think he\u2019d be interested in the trail. The only people who took the trail were avid hikers from out of town.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s kind of old. Run down. It takes about ninety minutes at a good pace but there\u2019s parts of it that are a little iffy in terms of safety,\u201d he replied. The iffy parts weren\u2019t all that bad. The narrower parts of the trail were only enough for one person to walk at a time, which wasn\u2019t a problem since it was never too busy. At its narrowest, the trail was about two feet wide and ran alongside an open part of the cliffside. It was enough to walk on your own with little noticeable trouble but the locals installed a chain rope into the cliffside to grab onto if you were feeling nervous.<\/p>\n \u201cI think I\u2019ll take the trail. Thank you Jamieson,\u201d he replied, glancing at his nametag on his post office uniform.<\/p>\n A sense of obligation came over Jamieson. A man his age shouldn\u2019t be doing the trail on his own, and especially for the first time. The trail wasn\u2019t very hazardous to Jamieson but he hadn\u2019t been on it in years. For all he knew the trail could be easy since he\u2019d done it about a hundred times. It was hard to remember the first time since that would have been over twenty-five years ago when he was just a toddler.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should let me take you if you\u2019re gonna do the trail. I\u2019ll show you where all the tents are set up for the festival too,\u201d he suggested.<\/p>\n \u201cYou really don\u2019t have to, but thank you,\u201d William replied. His response felt like typical politeness to Jamieson.<\/p>\n \u201cNo really, I\u2019m not just saying that. If you\u2019re going to do the trail why don\u2019t you come by here at 5:30 when I\u2019m done work. I\u2019ll park my car at the top of the hill and we can park yours in the trail lot, it\u2019ll save you from having to walk all the way back down to the lot when you\u2019re finished.\u201d Jamieson figured framing it this way would make it more practical to William, and there\u2019d still be enough light left to do the trail in the evening this time of year.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s very kind of you,\u201d William replied, \u201care you sure you want to spend your evening being a guide to the oldest man in Cape Cullow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPositive,\u201d said Jamieson. William was hardly the oldest in Cape Cullow. The end of Jamieson\u2019s shift came and William arrived with a few minutes to spare. Jamieson kept the post office open thirty minutes past when he was required to give some of the locals extra time to get any postage sent last minute, so he wouldn\u2019t have minded if he was a little late like Jamieson had been that morning.<\/p>\n The men began their walk at the trail alongside the road. William had wondered when Jamieson had the time to bring his car to the top of the hill and he had filled him in. As their walk began, Jamieson started telling William facts about the trail as it had related to the history of Cape Cullow. How the trail was first used by earlier settlers to the region. How, once the population grew, they used dynamite to clear the way for a road to be built to the top in the late 1800s. There was too much to tell for such a boring place.<\/p>\n Jamieson was unsure about whether or not William was interested in any of this. He was doing most of the talking and was starting to sound like he was trying too hard to make the trail anything other than something the locals had mostly forgotten about.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat brings you to Cape Cullow?\u201d Jamieson asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m originally from Cape Drees,\u201d he explained. This was a surprise to Jamieson. Cape Drees was all the way on the other side of the island and very similar to Cape Cullow. \u201cBut my parents moved our family to Ottawa when I was six. Now that I\u2019m older, I wanted to, sort of, return to my roots.\u201d<\/p>\n There it was. Another mainland retiree. He\u2019ll hate the winter here<\/em>, Jamieson thought. \u201cWhy Cape Cullow instead of your hometown?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n The two men got to the first major descent in the trail that would bring them down to near-sea level before they began the 500 foot ascent to the top that twisted around the cliff. This was the easiest part of the trail.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to be starting Sunday services at the Saint David\u2019s church here in Cape Cullow,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n The Saint David\u2019s church hadn\u2019t been open for years. Jamieson couldn\u2019t remember the last time the church was open, let alone the last time he attended a service. He figured that part of the reason his parents left Cape Cullow and moved to the mainland was partly the nicer weather, but also to be more involved in the church. He had no ill will towards religion, but wasn\u2019t as involved as the rest of his family, who attended services before the church had closed when he was young.<\/p>\n \u201cNo openings in Cape Drees, huh?\u201d Jamieson quipped. He was unsure how to talk about the church and religion. He didn\u2019t know a whole lot. He thought that William might know more about this trail than he knew about God and Jesus.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no church in Cape Drees either,\u201d he began explaining, \u201cbut I thought it would be more worthwhile opening one here since there\u2019s more than three people who might attend.\u201d<\/p>\n Jamieson realized that William wasn\u2019t from the Cape Drees he had known, but the much more rural Cape Drees that was home to a population of six. Jamieson\u2019s grandfather was born in Cape Drees and he\u2019d always mention how he had claim to four acres of land there, bare as they were. The houses in Cape Drees looked like oversized sheds and the roads into the village were unpaved and only the only upkeep was done by the locals.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re from that<\/em> Cape Drees. Wow, I thought I lived in the middle of nowhere.\u201d Jamieson remarked.<\/p>\n The men reached the part of the trail that narrowed alongside the cliffs. Jamieson could make out the chain that attached itself to the side of the wall. He wouldn\u2019t be needing it, but William surely would.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, although I must admit that I don\u2019t remember much about it,\u201d William admitted.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd do you have any family left in the region?\u201d Jamieson asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not any more. Just me here now.\u201d<\/p>\n The cliffside narrowed and Jamieson led the way past the chained part of the cliff wall and grabbed onto the chain for good measure to show William the way. After they both passed the narrow part of the wall, they came to a clearing in the trail that began with wooden steps that were damp with sea water. The path ahead was broken up by short trails and steps that took them further up the hills and cliffs ahead. From the clearing the lighthouse was fully visible. On any given day the fog would roll in and hide the lighthouse from sight, leaving people wondering how long was left in the journey. About a third of the way in, William\u2019s fatigue began to set in but his spirits remained high.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the lighthouse I assume?\u201d he asked, stopping to take a moment to admire the beauty of the cliffside.<\/p>\n \u201cYep, that\u2019s the one,\u201d replied Jamieson. He hadn\u2019t walked this trail in a few years, probably not since all of his friends moved to the city. The trail was much muddier than he remembered, but the mud didn\u2019t bother him. Every part of the trail ahead held memories, all of them sentimental. He appreciated these memories more than the view ahead.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I expect you to attend a service when the church reopens?\u201d William asked.<\/p>\n Jamieson wanted to be polite but he didn\u2019t know a thing about the bible.<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t been to a service in about twenty years.\u201d That was the truth. His parents started making the twenty-five minute drive to St. Agatha for years. As Jamieson became a teenager, they stopped making him come along and continued to go on their own. As they got older, and the winters got harder on them, they stopped going.<\/p>\n The men began walking after taking a brief pause. The trail continued upwards towards the lighthouse and the waves crashing against the side of the cliff grew quieter with every step.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me Jamieson, what is your favourite thing to do here in Cape Cullow?\u201d<\/p>\n Jamieson wondered where this question was going.<\/p>\n \u201cHonestly, there isn\u2019t a whole lot to do here in the village. All of the fun is in the city. I enjoy doing something new, whatever that may be. Cape Cullow isn\u2019t home to a lot of new experiences.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFair enough,\u201d William replied. Jamieson was glad he didn\u2019t pry.<\/p>\n The trail became dryer and rockier the higher they went. Winds began to blow through their jackets. It became harder and harder to keep conversation through all the noise of the wind.<\/p>\n In the sky Jamieson spotted a bird floating in the wind, its wings spread. Its white underbelly and dark wings were unfamiliar to him. He stopped walking at the next platform atop of the set of stairs they were on to examine it.<\/p>\n The bird reversed its direction to turn its back to the wind. As it turned, it began to build momentum with the wind and pick up speed. Its downward swoop brought it close enough to Jamieson for him to see what it was. It\u2019s round, bright orange beak striped with black distinguished the bird from those that called the area home.<\/p>\n Jamieson had seen a puffin before, but never in Cape Cullow. He was used to seeing them in documentaries and had heard that they were native to other parts of the country, but never here.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was that?\u201d William shouted through the wind.<\/p>\n The puffin drifted away into the distance as Jamieson kept his gaze fixed upon it.<\/p>\n \u201cSomething new.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Trail Along the Road People only ever refer to a place as their hometown if they\u2019ve left it, Jamieson thought. This place was just home. People who moved away from Cape Cullow didn\u2019t return, save for family visits in the summer. In the winter, the snow gripped the sea soaked roads and quickly turned them into death traps.…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":4393,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4282","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4282","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4282"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4282\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4484,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4282\/revisions\/4484"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4393"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4282"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4282"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4282"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n42 Cabots Hill
\nCape CullowA0H 6Y6
\nDOB: 1956\/03\/17<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue25\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/16\/2019\/03\/leave-image-1.png\")
\nJamieson expected to meet Cape Cullow\u2019s newest resident after his shift. He used his lunch break to go home and get a different pair of boots for the trail. The boots allotted to him as a part of his uniform would\u2019ve been enough but the postal service expected him to keep them clean. The trail was about the furthest thing from clean given its closeness to the water at parts. He then drove his car to the top of the hill and walked to the bottom taking up the rest of his break.<\/p>\n