Photos in Bold: Searching for Roots on the Coast
Searching For Roots On The Coast
The Landscapes of Newfoundland and Labrador
BY JULIa BUCKLE
I often refer to Newfoundland and Labrador as “home,” but it’s a lot more complicated than that. It’s where my family is from, but I grew up outside of Canada, removed from these landscapes. Though I visited frequently as a child and into my adolescence, these spaces embody an odd tension between belonging and estrangement for me.
local fishing boats
L’anse-au-Diable, Labrador
The beaches, barrens and cliffs are central to my precious summer memories of growing up and are the birthplace of my love for the ocean and outdoors, but they lack the depth of connection that comes with truly inhabiting a space. Much of my attachment to the natural landscape here is borrowed from my parents’ or grandparents’ recounted experiences, which starkly contrast those of my suburban childhood.
Recently, I got the chance to revisit and photograph these spaces as an adult. While they are objectively beautiful, that doesn’t begin to describe their meaning. These spaces are imbued with special reverence, but they also evoke a sadness, a detachment from and a longing for my roots.
pop guiding our photography expedition
the coast of Labrador.
my father’s hometown
taken from Forteau hill, Labrador
The process of capturing these photos is as central to the pictures as the compositions themselves. Behind every shot, I’m accompanied by my grandparents or parents, as they recount stories tied to these places.
During my visit to Labrador, we drove along the coast, Pop in the front seat and Nan in the back. While I had destinations in my mind from my childhood memories, they also directed me to places they’ve always found striking or meaningful. As we sailed along the curves, rises and falls of the main, and only, highway cutting in and out of towns, they pointed to the houses of relatives and old friends, fishing spots, berry picking fields and backroads.
I spent countless hours on the beaches near Forteau as a child. The one pictured stretches along the right side of the town. Never deterred by the biting wind and chilly water, my most precious memories are lodged here, playing in the sand, splashing in the cold brooks and searching for sea glass and shells.
the old highway
Route 510, Labrador
Pothole-ridden dirt roads line the landscape just off of the highway in most places. This one is in better condition than most. A nuisance on the surface, each bounce echoes bumpy drives spent giggling in exhilaration as a child. Its novelty is a reminder of how little time I’ve spent on backcountry roads, as is the turning colour of the surrounding foliage. I’ve yet to see all the seasons here.
the view from Ship Island
Greenspond, Newfoundland
the landscape and playground in front of my dad’s childhood home
Forteau Bay, Labrador
a wharf with fishing boats
Greenspond, Newfoundland
Greenspond is where my mom’s father grew up. It’s no longer nearly as populated as it once was, bustling with a community supported by a fishing industry that has since collapsed. Hearing stories from my grandfather’s childhood and mother’s free-spirited summers here with her nan are bittersweet, tales entirely foreign to my upbringing. This is common along the coast, as populations age and move away leaving only stories in their wake. My grandmother’s community was entirely resettled and only the beach remains. Even so, I find it easy to imagine the activity and people that would have filled these spaces. Boats still dot the harbour.
Cabin entertainment, frozen in time
my grandparent’s peaceful getaway, Labrador
the historic barn accompanying Point Amour Lighthouse
Labrador
The pictured barn is where animals were kept by lighthouse keepers. Just to the right is a lighthouse I’ve climbed countless times as I grew up. While driving up the road to this lookout I listened to my grandparents’ stories of how oil was hauled from the port to the lighthouse and our relations to those who worked there over the years before it became automated and later a museum.
My memories here are overlaid with the lived history of the space, known to me only through my family.
a view of the mainland from Greenspond, Newfoundland
These seemingly endless cliffs along the water capture the true isolated beauty of the coast. When faced with these scenes, the vastness of space commands my focus, and it’s where I feel true freedom and peace. They embody a maritime life of interwoven recounted memories that I will never truly experience but find myself clinging to dearly. The manifestation of my borrowed belonging.
Ultimately, the charming natural landscapes that surround us overflow with emotional connections, histories and experiences. They are the context of our lives and the basis of our memories. They are the foundation of our identity, encompassing much more than what’s visible.
