Getting to the little cove was not always easy, as we ourselves did not always have a vehicle and even when we did, our Dad was working away from home. I know sometimes I could catch a ride with Din when he would stop by our house on his way to or from St. John’s. Sometimes I would get a ride with some of the people from the cove who would come to Carbonear on business or for medical reasons. Several times over the years I got a ride on the mail truck. The mail truck would stop in Carbonear on its route down the shore to Old Perlican. On most of these occasions I would ride in the back of the truck with the mailbags and parcels.

Back in those days, the road down the shore was gravel all the way. I remember one time, myself and another fellow from Carbonear who had relatives in Bay de Verde, took the trip together. His grandmother had been my nan’s sister, but she had passed away by this time. We travelled in the back of the truck, which was something like Din’s, with a tarp for the roof. As you can imagine, it got pretty dusty in the back of this truck and it was dark, as the tarp was pulled all the way over the back and tied down on the tailgate. The only time we saw any light was when the truck stopped at the Post Offices along the way. The driver would tell us the name of the place and we would search for the mailbag with the place name on it. Sometimes there were parcels as well. We couldn’t see each other in the back of the truck because it was too dark and dusty.

I seem to remember we paid a dollar for the ride to Old Perlican. When we got there, another man came up from Grates Cove and collected the mail for the little cove. My mom told me many times that her grandmother carried the mail on her back from Old Perlican to the cove for many years – she even got a pension of a dollar a month when she finally gave it up. I can’t remember the man’s name who took the mail to Grates Cove, but I remember he had a small black car at the time and he would drop me off when he stopped with the mail. I doubt if all that would be considered wise, legal or safe today, but back then it certainly worked for me. I never realized or imagined, sitting in the back of that truck on top of the mailbags, that I would spend thirty-four years of my life working for the Post Office.

On several other occasions I would ride in the cab of the mail truck because at that time there was a wooden box for the back with an overhead door. The road was still gravel all the way and the driver wasn’t too concerned with the speed limit. I didn’t get to pick out the mailbags on these occasions, except sometimes the driver would get me to round up the parcels which had shifted around in the back of the truck. It was all a pretty good adventure for a young fellow at that time of life. Years later I would hitch a ride with the guys who hauled the mail from St. John’s to Harbour Grace when I was working in the Postal Plant for six years. I would help them load the mail at the different stops along the way and then help unload the truck when we got to the plant.

I mentioned earlier in this story that sometimes I would catch a ride with some of the people from the cove who would come to Carbonear for various reasons. I remember one time Felix’s mom and her sister-in-law came to Carbonear. I returned to the cove with them in the taxi and it was one this occasion that I had my first – and only – sighting of the Little People when I saw them in a garden beside the road somewhere between Perry’s Cove and Kingston. I have often looked for them on trips up and down the shore in the years since, but never seen them. But that’s a story for another time.

Years after the mail truck rides, I was able to get a ride on the Squires bus which travelled from Old Perlican to St. John’s for many years. On a Friday evening in summer I would walk downtown Carbonear, along Water Street until I reached the foot of Bond Street where the local movie theatre was located. It was called the Bond Theatre, and we would watch matinees there on Saturday afternoons for fifteen cents. After the show was over, we would run all the way home, a mile or more, to watch Wild Bill Hickok on television. It starred Guy Madison as Wild Bill and Andy Divine as his sidekick Jingles – see how I get carried away sometimes with my stories? After all, what does any of this have to do with getting to the cove? Anyway, the Squires bus could only make one stop in Carbonear at that time because the Fleetline bus had a franchise for St. John’s to Carbonear. Many years later I would use this bus to get home on weekends when I worked at the Postal Plant in St. John’s.

I would get the bus at the foot of Bond Street, which was unofficially called Bond Theatre Hill because it was very steep. The bus which was usually loaded with people moved very slowly up this hill. It made many stops along the way, dropping people of near their homes while never leaving the main road. Sometimes it would also pick up passengers who were going further down the shore. The bus would usually go down to the bottom of Old Perlican if it had passengers for that area. If not, it would turn in the Trinity Shore road where the hospital was located. The home base for the bus was Sibleys Cove, and it was disappointing for me when there were no passengers for the lower end of Perlican which meant I had to walk an extra mile just to get to the road that led to the little cove, a distance of three miles from Old Perlican. All this walking was done in complete darkness.

Mom would have packed some grocery items in my suitcase with my clothes. These usually consisted of, but were not limited to, several cans of Carnation milk, at least one 2kg bag of sugar, a seven pound bag of Robin Hood Flour, at least one box of raisins, sometimes a slab of salt pork or a container of Crisco shortening. I had to change hands many times on those walks, all the while navigating a minefield of freshly laid cow patties in the darkness. Needless to say, I was not always successful in my efforts to avoid these patties. Many times I had to walk into Nan’s house in my stocking feet and leave my shoes or sneakers outside to be cleaned the next day.

Being in the little cove meant a lot to me in those days, as it still does. Now I can drive in my own car and avoid travelling in the dark, even though now there’s no worry about the minefield.

-Cyril Griffin
New Perlican, NL