Bear Cove
Under construction, please be patient!
Community of Bear Cove
Bear Cove is a cabin community situated on the Eastern shore of Newfoundland's White Bay. The community is one of 307 similar small towns subject to the controversial government resettlement programs of the mid 20th century. Having been established in the mid-1800's, all 170 permanent residents had left Bear Cove just over a century later.
While relative to many original Bear Cove inhabitants, my family did not come to know the community as a part of their home until much later. Elsie Hewitt and Manuel Decker, my Nan and Pop, purchased their cabin in the 1990's. Since then, they have integrated into the tight-knit cabin community - a mix of original settlers who kept their properties in the family and new faces from the nearby towns of Westport, Seal Cove, Baie Verte, and so on.
Although I grew up in Nova Scotia, I have a lot of cherished childhood memories at the cabin in Bear Cove. Much time was spent playing outdoors in my cousins' 'rock house' before coming inside to apply cream to our stinging nettle - pronounced "needle" - rashes. As I've gotten older, I prefer to spend my time in boat, with my Pop. Less itchy that way. I will always be an outsider to the community and I know that. I do, however, want to share my experience of the community - with the help of my Nan's masterful storytelling.
Images can be enlarged by clicking on their thumbnails.
The many views of Bear Cove...
The community is accessible via road, though it's a rough one. Following the NL 411 or Westport Road, a turn onto Bear Cove Road makes for a slow and bumpy journey by car. Many enter via quad or skidoo for a quicker ride. Cell service cuts off quite early but the views from the up-down-and-around hills are worth it - especially the last slope before my family's cabins.
Either way, even having a road is quite the improvement from the distant past. Trails connected the closest communities, and Nan tells of folks who would walk from Westport all the way into Bear Cove, but I believe most early settlers would travel by boat. For short trips between points in the community, such as Back Cove, there was a path built up of rock, suitable for hauling cart.
This isolation led to a slower way of life, not unique to any part of Newfoundland. Should something happen on the other side of the Baie Verte penninsula, you would only find out if someone walked in and let your community know. The cabin still served as voluntary isolation until recently, as members of the community have opted to purchase sateillite internet services.
...and the nearby Back Cove and Government Wharf site
Back Cove and its beach serve as Bear Cove's 'twin community.' While the difference between communities is trivial now, with cabins sprawled all along the distinguishing fork in the road, their division was likely a product of difficulty of land travel and reliance on the coast.
The old Government Wharf site can be accessed by foot, should you continue in the direction of Bear Cove Road out toward the point. Pop had himself set on clearing the path a couple of years ago, but I'm not sure he made it all the way. The image, Bear Cove Inlet, shows the view at the peak of this path - a place I only made it to once in my very sedentary life.
Before purchasing the cabin, my Nan and Pop would come out to Bear Cove for herring fishing and berry picking around the Government Wharf site. Nan tells of an old, wrote-off home at the head of this path with one 'salvageable' room, making it the perfect overnight site for Pop and his three kids.
The Decker family cabins...
From boat, looking in toward Bear Cove, my family's cabins can be seen in their all-new coats of paint. In yellow, with the low roof, is the original cabin purchased by my family 30-odd years ago. While original to the community, Pop upgraded the cabin to such an extent that next to nothing from its initial form remains. He also built the stage, the garage (in green), the boathouse (in blue), the shed (in orange), and my cousins' new cabin (in red). The largest, light blue cabin is still under construction, as a joint effort between my Pop and my uncle.
My Pop is no stranger to building, evidently. The Deckers' first home in Sop's Arm was re-constructed using the pieces of a Bear Cove home they had purchased in 1968. Just prior to complete resettlement, Nan's sister was living in the community. The two were staying with her while de-constructing this home when my Nan went into labour with her first, my mother. She says it was a beautiful night - she saw a fox out in the garden before deciding to call it and climb into the truck cab with her husband, sister, and their midwife, making way for Baie Verte over that old road.
...and other family landmarks
This oddly-shaped rock at the point below the new Decker cabins was affectionately named "Whaley" by my younger brother. Each visit, he takes a photo beside his familiar friend. I admit, I do too.
Iconic and overgrown, a "vehicle graveyard" sits just outside my family's cabins. I believe the snowmobile was used to bring children to school, or simply to travel within the community, while the cars were brought by a keen man looking to fix them up - but here they sit today. It would be interesting to identify and date these vehicles, as well as solidify the narrative of this feature.
The community
The old community schoolhouse functions as a very active community hall. Having recently received an add-on and outhouse upgrades, the hall is welcoming enough to hold the yearly Bear Cove Day celebrations as well as private events. My favourite part of the hall is when Eric Blanchard entertains. Not only did he play my aunt's wedding in 1994, but he played her daughter's wedding as well, 28 years later in this very hall.
Parties at the hall can last until the sun comes up. Nan attributes the liveliness of the community to the isolated ways of before. Prior to radio or TV, entertainment was socialization - whether that was "going on the road" (walking the community as a way of meeting and courting) or simply popping in to a neighbour's home for the whole day, uninvited but welcome nonetheless.
Beside the schoolhouse was the old Anglican church. Missionaries from abroad travelled Newfoundland in typical missionary fashion, set on saving souls and the like. In Memoir of the Life and Episcopate of Edward Feild, author Tucker describes the community in 1859:
"At Bear Cove the deplorable ignorance of the poor people most anxious to be taught is almost incredible, and must have depressed the spirits of all who witnessed it."
His opinions of the community, while patronizing and not unique, can be read in paragraph 10, here. St. Paul's Anglican church was resettled with the community of Bear Cove, by way of water, in August of 1970. Floating structures was a common practice at the time, especially as families were being forced out of their homes and essentially asked to start anew. So the Anglican congregation hauled the church down the steep hill of Bear Cove beach, onto a raft, and all the way out to Baie Verte - where it still stands today.
The Anglican church describes the day of the float as "a very still day" with "not a single sill [...] wet," while my Nan remembers it differently. According to her, a fisherman was hauling his nets in on the very foggy day. One of his nets was stuck, and as the fisherman let out every curse word he knew, the church emerged from the fog. I'd say buddy had the bejeezus scared out of him.
While the church was resettled, the cemetery remains - right beside the hall. I remember playing in it as a child, my mom telling me the berries grow best there as they have enough fertilizer to feed on. The above image shows it quite overgrown, however residents tend to the graves when possible. Amazingly, the cemetery has been indexed almost in its entirety, which can be accessed here.
Alongside the schoolhouse and church were at least two stores in the community's heyday, selling dry goods and essentials. I find myself struck by this archived photograph of Bear Cove residents in 1960, gathering for the launch of the S.S. Northern Ranger.
A taste of tradition
My best memories of Bear Cove are learning to do things - or getting to experience things - that my pampered mainlander life did not afford me. While I don't think I have a particular talent for it, I love to be out in boat with my Pop - so much so that it became my 2025 New Year's resolution to catch a fish with him (and so I did!). Years before that, I got to go squid jigging and came back covered in what Nan would call "squid shit." Another trip, I watched Pop fish mackerel. He was worried I would hurt myself on the special lines but I was just amazed at his ability to spot the fish in the first place.
Just recently I learned to pick mussels on a trip with my friend Emily, who used her Acadian knowledge and absolute love for mussels to scout out the best feed from the bountiful cove. Sometimes I only come back from a fishing trip with pictures of myself and a butt-ugly sculpin - pronounced "scope-lin" - especially when I go out with my uncle (it's a loving tease). Other times I go out into the bush with my Mom and her sister and watch them come alive with a sort of knowledge I didn't know they had... not because I doubted them but because we don't engaged in these types of activities at home.
I am so fortunate to have had the opportunity to make these memories and absorb this knowledge. This theme of isolation still plagues the island, not due to difficulty of travel but to cost. There are times when a flight to Tokyo costs less than a flight to Deer Lake, and the 20 hour ferry ride is not always worth the risk of winter driving. To engage in these activities as an outsider, as a tourist essentially, makes me reflect on those who relied on these traditional means of subsistence.
Nan gives me the example of the poorest people in her town of Westport, the fishermen. Paying for fish was unheard of, she tells. Rather than community care, she understood this as exploitation - the fishermen were still fed, but their catches were taken for pennies - turned around by merchants selling a single smoked salmon for two dollars. She tells me a story of an uncle, lost while birding in Bear Cove, only to be rescued by the only person in town, my Pop. When Pop brought the uncle back to Westport by boat, the town was prepared for his death. It's just a completely different life, and I'm forever grateful for the comforts I have been given.