Fogo to Salvage

     

There is a cape to round past Fogo, and as we enter Bonavista bay, the weather changes from Fogo-like to a light wind pushing us, and as it is due to turn against us later, we motorsail for a good while. Overall we have a faster-than-expected passage, and hove-to for a couple of hours in front of Salvage bay, waiting for the day to break.

Salvage is another very nice, classic refuge. We have the impression to discover those places as “remote” or even “untouched”, but as I go through a book about local maritime history, it becomes clear that all those remote places were not small at all a hundred years ago and were playing a big role in the maritime routes and even the economy. They were building ships in unexpected places, large vessels were calling in regularly (although unfrequently) even tiny coves like RoundHarbour.

The boat here is called LastOne, probably a reference to the dying fishing coastal fleet, or at leat to the owner: all fisherman we see are well into their fifties (or more). A few young crew on offshore boats, but rare. In villages,  we hardly see any kids.

 

I ended up in there driven by my quest to connect to the living, not the dead: I mean, searching for good cellphone reception. "That's Clew bay ! "said Mairéad.

This is the view from the well-fenced Anglican cemetery. Even small villages like Salvage have (had, I should say) at least two churches (generally Anglican and some other protestant denomination) and matching cemeteries (or, as explained in another museum, one for Anglicans and one for all the other). From a few artifacts that I keep seeing in the local museums, like portraits of the English royalty,  sashes from the Orange Order, maps showing the “original” settlers, etc, it seems there was much more identity politics (strife, even ?) than one would think.