And you thought the houses were
the only colourful things around here.
We are surrounded by a kaleidoscopic palette of music, architecture, and imagination. It’s in the songs we sing, the stories we tell – it’s even in the names of the towns we live in.
Truth be told, there’s a smile to this place – a little grin that breathes in every bay, bight, and tickle. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s not that we’re against grid plans and committees. It’s just that with places like Comfort Cove, Happy Adventure, and Ha Ha Bay we tend to see things a little bit differently.
It’s not about where you are.
It’s about how where you are makes you feel.
The shoreline of Conception Bay reads like a love poem. But then again, with a name like that, what else would you expect?
Standing at the lighthouse – a sense of smiling satisfaction seems to sneak up on you. And all of a sudden, you want for nothing.
Like you’ve been struck with an arrow plucked straight from the quiver of the chubby little cherub himself.
And it doesn’t end there. You’ll stumble upon Heart’s Desire, and Heart’s Delight - and if you’re looking to wind down, there’s no better place than Little Heart’s Ease.
Around here, you never know
where you’ll find yourself.
There’s no formula for how we name our places. But there’s probably a recipe.
With places like Bacon Cove, how would you not? After all, everyone loves bacon.
If you’re watching your waistline, there’s always Cape Onion and Bakeapple Bight. Or, if it’s something more substantial you’re after, why not Bread and Cheese Island or Hill O’Chips?
And, when you’ve had your fill, why not have a mug-up in Tea Cove – or maybe Coffee Cove, if you prefer?
Despite places with such curious names
as Noggin Cove, Joe Batt’s Arm, and Clown’s Cove,
they tend to pale in comparison to
those who live there.
Give up? Our map.
A place that the Flat Earth Society refers to as one of the four corners of the world. So, if you’re looking to get away from it all, the edge of the earth isn’t a bad place to start.
Just ask Jerry. Out on the Port-au-Port Peninsula, people have been standing on his nose for centuries.
There’s no end to the anatomy of this place – you could stare straight into Ireland’s Eye if you like, and on a clear day, you may just catch her winking at you.
And to think some places
have nomenclature committees.
If you wanted proof, all you have to do is pass through Pushthrough or go by Come By Chance.
Row upon row of houses precariously perched – clinging to the rocks that are the foundation of Signal Hill. As good a place as any to stop and recharge.
Named by the English, this steep mountainous decline is like rocket fuel for wind, and has been known to make life a little more interesting for fishers and explorers of all stripes. But people here aren’t swayed by the wind. They might call it Blow Me Down, but all it ever does is lift you up.
