I was going to make it home this Christmas. Even as I saw the infection numbers rising for New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario; I was committed to just making it happen. I was going to struggle with the ethical question of whether it was all worth the risk of bringing COVID home to my parents, but I knew I could sleep in my car and avoid almost all human interaction.

An extra wrinkle was the Atlantic Bubble, where I would have to quarantine by myself for 14 days upon my return to Newfoundland. Unwilling to spend the money on a motel, I saw no problem in stockpiling food down in my basement, purchasing a toilet seat lid for a bucket, and sleeping down there on an air mattress in the darkness as snow drifted and covered the small windows. Heck, I could even pop out and do the snow shovelling and wood splitting for Isy without violating quarantine!

Again, there was no way I wasn't spending Christmas in Ontario.

The number of infected peoples continued to skyrocket, while my parents started thinking it was an even worse idea to come home and also not worth it as they were in total lockdown. Isy also kept finding holes in my plan to spend 14 days in the basement quarantining, like how the dog would hear me and refuse to settle down. This left me pondering options like whether we could somehow disinfect the dog after I visited him outside.

In the end, I gave up the fight and accepted spending the holidays in Newfoundland.

So I bought Isy some jarred moose for Christmas, we had a lovely turkey dinner, and a Christmas miracle came true in being able to ride a skatepark on December 25th in Western Newfoundland. I even got to ride on Christmas Day without my Mom telling me that people will think I have no family if they see me riding on Christmas Day (which always happens in Belle River) haha.

There still weren't a whole lot of COVID cases in Newfoundland, due to it being an island and how you couldn't come here unless it was to deal with a family death, or if you were a trucker bringing goods.

So while we didn't see very many people over Christmas, it wasn't entirely because people were scared of seeing one another due to COVID numbers. Some people were open to seeing others, so by the end of the little Christmas to New Year's window, Isy told me to go out to St. John's and visit Rosie.

Along the way across the island, I took my time and checked off a few things from the to-do list, like this abandoned pig farm in Gander.

This old piggery has an incredible tie-in to provincial history as it was managed by the legendary Newfoundland politician Joey Smallwood (and his brother Reggie) in the 1940s.

The Coles Notes for Joseph Smallwood go that he was a splendid orator with a great sense of pride in Newfoundland, and a firm belief that leaving Britain and joining Canada was the best option for the province. He attended the meetings in Great Britain which weighed the choice of independence, staying with Britain, joining Canada, or joining America - and his public speaking skills were on display as he sold many on the benefits of joining Canada since the meetings were broadcasted over the radio.

Newfoundland joined Canada in 1949 with Smallwood elected as the first premier, a position he would hold for the next 23 years. Smallwood brought industrialization to Newfoundland as he tried to diversify the economy. And while many of the projects backed by German businessmen like the Glovertown Mill or the Holyrood Shoe Factory would ultimately fail, Stephenville's paper mill lasted into the 2000s, Come-By-Chance's oil refinery is still open, and the Churchill Falls Hydroelectric Plant is chugging along (although Churchill Falls is doing great for Quebec and not NL, since NL sold the power at a set price until 2041 - a price that's 1/10th below today's market rate).

Smallwood's government was also responsible for the resettlement program, which encouraged people to move to "growth centres" and worked to reduce the ~1400 spread out communities that existed at the time. Some Newfoundlanders have problems with how the government tricked them into agreeing to leave, but condensing the population allowed the government to more effectively spend needed money on hospitals, roads, and hydro facilities. There's a reason a lot of outport towns were connected by road in the 1950s and 1960s.

Smallwood left behind the pig farm upon his entry into politics, then a man named Cy Oates took over the operation. Oates would close the farm in 1953, when he decided to move on and open a tavern nearby.

Amazingly, with the history of Joey Smallwood running this piggery, I only found out about it because someone posted about a guy looting bricks and selling them on facebook marketplace, lol.

I was also excited to explore the nearby Gander Heritage Trails, which highlight the former site of the town of Gander. It's here right next to the airport that a small community existed, but once the war was over, the decision was made to move the townsite to a safer, more desirable distance away from the airport.

I've always known about some of these old roads, but in recent years a local heritage committee has erected signboards, cleared brush, and researched the history of the area. Nowadays you can walk down a wide street with apple trees and birches beside you, then see something like the site of Goodyear's Humber Stores, the first self-serve grocery store in the province.

I really enjoyed the little bits of foundation sticking out here and there, which used to belong to things like the local school, base chapel, hospital, and train station.

There was more than just some foundations though, as I knew about a hole in the ground that led into the basement of a building demolished long ago.

Not only that, this space was previously the basement below one of Gander's old hockey arenas.

The earliest mention I can find of hockey being played indoors at Gander was in 1949, when a visiting Corner Brook team came to play Gander in the indoor rink at Hangar 12 on the American side of the army town.

The basement I was in today originally belonged to the Foss Avenue Drill Hall, where after the war, Ganderites raised money and converted the hall into Gander's first proper indoor hockey rink with artificial ice. This was in 1956.

Locals would continue to play at this amazing rink - the Gander Gardens - until 1963, when they moved into a new Gander Gardens in the modern day townsite. (That 1963 Gander Gardens has since been replaced by another new rink in 2000, but the 1963 building still stands and is home to Cohen's Home Furniture).

There wasn't a whole heck of a lot down here, especially for someone who's been in the basement of standard military buildings like this previously. Still though, I had my boots on and it was warm enough, so I sloshed around and looked for any sign that this used to be the town's hockey rink.

Even as I failed to find anything, I had to laugh at how of all the foundations and demolished building sites that could be left standing out in these woods, that the hockey rink was the one that's accessible. Not going to lie, I was pretty excited when I first read that information online.

I have no idea when the former Foss Avenue Drill Hall/Gander Gardens I was torn down, or if anything will ever happen with this foundation. If it was up to me, I'd recreate the whole rink, complete with that splendid India Beer scoreboard.

Next, I took advantage of how there's actually a Harvey's in Gander, even if I've tried to ask for things like tzatziki or garlic mayo or Buffalo sauce, only to be told that they don't have "fancy sauces" at that location, haha.

Afterwards it was onward thru Terra Nova National Park and Port Saunders and over to Shoal Harbour near Clarenville. Growing a bit tired of the skateparks in Grand Falls-Windsor and Gander, Shoal Harbour was a refreshing change of pace as they're all metal ramps made by a local shipyard and they grind so smoothly.

Night would fall and it was still plenty warm enough to ride outside in Shoal Harbour on December 29th. Life was good.

The World Junior hockey tournament was going on, which I usually have interest in, but since it's during the holidays I always miss it because I'm so busy and/or stranded away from my parents house.

With sunset around 5pm and not much else to do but go to the hotel, I decided to go watch my Czechs play and check off one of the old dive bars in Clarenville.

Located in a grubby strip mall corner with doors that lead either to the pub or to cheap pizza, this was Flannigan's Irish Pub.

Online this pub showed promise, except that I opened the door and suddenly realized that they had completely sterilized Flannigan's away from what you see online.

Quite the reward for working up the courage to bring my awkward ass inside here - and that's before I mention approaching the bar and seeing the Czechs were losing 7-0 to the Americans!

I guess it's not their fault that the Czechs aren't developing players like they used to. I should instead focus on giving them credit for actually having on such an obscure game, especially in a province that frequently has The Weather Network playing at their sports bars and pubs.

In the same parking lot but over at a different strip mall, I bet George's would have been better than the modern-day Flannigan's. Sadly, George's was permanently closed and on a more recent trip, I saw that these signs have been completely removed.

So I retired to my hotel early, which was alright since I was treating myself to the $109/night Clarenville Inn - which even came with a Kenny Rogers Roasters Chicken franchise!

"It's the Chicken Roaster sign, Jerry. It's right across from my window."

I was about to add "why was there a spring-loaded timer knob for a red light in the bathroom?" to the mysteries of life, but apparently you turn this light on before taking a shower and then have a warm light to hang out under while you dry.

I turned it on mostly to smirk at the ridiculousness of the room bathed in creepy red light.

In addition to a fast food warming light and balcony, the Clarenville Inn also had some great artwork specialized just for me. This was called something like "Picking Berries At The Old Homestead" - which may be the only time you could convince to pick any serious amount of berries.

Afterwards I hung out on the balcony and watched the highway lights cut through the fog and drizzle, before turning the TV to some dumb show where a financial advisor gave couples relationship advice.

Continue to Part 2...