This blog is about part 1 of my 20,000+ mile car-camping trip with my dogs from DC to Alaska via Labrador. Part 1, in 2011, was to the end of the road in northeastern North America in Labrador and then on to Quebec and Ontario, 7609 miles. Part 2, which took place in 2012, picked up where Part 1 left off in Ontario and was supposed to extend to Banff and Jasper National Parks in the Canadian Rockies, but Leben, my male German shepherd, became paralyzed on the trip so we cut it short. We will finish the journey in 2013, when we will return to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska.

Day 9, Sunday, August 28, The end of the road in the northeast

Here I am with Leben and Erde at the end of the road in the northeast on august 28th You cannot drive any further in the northeast than this location, except in the small town here, Northwest River. This building is now a museum, but at one time was the exact location of a Hudson Bay Company outpost here. It was also the departure point for Hubbard and Wallace's 1903 fated journey, explained in The Lure of the Labrador Wild


To see where this place is located, enter Northwest River, Labrador into google Earth or Maps.

Ed

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2 comments:

  1. AnonymousSeptember 14, 2011 at 9:17 AM

    Very nice photo. Interesting commentary.

    Ellyn

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  2. AnonymousSeptember 14, 2011 at 10:19 AM

    THE WORSHIP OF NATURE

    by: John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

    HE harp at Nature's advent strung
    Has never ceased to play;
    The song the stars of morning sung
    Has never died away.

    And prayer is made, and praise is given,
    By all things near and far;
    The ocean looketh up to heaven,
    And mirrors every star.

    Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
    As kneels the human knee,
    Their white locks bowing to the sand,
    The priesthood of the sea!

    They pour their glittering treasures forth,
    Their gifts of pearl they bring,
    And all the listening hills of earth
    Take up the song they sing.

    The green earth sends its incense up
    From many a mountain shrine;
    From folded leaf and dewy cup
    She pours her sacred wine.

    The mists above the morning rills
    Rise white as wings of prayer;
    The altar-curtains of the hills
    Are sunset's purple air.

    The winds with hymns of praise are loud,
    Or low with sobs of pain,--
    The thunder-organ of the cloud,
    The dropping tears of rain.

    With drooping head and branches crossed
    The twilight forest grieves,
    Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost
    From all its sunlit leaves.

    The blue sky is the temple's arch,
    Its transept earth and air,
    The music of its starry march
    The chorus of a prayer.

    So Nature keeps the reverent frame
    With which her years began,
    And all her signs and voices shame
    The prayerless heart of man.

    Ellyn

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