With a greater clarity 
of the knowledge of the area, 
we walked from the church 
a little farther inland  
to what used to be 
the post office and 
the school that our mother attended, 
the skeletal shells of 
which were still standing precariously. 
From there, stopping periodically 
to eat some edible berries, 
we struggled behind our cousins 
through the heavily brush and 
shrub covered footpaths to 
Black Duck Cove to visit 
the cemetery where our grandmother, 
whom we never knew, was buried. 
This sacred ground was 
in very bad condition, 
with many badly corroded gravestones 
buried under brush and long grass. 
After searching for a few minutes 
in the midst of tangled vegetation, 
we found our grandmother's 
resting place beside which 
we paid our respects. 
It was a good thing that 
our cousins stayed with us, 
as the footpaths that traversed 
the island, were overgrown with brush. 
It would have been 
virtually impossible for my brother 
and me, to walk to 
the other communities on the island.
We made our way back 
to the church on the hill 
and descended to the boat 
for a half hour boat ride 
to the other side of the island. 
Sailing through a number of islets, 
we arrived at what 
remains of the small village 
of Traytown, where our grandparents 
had lived. There, we met 
some more long lost relatives 
at a small cottage. 
One, a bit of an eccentric, 
who now lives in Toronto 
but takes summer refuge in Traytown, 
showed us the remnants of what 
had once been our grandparents'house. 
Beside these ruins, was 
the still flourishing cluster 
of wild rose bushes, planted 
there many years ago 
by our step grandmother. 
A lot of people, many whom 
were more lost cousins, 
continually dropped in or 
gathered on the porch outside.
After a cup of tea and 
some more chitchat (small talk) 
and some comic relief,
we made our departure 
for the mainland. On the way, 
we passed other inlets with 
ghost communities on Ireland's Eye. 
To add to the excitement 
of that special day, 
my brother spotted a humpback 
whale quite close, between 
the boat and the island.
Our visit to Ireland's Eye 
was a bittersweet experience for us. 
On the one hand, there was 
a sense of being at 
the very place where our relatives 
and ancestors had lived, 
worked and played. 
On the other hand, there was 
a sense of agonizing loss 
of what were once thriving 
communities on the island. 
It was difficult to reconcile 
the past with the present, 
after a gap of fifty years 
of chronic degeneration of 
the communities. Today, the area 
is notorious for smuggling. 
However, our mission was invaluable 
in that we were able to 
find out more about ourselves.
The entire expedition to 
Newfoundland was a major highlight 
in each of our lives. 
It tugged at our emotions 
at every turn. The people
of Newfoundland, especially those 
of genetic connection, couldn't do 
enough for us. It was 
really like coming home, 
but then, that has always been 
the nature of Newfoundland courtesy,
even to non-Newfoundlanders. 
It was reassuring to see that 
the Newfoundland charm has 
transcended time. It has 
endured so many changes 
since Confederation in 1949. 
My brother and I, eternally, 
will be Newfoundlanders and hope 
to go down home more often 
in the years to come.