Field Note: A Four-Wheeler and a Conversation

Some places still have a way of slowing people down.

This morning, I was walking the Lighthouse Trail with the dogs. It was Monday, so there was hardly anyone around. The girls were off leash, racing through the grass and exploring every scent they could find.

Then I heard the hum of a four-wheeler.

A young man stopped beside us. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Instead of driving on, he shut off the engine and started talking.

The dogs, delighted by the unexpected visitor, bounded over to say hello. I explained that they’re rescues. Sometimes they can be a little enthusiastic at first, but underneath it all they’re gentle, affectionate souls.

We chatted about dogs, then about where we lived. I mentioned that my daughter, Vic, has a mobile dog-grooming business based just across the bay in Bay Roberts. He smiled and told me his family has an eleven-year-old Golden Retriever who might appreciate a visit one day.

One conversation led to another, as they often do here.

He told me his name was Lucas and that he lives in Port de Grave. We talked about Newfoundland, about growing up around hunting and fishing, and I mentioned that my daughters had loved that part of life.

“My dad fishes,” he said.

It turned out that was something of an understatement. His father is a commercial fisherman who spends six to eight hours a day on the water.

“But I can’t do it,” Lucas admitted with a laugh. “I get too seasick.”

Instead, he’d trained as an accountant so he could help the family business from shore.

I found that quietly beautiful.

Not every child follows exactly in a parent’s footsteps. Sometimes they find another way to carry the same responsibility.

When we wished each other well and he drove off, I realized I’d forgotten to ask for a photograph. For a moment, I was disappointed.

Then I thought perhaps that was the point.

Not every meaningful encounter needs to become content. Some are simply reminders that if we leave enough space in our day, people will often stop, say hello, and share a little piece of their lives.

Maybe that’s one of the gifts of Newfoundland.

People still stop.
People still talk.
And if you’re willing to listen, the stories are everywhere.