Copying Battycatters
Yes, he's really out there doing what you see. Your eyes aren't decieving you ... and I haven't either by using Photoshop. If you don't believe me, I actually have some video, too. :-) If you check it out, you'll see this is the same area shown in yesterday's upload.
Here in Newfoundland, this is what is known as Copying. Copying Battycatters, to be more precise. Although, considering Newfoundland's great oral tradition and use of phonetic spelling, you are just as likely ... depending on where you grew up on this island ... to spell and/or pronounce it Batticatter, Ballycatter, Ballicatter, or perhaps some other mutated alteration. But, however you write or pronounce it, it's just another name for those pans of ice you see here in this photograph and in the one I uploaded yesterday.
Some of these larger ice pans can support a person's weight ... and, in the case of some pans, the weight of quite a few persons, actually. Some, however, are quite small ... tiny pieces, really ... and are definitely not safe to stand on. If you tried, you'd soon find yourself in very cold water. Very cold water, indeed! But, if you want to get from one pan to another, you have to utilize those tiny pieces of ice to support your weight temporarily ... very temporarily, mind you. To do so, you have to run very quickly from pan to pan ... touching down on some of those smaller pieces only momentarily... with one foot only. This process of running very quickly from pan to pan is what what has become known here in Newfoundland as Copying.
However, I have my own opinion about the term ... always have ... and if you had been with me on the evening I shot this, you would most likely agree with me. You see, in many Newfoundland outports of yesteryear this practice was a way one could keep oneself occupied and amused ... in the words of Ray Guy, a local author, political satirist, TV personality, and wit ... one of the 'juvenille outharbour delights'. However, it was seldom done alone and one person ... usually the bravest ... or most foolhardy, however you want to look at it ( in this case here, that would be this guy) ... set the pace and the path and it was up to the rest to follow him ... or Copy what he was doing. On the evening I took this, there were three or four of these young lads doing that very thing ... following one another across the width of this small bay and sometimes out quite a ways into it!
Now, in days gone by, this practice had a utilitarian or practical function as well as one of amusement or distraction from boredom. You see, long before the meddling of the Bridgette Bardot's, Paul McCartney's, Paul Watson's and other uninformed CFA's, sealing was a way of life in this province and this practice of copying ice pans as a young boy ... dangerous though it no doubt was ... could hone the skill that would keep you alive while sealing at the Front.
Anyway, I grew up on a part of this island where this scene of an ice filled bay or harbour was a rarity ... an extreme rarity! I saw it only once to be exact. The ice drifted into the harbour and filled it completely for two days until a strong North West wind blew it out again. One thing sticks in my mind about that incident, though. I was fifteen or sixteen at the time and had just got home from school. I was standing near a neighbor's slip ... a boardwalk raised on shores (pilings ) and rock pounds leading to his fishing stage ... looking at the ice ... a magical sight for someone who had never ever seen it before. Now, I never said it didn't get cold there. It did! And the landwash was rimmed with a shelf of slick ice formed by salt water beating on the rocks and then freezing. That shelf was about three and a half to four feet above the harbour water which was filled with all this enticing ice.
As I stood there leaning on the rail of the slip, a young girl of about twelve or thirteen came walking out the road leading her sister, who was about six or seven, by the hand. She walks down towards the landwash and this ice shelf. Have you ever stood by watching as something is about to happen, but thinking almost as it's happening that no way is it going to? Well, that was me. This misguided girl goes out to the edge of the ice shelf takes her sister by the arms and drops her down to the ice pans below! I could hardly believe my eyes. I should have said "dropped her down to the ice pans below .... supposedly" because she didin't end up on an ice pan .... but up to her armpits in icy water instead! Her sister starts to scream. The young girl is screaming and next thing I know I'm laying on the ice, reaching down, grabbing her upstretched arms and pulling her up over the ice shelf to safety. By this time, another neighour's wife, (my godmother, actually) who had watched all this unfold from her kitchen window had arrived on the scene and sent the two of them packing off home. They weren't her children, by the way.
So, that was my only encounter as a young man with battycatters ... that's what we called them, by the way. Now, the only time I play in the ice is with my Argo. :-) Although, I must say, I was very tempted to give it a try on some of the pieces nearer shore. Better judgement prevailed, though. :-)
P.S. I have quite a few shots of this guy ... some much closer than this ... but his face is visible. Think I'm going to have to start carrying around a model release form with me. :-) I just might put a couple of them up, though, and blur out the face.
Copying Battycatters
Yes, he's really out there doing what you see. Your eyes aren't decieving you ... and I haven't either by using Photoshop. If you don't believe me, I actually have some video, too. :-) If you check it out, you'll see this is the same area shown in yesterday's upload.
Here in Newfoundland, this is what is known as Copying. Copying Battycatters, to be more precise. Although, considering Newfoundland's great oral tradition and use of phonetic spelling, you are just as likely ... depending on where you grew up on this island ... to spell and/or pronounce it Batticatter, Ballycatter, Ballicatter, or perhaps some other mutated alteration. But, however you write or pronounce it, it's just another name for those pans of ice you see here in this photograph and in the one I uploaded yesterday.
Some of these larger ice pans can support a person's weight ... and, in the case of some pans, the weight of quite a few persons, actually. Some, however, are quite small ... tiny pieces, really ... and are definitely not safe to stand on. If you tried, you'd soon find yourself in very cold water. Very cold water, indeed! But, if you want to get from one pan to another, you have to utilize those tiny pieces of ice to support your weight temporarily ... very temporarily, mind you. To do so, you have to run very quickly from pan to pan ... touching down on some of those smaller pieces only momentarily... with one foot only. This process of running very quickly from pan to pan is what what has become known here in Newfoundland as Copying.
However, I have my own opinion about the term ... always have ... and if you had been with me on the evening I shot this, you would most likely agree with me. You see, in many Newfoundland outports of yesteryear this practice was a way one could keep oneself occupied and amused ... in the words of Ray Guy, a local author, political satirist, TV personality, and wit ... one of the 'juvenille outharbour delights'. However, it was seldom done alone and one person ... usually the bravest ... or most foolhardy, however you want to look at it ( in this case here, that would be this guy) ... set the pace and the path and it was up to the rest to follow him ... or Copy what he was doing. On the evening I took this, there were three or four of these young lads doing that very thing ... following one another across the width of this small bay and sometimes out quite a ways into it!
Now, in days gone by, this practice had a utilitarian or practical function as well as one of amusement or distraction from boredom. You see, long before the meddling of the Bridgette Bardot's, Paul McCartney's, Paul Watson's and other uninformed CFA's, sealing was a way of life in this province and this practice of copying ice pans as a young boy ... dangerous though it no doubt was ... could hone the skill that would keep you alive while sealing at the Front.
Anyway, I grew up on a part of this island where this scene of an ice filled bay or harbour was a rarity ... an extreme rarity! I saw it only once to be exact. The ice drifted into the harbour and filled it completely for two days until a strong North West wind blew it out again. One thing sticks in my mind about that incident, though. I was fifteen or sixteen at the time and had just got home from school. I was standing near a neighbor's slip ... a boardwalk raised on shores (pilings ) and rock pounds leading to his fishing stage ... looking at the ice ... a magical sight for someone who had never ever seen it before. Now, I never said it didn't get cold there. It did! And the landwash was rimmed with a shelf of slick ice formed by salt water beating on the rocks and then freezing. That shelf was about three and a half to four feet above the harbour water which was filled with all this enticing ice.
As I stood there leaning on the rail of the slip, a young girl of about twelve or thirteen came walking out the road leading her sister, who was about six or seven, by the hand. She walks down towards the landwash and this ice shelf. Have you ever stood by watching as something is about to happen, but thinking almost as it's happening that no way is it going to? Well, that was me. This misguided girl goes out to the edge of the ice shelf takes her sister by the arms and drops her down to the ice pans below! I could hardly believe my eyes. I should have said "dropped her down to the ice pans below .... supposedly" because she didin't end up on an ice pan .... but up to her armpits in icy water instead! Her sister starts to scream. The young girl is screaming and next thing I know I'm laying on the ice, reaching down, grabbing her upstretched arms and pulling her up over the ice shelf to safety. By this time, another neighour's wife, (my godmother, actually) who had watched all this unfold from her kitchen window had arrived on the scene and sent the two of them packing off home. They weren't her children, by the way.
So, that was my only encounter as a young man with battycatters ... that's what we called them, by the way. Now, the only time I play in the ice is with my Argo. :-) Although, I must say, I was very tempted to give it a try on some of the pieces nearer shore. Better judgement prevailed, though. :-)
P.S. I have quite a few shots of this guy ... some much closer than this ... but his face is visible. Think I'm going to have to start carrying around a model release form with me. :-) I just might put a couple of them up, though, and blur out the face.