My father owned about 120 acres of land and my grandfather about 150 acres. My grandfather had inherited his land from his father, John Jennex, born 1830. My father's land had belonged to my grandmother's brother, Peter Mitchell, who died in 1927. In 1930 my grandmother's brothers and sisters deeded the property to my grandfather. He and my grandmother deeded it to my father in 1933.
The land was narrow and long; what this meant was that the land had a short shore frontage of about 1/2 mile, then stretched far into the woods. As the road ran fairly near the shore, it crossed each property leaving varying pieces of land between the road and the water. The houses of Jeddore were usually located so that they had access to both road and harbour. However, all this land did not mean wealth or extensive farming.
The land in Jeddore was mainly woods of spruce and fir growing on rocks. There were also maple and birch trees. Most fields were cleared patches between the rocks; even the larger ones had bordering rock walls which indicated the labour involved in clearing and keeping free of rocks, which with the years of farming continued to come to the surface. Scattered over the fields were boulders too large to remove; planting and haying went on around them. The land was tilled by hand or by harrows and ploughs pulled by horses or oxen; the hay was cut by hand. The fields were too small or had too many rocks to allow mechanical farming, if we could have afforded it.
For most of the Jeddore Road, except around the fishing community, the houses on their cleared land were isolated from each other. Our house was well off the road, down a lane through the trees. The house sat in a small field; there were other small fields and garden areas scattered about, above the house and on the hill overlooking the harbour. Each garden area was a naturally flat piece of cleared land, surrounded by woods, rocks and uneven ground. The fields were the same without being flat.
The house was on the northern side of the hill, & faced north, so protected a little from the cold breezes from the Atlantic, which came up the harbour from the south. You could see the harbour through the trees, but there was no clear view. Our orchard obscured part of this view.
My grandfather's land bordered our lane and came quite near our house and barn, but between the houses was a thick wood of spruce and fir, growing between a jumble of rocks. As the crow flies, the houses were about 1/4 mile apart, but no path. We always went out the lane, briefly along the main road, then down a path passing my grandfather's orchard and through the pasture to the house. This route was no more than a 1/2 mile. It was the way much travelled by us kids. You could go further along the main road, take steps from the road down to the field, or enter the driveway beside the barn, thence down the field to enter my grandparents' house via the front yard. This was the visitors' way. To drive down, you had to push back the gate poles, drive past the barn and then swing left down the field. Due to the slippery grass, few cars drove all the way down to the house.
As my great grandfather's land had been divided between his two sons, Tom and Jim, their houses shared one hillside field. Jim's house was built in the section of field above the road, and Tom's, the original home, occupied the land between the road and the shore. Both houses had a full view of the harbour, and were in full view of each other. Jim's house and barn were on the road; Tom's barn was opposite, on the other side of the road, but Tom's house was halfway between the road and the shore. These three properties and houses made up my first world.
Originally, my father's and grandfather's land had wharves and fish or boat houses. I do not remember the boat house on my father's land, but in that on my grandfather's, I recall lobster pots, buoys, cork floats, nets, a rowboat, and what have you. It was high with a pitched roof and storage loft above. It sat on a small rise, above the slipway. It was torn down toward the end of the 1930's, because it was in danger of falling down. We kids had been warned not to plan inside. By the early 1930's the wharf had gone, all that remained was a pile of rocks out in the water, which had been its foundation.
My father's wharf had been larger, made in two sections, one built with its foundation on the land, the other in deeper water to ensure enough depth for the fishing boats at low tide. They were connected by a plank walk. The boat house had been on the inner wharf. The wharves were built by pounding logs down into the mud as anchors, then structuring the wharf with connecting logs. All was then filled in with huge rocks. They were quite substantial structures. The labour of construction was terrific, but was probably done as a community effort.
By the 1930's, the outer wharf had gone, just the pile of rocks making up the foundation was visible. The inner wharf had most of its plank flooring missing, but its huge log frame remained, held in place by the massive pile of rocks. We kids would run over these rocks and logs while fishing, getting on and off boats or just playing about. At high tide, it would be seven or eight feet of water off the deep end; at a very low tide, hardly any water at all. At low tide the rock pile of the outer wharf stuck out of the water. A long slipway ran down beside the wharf. The fishing boats visiting us, anchored just off shore, and came in by rowboat. We really did not have a functioning wharf anymore.
What caused the wharves to go ? It must be remembered that in winter the rocky shoreline would be covered with huge blocks of ice, which rose and fell, crashing into each other and the wharves with each tide. The gale force winds added to the power of this ice, which had a devastating effect on the wood and stone of the wharves. As the wharves were not being used anymore to gain a livelihood, the repairs were never made. And each passing year saw a gradual decline.
Our new house, which had been built by my father and grandfather, was in an isolated, lonely spot. A narrow lane about 300 yards long, running through a new dense growth of spruce and fir trees on one side and more open choppings on the other, led from the road. The house sat in a clearing or field, on a slope surrounded by maple and birch trees, an orchard and older spruce and fir. In one direction you could just glimpse the harbour through the trees. From the house you could not see the road or any other house; miles across the harbour in West Jeddore the houses were dots; sometimes their lights could be seen at night. The road crossing our land went up quite a steep hill, and the cars struggling up could easily be heard from the house; usually the drivers gunned their motors and raced up the first part, until the cars lost momentum.
In the houses near or on the road, a car going by caused a rush to the window or door to see who it was. No one made a trip without the whole community knowing. In fact, the most used chairs in the houses were placed so that this information could be acquired without getting up. Similarly the telephone, which was on a party system, functioned by a number of short rings to signal the person being called. It was no place to have a private
conversation. Neither my parents, grandparents or Jim had a phone. As our house was cut off visually from the road, my parents missed a lot of the comings and goings of their fellow man. Since my mother was often living alone with only us kids, this only added to her isolation.
The original East Jeddore Road used to come down our lane, pass our house, continue down below the orchard, cross the hillslope, then to pass below some cliffs, before it entered the woods on the next property. Thence it followed the shore to emerge from the woods at the next cove, there to join the 1930's Road again. I do not know when this level shore road was changed for the more direct route through the woods to the next cove. The new road had a very steep hill at each end; in the distance from our house we could hear the 1930's cars gunning their motors as they made a go at the hill. In winter, ice and snow also posed problems. Maybe the new road was built before cars, when horses and oxen pulling buggies, wagons or sleighs would have no problems with such hills. But I do not think that is the reason for the road change: the houses along the route of the old road had long since gone, so it no longer serviced any families, also at one steep hillside there might have been landslides and an even steeper hill to climb.
In the past there had been at least two houses on this old shore road. The remains of one of them and a barn were on my father's land. The barn was next to the orchard; here were the remains of a stone foundation, now overgrown with raseberry bushes. The house was situated on the open hillside, which was part of our haying field; this hill formed a point jutting out into the harbour, known as 'Rum Point'. All that remained of this house was a smooth floor of packed earth or some other material, and a hole where the cellar used to be. Nearby was a clump of current bushes, red, white & black, which produced as long as I can remember, with no assistance, year after year. We kids preferred the white, which you could pick in bunches like grapes. The red and white made excellent jams. The black currents we ate as a novelty; they were not that tasty.
These buildings were just up the hill from the wharf, as the owner had boats and fished. The second ruins of a house was on the next property, quite near the shore, with the remains of a wharf. I do know who lived in these houses. I must have heard their names mentioned by my parents or grandparents, but they are gone from memory. Peter Mitchell, my grandmother's brother, owned the land from 1918; it had passed to my grandparents in 1930. But he he lived in another location. How long had they been unoccupied ? When had they been torn down or fallen down ? The road and the houses went before the 1930's is all that I know.
The old road had not really gone, it was just put to another use. It was our driveway or lane. From the house it lead down past the orchard, to near the wharf, then across our haying field. In a land of endless rocks and trees and gullies, this stable ex-road, now with a grassy surface, was a welcome access route across our property.
Even on the next property, where the road was unused, it was well defined, mostly tree-free, and still with its original width. The hard packed surface prevented trees and shrubs from easily getting a start; the old road made a good walking track except where the fallen trees blocked the way. In the 1930's, it was mainly under a canopy of large trees. I can remember a few shrubs and trees just beginning to grow in the centre of this section of the old road.
The shore was rocky and the water chiefly shallow, except where it dropped off the rocky ledges or cliffs which ran out into the water. The tidal rocks were covered in rockweed. The shallow water beyond had a muddy bottom covered with patches of eel grass. There were no sandy beaches in our part of the harbour. The harbour had some deep channels, but they were quite a distance out from our property. All the wharves had to be built out beyond the rocks to get deep water over a muddy bottom. Four or five feet clearence at low tide was enough.
We kids roamed this shore: exploring, fishing, looking under rocks, digging for clams, throwing jelly fish, catching baby eels and minnows, picking up shells, seeing what had drifted ashore, etc. With the next property vacant, we had it, my father's and my grandfather's shore as our play area.
Although we played around the shore a lot, we did not go into the water often. It was very cold. Just a dash in and out was all we could take. We were too near the harbour entrance and the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean. There could be warmer water at the head of the harbour on a sunny late summer day. Also, near the harbour entrance, where there was a long sand bar, on the shore side of which at low tide would be trapped ponds of water; on a hot day these could warm up. Miles away, there were sandy beaches fronting on the ocean, and if you caught an incoming tide washing up on the hot sand, the water could be enjoyable. But at home we kids rarely went fully into the water, just wading along our shore.
We grew up using the term "back in the woods", which meant inland from the harbour and its clinging road. You did not have to go far to be in the woods, that is, away from the sounds of cars on the road, voices and the like. The woods were so thick with spruce and fir of all ages, that an almost impregnable wall was formed to prevent entering. If you went back in the woods, you followed the hauling roads - rough tracks cut years before to be used in winter by oxen or horses with sleighs. Pulpwood and firewood would be hauled out over the frozen ground covered with snow. The surface was rough with boulders and roots cluttering the way. Very large rocks were simply skirted. When the road crossed a small wet area or brook, logs would be put down crossways to assist the sleighs. The bogs or swamps with their extensive water, mud and spongy ground could only be crossed in winter when frozen solid, giving a surface of ice and snow, over which the sleighs could glide with ease, loaded or empty. Only if used before the freezeup or after the thaw, were there problems with soft ground, water and mud.
Along these hauling roads there were worn footpaths or trails which we walked in summer; they meandered between the rocks and roots, and hopped the crossed logs. These tracks only left the hauling road when a bog was encountered, which could be often; some bogs were quite large. Bogs were wet and muddy or wet and spongy, which made walking difficult or impossible. Here the path would detour to higher, firmer ground. The men used the hauling roads to get to their wood cutting areas. This could be in spring, summer or fall. These were the paths used to go deer hunting and berry picking. So summer and winter the hauling roads played a major part in our way of life. We kids did not use the hauling roads or go far into the woods on our own, as getting lost was a danger, and maybe meeting a moose. Adults always took us.
Walking the hauling roads in summer was very enjoyable because of the variety of surface and scenery.The road surface could be grassy where the sky was open, mossy where there was some shade, and only pine needles where it was all shade. With a full canopy of trees above, the road looked gloomy to us kids. There was one such road which was called the "dark road", because it was a tunnel through the trees, and from the sunshine looking in, it appeared dark.
We had two hauling roads going back into the woods on our property. They seemed to us kids to go for miles. One ran roughly between my father's and grandfather's land. There were lakes, bogs, plains and choppings back in the woods. There were mostly stands of older trees, which were more open; thick stands of young spruce and fir; and choppings where cutting had taken place. These choppings were full of brush, new growth of bushes and very young trees; here grew the best blueberries. And there was grass here and there, with the result the choppings were good places to hunt deer, who came to fee.
We kids went back in the woods quite often, but never very far on our own. In winter we rode on the empty sleighs pulled by oxen, played while the adults loaded them up with pulp wood or pit props, then rode on top of the wood or walked home. In summer with the adults, we went to pick berries in the choppings; mainly blue berries and rockberries. On the swamps grew bogberries and cranberries.
The far ends of these hauling roads were usually at one of the far lakes, or open plains, which were also often the far borders of the properties. I remember the remains of an old main road crossing one of our hauling roads; it was then nearly lost to sight. The surface was just beginning to be covered with new growth; the road's visibility was due to the straight open area above. It would soon disappear from sight as from memory. I cannot recall what my father or grandfather told me about it. It was just the old road, but from where to where ?