Starting in 1978, photographer John Coffer and a horse named Brownie began an epic, years-long trek across the United States. Along the way, they made many friends, had multiple adventures and helped revive the 19th century’s greatest photographic achievement: The Wet plate collodion process. When their travels ended, John and Brownie settled on a farm … Read more
Chris was a caring, attentive husband and father. He was a talented, hardworking journalist, dedicated to thoughtful storytelling, too. I’m sure Chris taught me everything I know about writing a story with heart. He was my friend and I miss him, as does everyone who had the pleasure to know him.
he ferry was called the MV Apollo and it had seen better days. Caked in rust, it had a pronounced list to the port side, I thought. It did have a cheap, hot breakfast and plenty of coffee on board and that made it OK in my book.
Our first stop on a daylong tour of the town was the E.J. Broomfield Arena and the 7th annual Guardian Hamilton Drugs Junior Labrador Soccer Cup. We watched teams of kids and teens from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Churchill Falls and Labrador City kick the ball around, arena football style, in a converted hockey rink.
May 31, 2018 — I woke to the sound of rain pattering on my tent. It wasn’t a torrent. I got up. Dean and I huddled around his Jetboil, not talking much, till the coffee was ready. The rain let up and we packed our things.
Dean and I had ridden north, into the wilderlands, to see if there was any adventure left in a Trans-Labrador Highway ride. Once known as the longest dirt road in the world, it’s now largely paved. Most of the adventure bikers that once flocked to it have since moved on to other, more remote gravel challenges.
From the archives: Originally published December 26, 2017 Eric Foster remembers gassing up, downing a mouthful of Gatorade and taking a picture of a beautiful flower. After that, Foster got back on his motorcycle and took off down the road. He was nearly 900 miles north of Montreal and 300 miles from his goal. Foster … Read more
I wrote this song in the voice a former Maine milltown worker who finds himself old, alone and stuck in a community fading away on the banks of a river. I was going to film it in one of the larger cities where they used to make blankets, shoes and paper — like Lewiston, Biddeford … Read more