Lighthouse Picnics Story

Written by Shelley Cameron-McCarron

FERRYLAND, Newfoundland - The chicken chili alone is worth the hike along the wind-whipped coast and through towering cliffs to reach the ladies who work the red metal lighthouse at Ferryland Head.

Their rhubarb bread and butter pudding/ might make you proclaim residency and stay.

"Did you try that dessert?" my husband David wagged in amazement on our visit to Lighthouse Picnics in the ethereal fishing village, about an hour's drive south of St. John's.

If the scenery of this tiny fishing village of some 600 souls doesn't get you, with the plunging coastline, swells breaking on the rocky shore, cavorting whales and soaring gulls, the ladies will.

Jill Curran and Sonia O'Keefe are the former homesick Newfoundlanders who created a reason to come home. The idea? A gourmet picnic business at the abandoned lighthouse where Curran's great-grandfather was once the keeper and her grandmother was born.

Oh, well, you girls are clever, I'm sure you'll work it out," Curran remembers the cautionary reaction of friends and family when they proposed their plan.

After all, the lighthouse, which guided wayfarers since 1870 had been abandoned since 1983 and was in rough
shape.

Let's get them to picnic," Curran, 35, recalls the brainstorming that lead to the business opening in 2003. "That's the best thing about the place -- the view."

The effervescent host, who leads guided walks and meets you at the door, had always wanted to do something with the beacon, entwined with her family history for more than 100 years.

O'Keefe, of the Burin Peninsula, also wanted to open a business, using the culinary wizardry she gained at the prestigious Ballymaloe Cookery School, an organic cooking school in Ireland.

Curran was living in Scotland and O'Keefe in Ireland when they came up with the idea to join forces. "We were feeling sorry for ourselves, that we couldn't be home for Christmas, we got to talking about what would you do if you could do anything," Curran says.

The duo approached the town, which was supportive since Day 1, to lease the building.

"That's how we opened that first summer," Curran says.

"A lot of people are, well, surprised to see us here, at the end of the long road," says O'Keefe, 34. "They are surprised they can have curried chicken and green goddess salad. I think people really appreciate it."

Curran adds, "When the sun shines, and the whales are in, we're really quite busy."

Reaching the lighthouse after a 20-minute hike, guests place their order and are given a picnic blanket and flag to stake their ground. Gourmet food, made with fresh, local products, is delivered in minutes. When it's raining, guests can venture into the refurbished light tower and turn crates into tables or sit in the small dining area.

Curran delivers tart, homemade lemonade with hints of rosemary in large Mason jars, and tells our kids they can choose between fresh fruit with raspberry yogurt dip and a ham-and-cheddar apple sandwich on oatmeal molasses bread.

Today's adult menu offers chicken chili ("it's got a bit of zing to it") with sour cream and fresh bread; a ham, brie and green apple sandwich, and a curry chicken sandwich. Rhubarb bread and butter pudding, ginger muffins and scones with orange butter are dessert options.

The food sounds heavenly, especially after our hike up the rutted gravel road, tightly holding the hands of our two elder children and pushing a stroller carrying the third.

The walk to the lighthouse passes the remains of Lord Baltimore's colony - he landed here in 1621, making the hamlet one of the oldest towns in Newfoundland. Visitors can stop at the Colony of Avalon and talk to working archaeologists, professors from nearby Memorial University, as they unearth the region's past.

The one-lane path to the lighthouse continues past a fishing dory and boats tied at the wharf, near pounding surf, up a steep incline, past Goose Island, Isle aux Bois, and if you're lucky, awe-inspiring icebergs. Gulls swoop in and out. As you walk the downs it's fascinating to think of those who walked here hundreds of years before.

This is the Newfoundland of popular imagination, hauntingly exquisite, with a feeling of remoteness and room to breathe all at once. A page wire fence creates a pasture of green grass topping an impossibly steep precipice. Someone has put a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey on the wind-whipped scarecrow.

"I must apologize for the lighthouse entrance," Curran greets us with a wide, endearing smile. "They're shooting a movie here next week. It's a scary one. We don't want to know too much about it."

Special events are another chapter adding to the lighthouse's appeal.

Since they reopened it, Curran and O'Keefe have rekindled a connection that a former light keeper held with the Newfoundland arts community. They've hosted readings by critically acclaimed writers and performances by Irish and flamenco dancers and musicians. Nights have been filled with stories of ghosts and fairies, art classes, and yoga and meditation by the sea.

The women's hard work seems to be paying off. Their lunches have become so popular that guests often need a reservation.

“It's kind of like a dream, just to be able to come back here and do something that I love," O'Keefe says. "And to do it in an old lighthouse in my province is a very special thing."

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