Riding the Clampers
by Marie Foley

"Don't go near the shore," warned my mother as we zipped our snowsuits and headed out the door. "And keep off the clampers!"

"Well, how can we go on the clampers if we don't go to the shore?" I asked sarcastically, knowing full well that she knew we were up to something.

My two sisters and I took the long way around towards the vegetable cellar, then slowly crept along the crusty snow ledges to the fifty-foot embankment.

My parents had good reason to be concerned, ice moved with the shifting winds and often drifted away from the shore without warning.

Mom told us stories about children who were caught in the moving ice and never seen again. We agreed these were only fairy tales; after all, we were teenagers, and what did she know!

'Clampers' is a western Newfoundland word for large clumps of ice that linger in late spring. As dangerous as they might be, we loved the challenge of riding those monsters.

Getting down to the beach was easy. We simply sat on the edge of the bank and let gravity do the rest.

Soon we were jumping from one clamper to another - three sisters enjoying nature and getting a wonderful workout at the same time.

Daring to go a little further, I jumped in the direction of the ocean instead of going parallel to the beach as my sisters and I agreed on doing. Of course I was on my way to the open sea with nowhere to jump but in the icy water.

It happened so quickly! The tide had changed and I was stranded on a drifting clamper. My sisters screamed for me to come back to shore, but like a fly in molasses, I was stuck and as helpless as a wounded sea bird. I eyed the rocks and realised the depth of the ocean floor. Since I couldn't swim, navigating back on my own was out of the question.

As I proceeded out to sea, my sisters climbed the steep bank, and in a minute they were nowhere to be seen. I should have been terrified of drifting away, but my biggest dread was facing my parents. I would pay for this!

I knew my sisters would come to my rescue. Sure enough, I soon heard the faint puttputt of a motor boat coming in my direction. Someone waved and I sheepishly waved back.

Without a word my father lifted me into the boat.

"I can get in myself," I muttered.

"Good thing the wind's not strong young lady or you wouldn't be here now; you were far enough out as it is."

At that point, I began to get chills thinking about what could have happened, and before I could stop myself I was bawling like dad's bull. He didn't pay any attention to me, and kept looking straight ahead.

Mom and all of my nine siblings stood near the bank watching as we plodded up the wharf slip. I could see the love and relief in their faces, especially on Mom's.

"Whatever made you go out there when you were told to stay off the clampers!"

Both sisters gave me the "don't tell" sign so I went along with our little secret.

Of course, I had no explanation to give except more tears. But I promised myself I'd never ride the clampers again. I'd find safer ways to work off my energy.

Marie Foley was born in Winter Houses on the Port-au-Port Peninsula in Western Newfoundland and now makes her home in Nelson-Miramichi. She is an avid writer and has written several articles for The Downhomer Magazine of Newfoundland. Marie can be reached at marieiv@nb.sympatico.ca.