Tucked beyond headlands and nestled in hills on newfoundland`s

Sweet, secluded society
Tucked beyond headlands and nestled in hills on Newfoundland’s
Sou’west Coast, François is a town that time forgot
photography by Rick Gravelle
text: Michael Crummey
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Y
ou could sail by François on Newfoundland’s South
Coast without ever knowing it was there.
Just shy of the bay’s entrance there’s a lighthouse—
one of the few manned lighthouses remaining in Atlantic
Canada—at the head of what appears to be no more than a
shallow indentation in the shoreline. The headlands rise sheer
out of the ocean along this stretch, standing 700 or 800 feet
above the water, and from this vantage point it’s impossible to
guess a town lies beyond. It’s only as you approach this break
in the headlands that the fjord opens up, the narrow ribbon of
water snaking inland with magnificent cliffs towering along
both sides.
Coming through the fjord feels like you’re sailing through a
scene out of some medieval fantasy—then you reach the hidden spoon of the harbour and the unlikely cluster of wharves
and buildings tucked away, houses rising steeply from the bay.
There are no roads and no cars in François (pronounced
“Fran-sway.”) In winter, people can snowmobile across the
barrens to the nearest communities, but for the rest of the year
their only access to the outside world is by sea or by helicopter.
A single horseshoe of blacktop wide enough to accommodate
trikes and quads (ATVs), which are the main form of land
transportation, runs from one side of town to the other. A
maze of railed wooden walkways lead up from the wharves
and weave among the closely built homes, past Sharon’s Place
(one of two general stores), the community hall, the church.
Visitors are likely to be followed up from the water by a handful of curious youngsters, though for a little while they’ll keep
a judicious distance, as if they’re afraid they might scare the
exotic creatures off.
François has persisted in this remarkably isolated location for two centuries now, despite ongoing hardships in
the fishery, despite the Smallwood government’s attempt to
resettle the community to a larger centre in the 1960s. (Some
visitors use François as a point of departure for trips to nearby
abandoned communities like Parsons Harbour and Rencontre
But for the bay, François is surrounded by mountains. Previous
page: splendid isolation—the community is accessible only by sea,
helicopter or snowmobile.
Clockwise, from top left: a winch that was used to pull boats
up the wooden ramp; lobster traps, stored on the dock for the
season; several stages compete for space along the water; a
dockside close-up; making the best of a small, rocky plot; a
young lad suited to be on a boat.
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“They arrive on chartered cruises that stop for an afternoon, or on the
coastal ferry that is the main link to the rest of the island. A handful of
local homes have rooms for rent for anyone wanting to stay overnight”
West.) And there is a fierce pride of place obvious everywhere
here, from the impeccably maintained walkways to the carefully kept cemetery above the church, where even the oldest
marble headstones still stand upright and true.
It was the fishery that first brought people to this location
and now, as then, the fishery is the community’s mainstay. A
little more than 100 people live here year round and, despite
the cod moratorium, local fishermen still manage to make a
go of it with lobster and a number of other species. Tourism
remains a tiny part of the local economy, largely because the
place is so difficult to get to. But every year people come
through, drawn by its reputation as one of the most remote and
exotically beautiful communities in Newfoundland.
They arrive on chartered cruises that stop for an afternoon,
or on the coastal ferry that is the main link to the rest of the
island. A handful of local homes have rooms for rent for anyone wanting to stay overnight. On the hill above the church
there are three campsites for the more adventurous, with fire
pits and an outhouse. If they’re lucky, visitors strike a day
when an anniversary or some other celebration is on at the
community hall, which involves a dance with music provided
by the best one-man band in Newfoundland.
From the cemetery above the church you can hike to the
Friar, a rocky promontory standing almost 700 feet above the
harbour. The climb to the top is a mix of dirt paths and wooden
walkways through bogs with long staircases built on the steepest sections. It is not for the faint of heart, but the view from
the Friar is worth every step. On the ocean side you can see
the fjord snake all the way to its entrance with the open sea
beyond.
Inland and directly below is François, nestled comfortably
into the ancient arm of those hills. From above, it’s easy to see
why that embrace has held people here so steadfastly and so
long.
Wooden walkways weave among the homes. Trikes and quads (all-terrain
vehicles) are the main form of land transportation in François; there are no
cars or trucks.
For more information about François go to explorenewfoundlandandlabrador.com/
communities/francois.htm.
Clockwise, from top left: a home perched on the edge of a cliff
overlooking the fjord; a family takes care of last-minute details
before heading out to fish; welcomed by the campground
outhouse; the view from the top of the Friar; a fine feed of red
snapper; an overview of the colourful and close-knit community.
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