The lighthouse at the entrance to Francois sets the stage for what’s to come. Perched on its ramparts, it is the only beacon for miles and miles along this rugged coast. It marks a narrow, hidden entrance to the kingdom within and with its castle-like appearance it looks to stand guard against any unfriendly invasion.

Turning the corner and entering the fiord, Francois, (pronounced “Fransway” by the fewer than the one hundred souls who call this home) will immediately cast its spell of enchantment on you. The fiord walls are deep, the water below the keel likewise and the colourful homes standout toylike in the distance. A small, trap-skiff boat carrying two young Fransians comes out to greet us and offer us advice and any assistance we might require, while two more wait to greet us on the floating, public dock, glad to offer a hand to their latest “invaders”, a welcome Come What May had not yet and has not since experienced. After setting our lines and bumpers, we soon tie up and after introductions to our dockside greeters, Lawrence and Valentine, the conversation flows and in no time Lawrence offers us an invitation to visit his home and we are provided visual directions to the grey house perched above. We feel very privileged to be here and thank them for their generosity. Valentine expresses a desire to someday own a boat like ours. The black flies are deadly and we immediately screen our floating home from their tenacity.

You can’t help but feel the special uniqueness of the place. It truly does feel magical. Standing on the dock after a long day at sea, we feel overwhelmed by the beauty. After settling in, we stroll up the gangway into the townsite. All the homes are arranged in about five layers ascending the terrain, fish stages with dories on log ramps to the water on the first level, homes for the next few and then the school and post office second from the top. The church and generator station enjoy the most elevated positions, demonstrating the importance of both to this tiny community. It is all interconnected by a maze of solid timber boardwalks or concrete “streets”, each no more than a mere eight feet wide. We’re later told that the resident women walk from place to place, the men and older children ride the streets on quads. During our walkabout, the place is eeriely quiet, we don’t see a soul.

Boardwalks have been extended in terraces to look-off points (with picnic tables!) and one even manages to offer a bridge over the very top of the cascading falls near the peak of the fiord. Amazing! If you have ever had the feeling of landing in a movie set, this is it! Any of the fantasy movies, from the Lord of the Rings to Star Wars would fit right in here. And the Storybook genre, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, would also feel right at home. It’s just that unique and intrinsically beautiful. Once, when the community was larger, a “suburb” clung to one of the outer ledges of the bay and was only accessible by a boardwalk, which once upon a time hung from the cliff’s shore edge suspended out over the water. 

   
 We continue our stroll of the townsite observing the arrival of a fishing vessel from high above on one of the “streets”. It seems so tiny down below. Come What May looks toylike in the distance as she lays all alone alongside the “visitor’s” floating dock. The bay is too deep to anchor so the dock is a precious resource to both visitor and Fransian alike. One for the safe port of call, the other for the opportunity to have some outside contact. The only way to Francois is by boat and the ferry, which docks soon after us, carries only a maximum of 40 passengers and cargo.

We drop by the grey house of our new friend Lawrence and his partner Barbara. Lawrence and Barbara are from Hamilton, Ontario and bought the house sight unseen for $10,000 about two years ago. They come here for the summers and enjoy the tranquility. Why Francois? Because Lawrence would be “forced” to sail his steel- hulled ketch, the “John Keys” (named after a former skipper he worked these waters with) to Francois and use it as their means of transportation. Something he desperately felt a need to do. Unfortunately, last year, she was water damaged and now lays  on the hard in Burgeo. He hopes to sail her next year. Their living room is full of sailing boats and memorabilia. We take a quick tour of the house and just like the town and the cliff they’re built on, the home itself is terraced inside to reflect the topography. Four levels in all, it is a home of compact efficiency and workable spaces. All windows look to the fiord. Lawrence kindly filled a water jug for us, with pristeen water from the freshwater lakes above the town and we head back to Come What May before night falls, kindly accompanied by Lawrence showing the way. We sleep like the dead, cozy and warm in our snug little haven, safe from the bugs and the trolls that live under the bridges.

Morning’s sunlight fills the cabin bouncing off the walls of the fiord on its way to our snug berth.

  
Onward we go, leaving the little kingdom behind in our quest for Conception Bay and home.