The Double Mystery of Cabot Rock

HistoryFolklore
Written By Robert Hiscock

Once upon a time, just off the coast of Grates Cove, Newfoundland, there stood a curious rock unlike any other. It was a hefty formation—about six feet tall, four feet wide, and jutting two feet out from the cliffside.

Perched near the old fishing stages, the rock was often buried beneath layers of fish offal. Despite its unremarkable setting, it sparked the fascination of many Newfoundlanders.

What made it so special were the weathered engravings etched into its surface—some believed to date back to the 16th and 17th centuries.

One carving, in particular, stood out. Older than the rest, it read simply: IO CABOTO.

Cabot Was Here?

Legend has it, that while John Cabot (aka Giovanni Caboto) may have made his historic landfall in Bonavista in 1497, he came ashore, across the mouth of Trinity Bay, in Grates Cove. He engraved proof of his visit in a prominent square-shaped rock — text reading IO CABOTO.

  • John Cabot, born Giovanni Caboto, was an Italian navigator. In 1497 he sailed to the coast of North America for England. His voyage is the earliest known European exploration of coastal North America since the Norse arrived at L’Anse aux Meadows.

    Cape Bonavista on Newfoundland's east coast is recognized (but certainly not universally accepted) as Cabot's first landfall.

    Cabot made a second voyage to North America in 1498. The evidence is scant, but many think he died during this voyage. He would have been about 50 years-old.

Among the story’s believers was explorer and author, W.E. Cormack. He mentioned the stone while documenting his 1822 trek across the island, he wrote, that Cabot had “recorded the event by cutting an inscription, still perfectly legible, on a large block of rock that stands on the shore.”

Over the years, many trekked to Grates Cove to see the stone for themselves. Despite the legend, the rock hardly appeared to be held in high regard. In fact, sometimes visitors found it buried in fish offal from the nearby fishing enterprises.

For the most part, those who got a good look at the rock, found nothing on the stone resembling Cabot’s name; only carvings from more recent history (picture).

One man persevered — Leo English, eventual curator of the Newfoundland Museum. He visited and photographed the rock in 1927.

At first, English found what many recent visitors had seen—nothing particularly noteworthy. The engraving that Cormack once described as “perfectly legible” wasn’t evident at all.

Of course, it’s entirely possible that an extra century of harsh North Atlantic weather had worn the text away.

“We were disappointed on viewing the stone as the naked eye could not discern any markings,” English wrote. “However, the camera’s supersensitive eye brought out in light and shadow what human vision missed. On one of the negatives, we could trace the following: ‘Gio Caboto’ in script lettering...”

“If any person doubts these statements,” he continued, “let him come to the local museum and there he will see an enlarged photo of the stone, and the curator will point out the above inscription.”

  • English claimed the stone also contained text reading “SANCIUS" and "SAINMALIA."

    Cabot had a son named Sancius.

    The latter engraving has been theorized to be maybe the name of a crew member, or even a reference to ‘Santa Maria’.

Determined to prove the historical importance of the stone, English began building his case.

Statue of John Cabot at Cape Bonavista

He combed through the limited records of Cabot’s voyage and found a reference in the John Day Letter of 1497, which described Cabot coming ashore “a short distance from the place land was sighted.” If Cabot had indeed first sighted Bonavista, then Grates Cove could reasonably be considered “a short distance away.”

English also cited another letter from that time, this one written by Raimondo Soncino, ambassador of the Duke of Milan in London. According to English, the letter indicated that Cabot “made certain marks” upon landing. He speculated that Cabot, wanting to leave a lasting record, might have chosen stone.

But that interpretation is questionable. Most translations of the Soncino letter don’t mention Cabot making marks—they say he took “certain tokens” before returning.

A Grave Marker?

While English argued that the inscription on the rock commemorated Cabot’s landing during his 1497 voyage, others offered a darker version of events.

What if Cabot Rock didn’t mark a beginning — but an end?

Cabot sailed to North America in 1497, and again in 1498. It’s widely believed he never returned from that second voyage. He simply disappears from the historical record.

Some believe he was shipwrecked near Grates Cove.

There’s a piece of evidence that fuels this theory. In 1501, Gaspar Corte-Real journeyed to Newfoundland. Engaging in the slave-trade, he abducted a number of Indigenous people and brought them to Portugal. Among their belongings were a broken gilt sword and silver earrings of Venetian design.

Few Europeans had reached Newfoundland by that point. Cabot is considered the most likely source of those European items.

And since the record specifically states that he did not interact with any North Americans during his 1497 voyage, it’s assumed these goods were left behind during his 1498 expedition.

They provide evidence that he survived the voyage and made it to Newfoundland. Some storytellers speculate that the European items were left behind because the crew never left — they were stranded on the island.

The stone, they say, might have been carved to record their fate, or even as a memorial to their lost companions.

It’s an interesting story, but evidence to support it is thin, and it doesn’t look like any answers are coming soon.

The Mystery Deepens

Normally, at this point in a Strange Truths / Tall Tales post, I’d encourage you to visit the site, take a look for yourself, and come to your own conclusion.

But this one’s different.

You can still visit Grates Cove—but you won’t find Cabot Rock.

It’s gone.

According to local legend, sometime in the 1960s, two men arrived in a van bearing the logo of a local media company. What happened next depends on who you ask—but the story goes they removed the face of the rock, loaded it into the van and drove away.

And just like that, it vanished.

Whatever was carved into that stone — if anything at all — disappeared with it, leaving behind not one mystery, but two:

Was Cabot’s name ever truly etched into the rock?
And where is that rock now?

The theft(?) virtually ensured the survival of the legend — after all, who would go through the trouble of taking a large rock they believed unimportant. On top of that, without the constraint of any physical proof, the imagination is free to run wild.

Personally, I suspect the double mystery is probably a good bit more enjoyable than the facts.

But then, I don’t really know. That’s the fun of it.

If you’ve heard stories, seen photos, or know anything about the whereabouts of Cabot Rock, I’d love to hear from you.

The comments are open.

Robert Hiscock

Robert grew up in a tiny Newfoundland community called Happy Adventure. These days he lives in Gander, NL and his happiest adventures are spent with his two Labrador retrievers exploring the island while listening to a soundtrack of local music.

When the dogs are napping Robert takes photos, writes about Newfoundland, and makes a podcast.

https://productofnewfoundland.ca
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