Shrouded giants and tales of the sea

Rocky Harbour, NL – Would we or wouldn’t we? That was the question this morning. We were set to sail up the fjord at Western Brook in Gros Morne Park today, but heavy cloud cover and a mist of rain on the windshield as we drove up the highway made us unsure whether it would be worth-while, or even possible, to accomplish the mission.
When we went to reserve a place for today’s sail, the booking agent said they wouldn’t accept our money till we were at the departure point. One reason was the changeable weather, but the other was the fact that, to get to the dock, passengers had to walk in from the parking lot for three kilometers  – and back out at the end. Six kilometers total! The trail was labeled “easy”, over boardwalks and gravel paths without many hills, but if one was not up to the challenge, one could just turn around and leave without forfeiting the ticket fee.

A heavy Scotch mist and steady breeze sent shivers through us as we set out. Our path took us through a wooded area, and a bog, and more, with helpful interpretive plaques describing the flora, fauna and terrain. I was delighted to spot a pitcher plant, and then a few more; this is the iconic provincial flower that nods above the “Newfoundland Labrador” logo in the beautiful TV ads we’ve seen. It’s quite large; the bloom is about the size of an extra-large egg.

We also saw buttercups, meadow sweet, cotton grass and stately purple iris flowers, plus twisted pine trees and junipers with tiny red cones on the branch tips that looked like miniature roses.

When we finally made it to the end of the trail, before us, all we could see was the pond and a few feet up the hillsides, capped with a heavy shroud of fog. Soaring cliffs? Not so much. Consternation festered among the hardy souls who had made it this far, but about 10 minutes later the captain announced that the boat would sail in spite of the fog, and if at the halfway point we were still socked in, we’d turn around and our money would be refunded.

Lucky for the captain, the ceiling did begin to lift as we moved further into the deep gorge. Western Brook is a landlocked fjord with walls that reach higher than the CN Tower, carved in ancient times by glaciers. Silvery waterfalls tumbled from the heights in places, and each time we turned past a point of land, new vistas came into view. We know it would have been nicer if the weather had been clear and sunny, but we were glad we got to see this beautiful spot anyway.

An after-noon nap was definitely on the agenda after our hearty work-out across the bog. Then we got changed and headed north, past the Western Brook, to Cow Head to see the Gros Morne Theatre Festival production of “S.S. Ethie”. The dinner theatre show tells the story of a shipwreck off the coast in 1919 when a winter gale blew in. Told with pathos and humour, the play was all the more engaging because the site of the wreck is here. Val and I took the trail down to see it on Thursday – the rusted frame and parts of the Ethie are still scattered on the beach.

We took a short tour over a causeway to the Cow Head island after the show. The lighthouse was at the end of a walking trail so we didn’t see it (did enough of that already today!), but I did get some good shots of fishing huts, lobster traps and boats before we headed home. On the highway we spotted a moose on the roadside, but he loped into the bush before we got too near. Whew!

Of rocks, lobsters and ugly sticks

[We were unable to post yesterday. This is our report for Friday, June 3, 2015.]
Rocky Harbour, NL – Our first destination today was to Green Point, where the Gros Morne Park literature told us a naturalist would be on hand to tell us about a geological site unique in the world. The seaside location was a 20-minute drive from our campground, so we got there in plenty of time. No green-shirted park naturalist was in sight.

The only other person we could see was down at the shore near some fishing build-ings, so we went to see what he could tell us. Roger was there with his pickup truck and his dog, and was getting ready to take his boat out, loaded with lobster traps and chunks of fish for bait. He pointed to where we should go, but we paused for a bit, since we were early, to ask him about his traps. He had the newer rectangular ones made of coated wire, and he told us this was the best year in a long time for lobster. He also told us he was the last lobster fisherman around; no one else was carrying on the tradition.

We left Roger to his preparations and wandered along the shore to the rock formations. Great high cliffs jutted up from the shore, with hundreds of sedimentary layers positioned vertically, like huge stripes of different widths, from paper thin to several inches wide. The short description of the site said this was a unique place where two geological eras stood side by side, exposed for examination. A handful of other visitors were looking at parts of it some distance from us, and a few more people arrived after we climbed the stairs to the top of the cliff, but none of them were there to explain to us what we were looking at.
We chatted with some of the other people for a while, but finally gave up. Turns out the 
naturalist had called in sick, but we didn’t know that at the time.

We had another destination: in Cow Head, the Anglican Church was hosting a lobster festival, with serving beginning at noon! We’d heard about it last night at the moose supper in St Paul, from one of the men who would be cracking the shells today. Sure enough, he was there, as well as a bevy of church ladies who invited us to start at the salad bar, an ice-filled boat holding great bowls of salads. Shortly after, we were presented with one pre-cracked lobster each at our table. The meal was rounded out with tea biscuits and molasses buns and bowls of bakeapple, partridge berry and blueberry jam. It was a delicious treat!

Back at the RV, we took a break, waiting to hear whether or not we’d get in to see “Anchors Aweigh”, a musical Newfoundland show at the hotel in town. It had been highly recommended, but we’d  only made the waiting list. To our delight, we got the call that tickets were available for us. We drove in to Rocky Harbour later on for the show, and what a great presentation it was!

A four-man group delivered Newfoundland songs, old and new, peppered with jokes and lore, for three hours with energy of epic proportions! The highlight for me was the demonstration of the ugly stick, a Newfie instrument used at kitchen parties for people who couldn’t play anything else. A broomstick is fitted with a boot at the bottom, a mop at the top and jangly bottle-tops nailed to the shaft for some makeshift percussion.  It was a terrific performance – worth staying up past our bedtime to see!

The nanny-baas and the rabbit

Rocky Harbour, NL – Today, after a stop at the Visitor Centre for suggestions on what to see, we set off along the shore high-way to see the lighthouse at Lobster Cove Head.  The “head” was the point of land where the building stood high on a rocky outcropping and visible for more than 20 km out to sea.

The wind combed through the long grass along the path to the lighthouse and made the flags crack to attention on the pole next to its white tower. Old photos of the original lighthouse keeper and his family were displayed in a small side building, where Bonnie-Lou, the Parks Canada guide, waited to chat with visitors.

Born into a fishing family in Sally’s Cove, Bonnie-Lou knew all about the hardships and challenges of eking out a living by the sea – and her accent charmed us both! She talked about getting stuck in the “hoice” (oh! We said: ice!) in winter, and the time her mother got caught in the middle of a herd of “nanny-baas” on the way back from the store. These were sheep that had got loose and were curious to see what her mother had in her paper bag.

Then there was the time her mother leapt out of the truck to catch a rabbit hopping along the road, so that Bonnie-Lou could have the pet rabbit she always wanted. She kept it until out of pity she let it go. We could have listened to her all day.

A little further up the coast, we turned off for the interpretive presentation about fishing at Broom Point. The site used to be the home of three brothers who fished these shores from the 1940s to the 1970s. When they retired, they sold their property to Parks Canada, to tell visitors about Newfoundland’s early days when they thought the cod would be there forever. Dry wooden lobster traps and musty-smelling nets were on display in the building by the water, along with canning equipment, ropes and a couple of sturdy wooden dories that once took to the waves.

Bill, our guide, told us that the international fishing waters were changed from a 12-mile limit to a 200-mile limit about 20 years too late. By then industrial fishing gear had hauled fish by the millions from the water and destroyed the spawning grounds on the sea bottom, so that a recovery, since the moratorium in 1991, would be almost impossible.  Strict limits are set on “by-catches” of cod, picked up inadvertently by fishers of turbot and halibut. This is where the cod on restaurant menus come from today.

Some late-arriving visitors came in and told us they’d just spotted a caribou on the property, so we went out for a look. There on the hill was a fine-looking beast, trotting about nervously as a tourist tried to get closer for a photo. We got to watch him for several minutes before he loped into the trees.

Bill told us about a moose-meat supper up the road at the Anglican Church in St.Paul, and what better place to do it than in a church basement where they served it up with mashed potatoes, carrots, turnip, peas and a slice of partridge berry pie for dessert? A great ending to a great day.

Oh Canada!

Gros Morne, NL – We’ve had a sunny, warm summer day to enjoy Canada’s 148^th birthday, with a 300 km drive through some spectacular scenery, and glimpses into local celebrations in three different places on the way.
If you picture the Newfoundland map as a triangle, we traveled about half-way up the left-hand side of it today. For the early part, we were by the water, turning inland later on but still seeing lots of brooks and lakes there too, with some major mountains thrown in -- some even with snow on top.

We took a detour off the TransCanada to have a look at Stephenville, a pretty seaside town. We noticed that every cross street was named after one of the US states, and then we came to a US Air Force fighter jet mounted on a pedestal. We figured Stephenville must have been a strategic military location during the war years.

Just then, to our left, we saw a crowd at the local cenotaph, where a memorial ceremony was under way. The Canadian and Newfoundland flags were at half-mast and wreaths were being laid by uniformed personnel – in Newfoundland, July 1 commemorates the decimation of local boys at Beaumont-Hamel, near Vimy Ridge, in World War I, as well as Canada Day. It was a touching sight.

Back on the main road, we passed the turnoff for Corner Brook, which we may visit at another time, and at Deer Lake, we turned left off the TransCanada (which will take us toward Gander and St John’s later in our stay) and headed north on Highway 430.

More great vistas of rocks and trees awaited us at every turn. At one point, after passing many warning signs about moose, we saw a dead moose by the roadside. It reinforced our vigilance in a way signs cannot.

On entering Gros Morne National Park, the attendant told us it was free today, being Canada Day, so we continued on our way. The familiar yellow-orange KOA sign can’t be used within the park boundaries, so we missed the turn. However, we took a roundabout route through Rocky Harbour and eventually located the RV park. This was not before we passed the town’s park where the entire population was gathered for a decorated bicycle parade and games and fun for the kiddies. A happy sight!

Once settled in our site, we explored Rocky Harbour and Norris Point in the car, locating a good spot for a seafood dinner to end the day. We had our first taste of cod tongues as an appetizer, and Val had halibut while I chose the Fisherman’s Catch – cod, scallops and shrimp! Delicious!

As we were turning back into the KOA park, the junior division of the park guests all filed by, dressed in red and white with balloons and flags and decorated bicycles, headed for a weenie roast on the beach! We’re told there will be fireworks in Rocky Harbour at 11 pm (the sun doesn’t set till quite late here) but I think we’ll be sound asleep by then.

A less traveled road

Port aux Basques, NL – The low hooting of a foghorn woke me around four this morn-ing, fore-telling a misty morn-ing and cool temperatures. At least the wind and rain had stopped when we got up and got rolling.

After a short consultation at the information centre back at Port aux Basques, we drove through the town for a quick peek. Ringed by rocks and pounding surf, the town appeared to be prosperous enough, with well-kept modest bungalows along streets that meandered around the rocky terrain. We saw another huge ferry at the dock, but drove on past as we headed further south, out of town.

The map shows a little tail of highway to the right of the ferry landing point, while most traffic coming ashore heads left, or north. Effie, at the information centre, told us about a stone lighthouse and a couple of places where we could get some real Newfoundland food down that way.

Stunted pine trees and boggy vegetation covered the rolling hills, reminding us of the tundra in the Yukon. There were lots of rocky outcroppings and still, dark ponds of water, like mirrors, reflecting the twisted pines along their edges.

We covered about 40 km before reaching Rose Blanche (rhymes with ranch). Its stone lighthouse served the fishing community for many years before it fell apart, leaving only its tower intact. In 1997 the townspeople decided to gather and clean the scattered stones, and reassemble them. Their labour of love has drawn many people since then, although we had the place to ourselves today.

On the path to the lighthouse we encountered a clutch of baby piping plovers and their anxious mother. The chicks were mere puffballs on long, spindly legs, and they pelted along the path ahead of us, unable yet to use their wings. Piping plovers are an endangered species here so we were lucky to see them.

We learned that the town’s name actually referred to some white rocks (“roches blanches”) at Diamond Cove that were visible from the height of land, but locals changed the name to Rose from roches. I’m thinking we will encounter many such unique pronunciations in our travels here.

Retracing our steps, we turned off at Isle aux Morts (“eye-la-morts”) for a meal at Hairyman’s Safe Haven, a community centre offering Newfoundland fare. Long tables inside awaited the summer crowds that have yet to appear, but we enjoyed great slabs of fresh cod, lightly floured and panfried, as we sat at a window overlooking the rocks and bush.

Hairyman refers to the Newfoundland dog that swam out into the raging waves in 1828 with a rope so that 163 hapless passengers of a wrecked ship could pull their way, hand over hand, to safety.

When we got back to the camp-ground, we drove past our site to have a look at the spectacular sandy beach that we had read about in the literature. Again, we had it to ourselves, except for a bald eagle down the way that was perched on a rock, tearing away at his catch as the roaring surf rolled in. Such beauty!

In the belly of the beast

Port aux Basques, NL – We made it to New-foundland! And we were greet-ed with rain falling sideways and warn-ings of gusts up to 100 km per hour after a rough crossing. You gotta be tough to come out to The Rock!

There were already long lineups of cars and transport trucks at the mustering point for the ferry in North Sydney when we got there around 9:30. We were guided to Lane 21 on the large flat apron near the loading dock, where we sat for nearly two hours to get on board. It was raining the whole time, so we were quite content to stay in the vehicle, although some people went into the building for coffee or to stretch their legs.

Finally the PA system announced that it was time to get on board. Attendants dressed in high-visibility slickers guided the long line of huge transport trucks, holiday trailers with trucks, motorhomes and cars onto two different access levels. We marveled that this extremely heavy cargo of vehicles could all get into a vessel that would actually float and not go straight to the bottom.

Inside, more attendants showed drivers where to park their vehicles. We were packed in like sardines, with clearance between the rows that was less than a shoulder-width apart! We had to fold our mirrors in so we wouldn’t graze the sides of our neighbours’ vehicles.

Once our rig was settled in place, we left the loading bay and headed up to the passenger level. There, we found amenities of all kinds: a restaurant, snack bar, gift shop and various lounges with comfortable chairs and large TV screens. There was an internet station with several computers, plus washrooms and a play area for children.

We decided to have a mid-day dinner in the restaurant and save the sandwiches I’d prepared for the end of our trip. It was a tasty meal, and we had a window seat so we could look out at the waves. And waves there were; our server said it might be a bit rough crossing and advised that we sit near the stern for a less unpleasant experience. We also popped a seasick pill with our meal just in case.

The pills worked wonders. We were both konked out in no time in our comfortable chairs, blissfully unaware of the heaving vessel that carried us away from mainland Canada. The crossing took about five hours. When we regained consciousness and tried to move about, we reeled like drunken sailors, grabbing for railings whenever possible! So most of the time we just zoned out in our chairs. The driving rain pelted against the windows and all one could see through the wet glass were white-capped swells and grey sky, so we didn’t miss a whole lot.

Finally, we returned to our vehicles as we arrived at Port aux Basques, and filed onto shore. The John T. Cheeseman Provincial Park campground where we are staying was just 10 km from the town, and we arrived before a great horde of other campers, so we didn’t have long to wait to get registered and settled in our reserved site. With only electricity to hook up, we were inside in the dry in no time.

A lake with a golden arm

North Sydney, NS – Actually, our campground has that label but it’s to the south in a place called New Harris. We’re about 15 minutes away from the town of North Sydney. Must be accurate!

It was a chilly wakeup this morning: a mere nine degrees outside, and not many more inside. Thank goodness for our down-filled duvet, which makes it unnecessary to run the furnace while we sleep. It was good to see the sunshine today, and to feel the warmth from my coffee mug.

It was the first morning of the trip that we didn’t have to pack up and get going, so we savoured it! By 11 o’clock we were ready to do a bit of exploring, so we headed south to have a look at Baddeck (pronounced buh-DECK).

This small town is on the shore of Bras d’Or Lake, uniquely described as “a sea, within an island, within an ocean” by UNESCO which declared it a special reserve in 2011. With a mixture of fresh and salt water, the lake supports a wide variety of creatures in it and around it, including the many tourists who come to the beautiful resort hotels and sail on its sparkling waters.

Probably its most famous resident was Alexander Graham Bell, who built a home here. After the success of his invention, the telephone, he had enough revenue to allow his research into flying machines. It was on the frozen surface of Bras d’Or Lake that he and his team of inventors set the Silver Dart into flight in 1909 – the first controlled powered flight in Canada.

We had a look at the Parks Canada museum about Bell and his inventions. It was interesting to learn that in his teens he was not doing very well academically, but after spending time with his grandfather, a man of learning and curiosity, he was properly launched and went on to great achievements. His first focus was on speech, elocution and teaching the deaf to speak, but his curiosity led him in many directions.

Our lunch stop was at the Bell Bouy, a nice restaurant overlooking the sailing club and lake, where we enjoyed a delicious seafood chowder and lobster sandwich on oatmeal bread, followed by a shared slice of Nova Scotia blueberry pie. Yum!

We took a short stroll down to see the sailboats and small lighthouse before heading back toward the campground. Aside from picking up a few supplies and getting the car washed, that was the extent of our activities today.

We’re all set for an early start tomorrow. We have to report to the ferry two hours before it sails, so that means we have to get to North Sydney by 9:45. We won’t get to the other side till suppertime!

We’ll be staying at John T. Cheeseman Provincial Park, just near our landing point in Port aux Basques, for two nights. We will not have an internet connection there, so the blog will be silent for a couple of days. We’ll catch up as soon as we can get online again.