A Quick Trip to Newfoundland - The road north

I get up very early and quickly pack everything while my stove heats up water for coffee. I’m planning to have my “real” breakfast somewhere on the road overlooking Bonne Bay. As I leave the campground, a young moose bolts from a ditch and runs across the road mere inches in front of my bumper.

I stop quickly and hop out to try for a picture but she’s long gone by the time my feet hit the gravel. However, I look down and spot a small snail crossing the road ahead of my front tires so I take his picture instead.

A small picnic park on the north shore of Bonne Bay serves as my breakfast nook.

I also take the opportunity to reorganize the back of the Element so I can more easily get at things I might need during the day (like my rain coat).

The weather alternates between showers and fog so I continue north on Route 430 through Gros Morne and past the various “scenic attractions” announced on roadside signs.

Somewhere around Port au Choix, the rain stops and the clouds lift and I see blue sky ahead. When I reach Saint Barbe, it has become a fine day and wherever the road follows the coast, I peer across the Strait of Belle Isle trying to get a glimpse of Labrador’s coast, 12 miles away. However, the fog lies a few miles offshore and I see nothing. Except, there is something out there. A large sailboat?

I pull over and get out my binoculars. An iceberg!

At Eddies Cove Route 430 head east and leaves the Strait of Belle Isle and the icebergs behind. Along the road I notice many small fenced in areas.


These are Newfoundland gardens plots, planted out here in the relatively rich soils away from the coast and the salt spray.

Unlike the Tablelands, the bedrock underlying this region of Newfoundland is limestone and, where the soil is thick enough, it’s relatively good for growing.

Where the soil isn’t thick and the winds are strong (pretty much everywhere) a number of rare plants still occur, taking advantage of the small, sheltered micro-climates in the cracked limestone barrens.

It’s late afternoon when I reach Pistolet Bay Provincial Park. I set up my tent and have a real meal, my first in three days. The sun is still high in the sky – it doesn’t set until 9:30 at this latitude – so I take a drive out to Cape Onion.

The horizon is dotted with icebergs, though only a few small ones are in the bay.

There’s a small cemetery next to a church on the Cape and as I follow a trail past it I find a lone grave in a sheltered swale a few hundred yards below it:

BABY BOY ANDREWs
Born Sept 21, 1969
Died Sept 29, 1969

As the sun slips behind the fog bank hanging in the Strait, I head back to my tent and wondering about the circumstances of his birth and death and why he’s buried here, outside the churchyard.

A Quick Trip to Newfoundland - Heading to Trout Brook

I’ve been to Newfoundland a lot in the last 35 years. However, most of my trips have been to the Avalon Peninsula on the eastern side of the island. I’ve only been to the tip of the Northern Peninsula and Labrador once – about 30 years ago. So, on this short trip, my vague plan is to explore this part of the island with a side trip to Labrador if time permits.

After getting off the ferry I head to Cheeseman Provincial Park outside Port aux Basques for a quick a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the road again. The day is overcast with occasional rain. I decide I’ll drive until I’m tired and then find a place to camp. I play leapfrog with the slow-moving RVs on the road. I pass “Minnie Winnie” a half-dozen times only to have her overtake me when I stop for a photo or coffee.


After 170 miles, I reach Deer Lake and decide I’ll camp at Trout River in Gros Morne National Park. After a stop at a grocery store for a few supplies (including a box of Purity Cream Crackers) I head down Route 430 towards Wiltondale and the turn off to Trout River about 25 miles away.

The road to Trout River takes me through the Tablelands – a series of flat topped mountains that are actually a piece of the earth’s mantle which was thrust up onto the underlying rock when Africa collided with North America about 470 million years ago.

The red rocks are very low in calcium, very high in magnesium, and have a variety of heavy metals which make them toxic to most plants.

Last winter’s snow is still visible in many of the deep ravines near the tops of the mountains.

The clouds hang low over their tops, giving the landscape a foreboding mood.

When I get to the campground, I'm too tired to do much else other than eat a pack of Ramen noodles set up my tent and go to bed.

A Quick Trip to Newfoundland - The crossing

I generally find the rocking of a ship a soothing motion. However, not everyone does. Throughout the night an endless parade of passengers hurriedly make there way to the restroom near my "bunk", including the boy with the squeaky sneakers. A teenage girl with hiccups wanders through the lounge a half-dozen times, like a small wraith haunting the ship.

At 5:00 AM, after 3 hours of non-sleep, I see the sky has lightened and make my way to the upper deck. We are about halfway to Newfoundland and the sky has cleared somewhat.

As the sun peaks over the horizon, I take a tour of our ship, the MV Leif Ericson.




The lifeboats. I decide I really wouldn't want to spend much time in these...

The upper deck with only two benches. I suppose most people spend their time below in the cafeteria.

The sun shows itself only briefly before disappearing behind the clouds overhead, leaving a blank horizon.

At 7:00, the cafeteria opens and I head below to get a cup of coffee. When I come back on deck I get my first glimpse of Port aux Basques, our destination.

The Lief Ericison makes a long turn into the harbor giving a better view.

As we approach the ferry terminal, the ships P.A. announces that we should head for the car deck. Though, I know it'll be a bit before we dock, I follow the herd to the bowels of the ship.

On the car deck the Ferry men return and congregate at the rear door of the ship. We entered the ship through the bow in North Sydney, and now we'll exit through the stern. Outside, the ship is pirouetting and backing into the Terminal ramp. The engine noise is loud and accompanied by various deep rumbles and vibrations and the occasional hard jolt. I wonder how the hiccupping wraith is doing.

Finally it all comes to a halt and as the stern door lifts a bit of natural light filters into our neon undersea world.

Though it will still be 5 minutes before we can actually leave, SUVs, Winnebagos and 18-wheelers all start their engines at the sight of the light. Soon, in the distance, I can see the Ferry men frantically waving for the the front vehicles to move. Though I was the last vehicle on the boat, by luck I get to slip past a large group of trucks and RVs which need space to maneuver.

Once I hit the the ramp, there is no stopping for photos. I'm in the midst of small rush-hour's worth of traffic all rushing towards their home, their work, their vacation! I'm too busy watching out for the semi to my right as a VW passes me on my left and a Winnebago hits his brakes in front to look at much else.

Finally, the cars and trailers disperse a bit and I pull over to get my bearings. I'm in Newfoundland!

A Quick Trip to Newfoundland - The drive

It's July and I have a break in work before a busy August. Jude's at a show in Connecticut. I decide to head to Newfoundland.



My ferry reservation is for 9:00 AM on Tuesday. If I leave Monday afternoon I can take my time on the 12 hour drive to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, stay at a cheap motel (or sleep in the car) and easily make the ferry. By 1:00 PM the car is loaded and I head out in the rain. It's a good day to drive. I cross the border into Canada around 5:00 PM and make a stop at Ossie's outside Bethel, New Brunswick, for a clam roll.



Fortified, I push on. The sun sets, though I don't see it in the scattered showers. It's a good night to drive. An idea starts to form in my head. If I keep driving, I might catch the 2:00 AM ferry instead of the 9:00 AM. I have no reservation but there might be room or a cancellation. The worse case is I'll sleep in the car at the ferry terminal. The best case is I'll get to Newfoundland on Tuesday morning at 8:00 instead of Tuesday evening.

The fates start to work against me. I get lost for a short time in Amherst, Nova Scotia, when I exit the Trans Canada highway to get a cup of coffee and can't find how to get back to an on-ramp. Then my credit card company puts a hold on my card when I try to get gas in New Glasgow because I've filled my tank three times in the last 9 hours and it doesn't match my "usual buying pattern". Finally, at 1:00 AM, somewhere between Baddeck and North Sydney, I get pulled over by the RCMP for speeding. I was going 60 miles per hour in a 60 kilometers per hour zone. However, the Mountie is quite friendly (unlike any State Troopers I've ever met in similar circumstances) and she let's me off with a gentle reprimand and warns me that one of her colleagues is waiting further down the road. She also let's me know that I should have no trouble reaching North Sydney before 2:00AM.

At 1:30 AM I pull into the ferry terminal parking lot. The sleepy attendant in the booth tells me I probably won't get on, but takes my money and directs me to Lane 8. I'm the last car in line.



A take a short walk around the lot. Many people are dozing in their front seats. A few stand around outside their cars smoking. The guy in front of me tells me the ferry's full, we probably won't make it on board. At 1:45, the Ferry men show up and start waving flashlights. The smokers ditch their butts, and car engines stutter to life. The lanes on either side of us move forward in fits and starts and then Lane 8 starts to move. I can hear snippets of conversation as the Ferry men radio to the boat reporting the status of the waiting vehicles - "We got two SUV's towing pop-ups and a 24 foot Airstream in Lane 7..." "Okay, send the pop-ups". Like a game of musical chairs, the drivers eye each other as the Ferry men stop the flow from one lane and wave furiously for the next to get moving. Finally, I hear the call from the boat "We got room for two more..." The Ferry man to my left points to me and the car in front and motions with his light for us to go. I'm the last on the ferry. The Airstream and a Semi in Lane 7 kill their engines.

Once on board, the Ferry men draw a chain behind my car and disappear. It takes me several moments to figure out (and find) what I should bring with me to the passenger deck for the evening's cruise. When I do, I realize I'm alone on the car deck. I savor the moment. "I made it!" A Klaxon alarm jolts me from my reverie as the car ramp rises and the bow doors start to descend 20 feet behind my car.



I grab my pack and a small pillow and find my way to the stairs to the upper decks. My short delay has cost me dearly. I reach the sleeping "lounges" - auditorium sized rooms filled with airline-style recliners - only to find most of the seats already occupied with cramped bodies, trying to sleep. I work my way from one lounge to the next looking for an empty seat. Finally, near the bow of the boat, I find a vacant spot in the last row of seats near a hallway and bathroom. The seat doesn't fully recline. In front on me a young boy with squeaky sneakers shifts his feet. Then he shifts again. Then again. A women two rows in front and to my right opens a bag of chips. A large bag. She eats a chip. Then another. And another. The lights go out. Except for one. The one that shines directly into my eyes. It's going to a long night.