Searching for Icebergs - Part 2

After a night of steady rain and gusty winds, we head back to Durrell to get a better view of the iceberg. We park again at the end of the road and the beginning of the track, but now there are three or four other cars already there. As we put on our rain gear, a middle aged couple appear - he tall and hatless with rainwater dripping off his nose, hair plastered to his head. She is short and wrapped in a raincoat with a hat pulled down tight, lips slightly blue. Through chattering teeth, he describes the route to get to the best view of the iceberg. "Stay to the the right where the trail forks. It's really windy, but it's the best view!" he exclaims. Moments later a second couple appears, dressed more warmly than the first. "Stay to the left and follow the trail past the cottage - that's the best view".


We compromise and follow the trail past the cottage, THEN turn right across a bog towards a deep cove which gives a nice, framed view of the iceberg. The wind is strong, but mercifully the rain has mostly stopped. Jude and I yell to each other our plans to get a better view. Neither of us understand what the other says. I head west expecting Jude will soon follow. Jude heads east expecting me to do the same.


I follow the trail up and over a headland. The iceberg appears tantalizingly near, but thick tuckamore makes it impossible to get closer.


I continue on the trail until I see a rope that leads down a narrow, steep gorge to a small cove. Perhaps if I go down there I can get a closer view.


After a barely controlled decent over loose gravel and sharp rocks, I reach the bottom of the gorge. It's a small cove that, while protected from the wind, is swept continuously by a large swell. The iceberg seems no closer.


I use the rope to return to the top of the gorge - stopping many times to wait for small avalanches of scree to pass and to catch my breath. At the top I expect to see Jude looking for me, but she's nowhere to be seen. Using my binoculars I see a small figure walking the crest of the headland to the west. The hat is distinctive.


Following a maze of trails, I eventually locate Jude sitting in a small sheltered pocket of heath, busily drawing plants, birds and the iceberg. "I was beginning to worry about you - I thought you might have fallen off a cliff" she says.


We sit and watch the iceberg for a while. Every fourth or fifth wave makes a large BOOM! when it hits the berg at just the right angle. The mist becomes thicker and eventually turns into a light shower. We return to the car and head to Twillingate for lunch at a small bakery.