Looking for Birds

Because of its location near some of the most productive fishing grounds in the world (or at least they used to be), Newfoundland is the nesting ground for many pelagic species of birds.

To see them, one simply has to walk out on a remote headland...

...and look down.

If there's an island off the tip of the headland...

...you're likely to see more interesting nesters.

Puffins build their nests in burrows...

...and often disappear into them when they see a photographer arrive.

Guillimots are less shy.

Many pelagic birds choose remote islands as a hedge against terrestrial predators like fox or rats. These black-legged kittiwakes choose steep cliffs for the same reason.

Nesting in large colonies also helps.

A large colony on an island with steep cliffs - perfect!.

Of course, these strategies offer only partial protection from avian predators, like this immature bald eagle.

The Road to Lumsden

After a couple of days in the Twillingate area, we pack up the wet tent and begin the long drive to the Bonavista Peninsula. Instead of driving south down to the Trans Canada Highway, we follow Route 330 and 320 along the "Straight Coast" hoping we might see an iceberg or two.


Of course, I'm unable to resist exploring any smaller routes we happen to pass on the way. When I see Route 332 heading northwest towards Frederickton, I follow it. Jude spots this interesting gravestone outside of Davidsville.


After 18 miles of frost-heaved asphalt and gravel, we return to Route 330 and follow it towards Musgrave Harbour. Here the road hugs the coastline but heavy fog just offshore means there's little chance of seeing any icebergs. However, we do see a fine assortment of beachfront dwellings, including this trailer.


Pushing on, we take yet another detour on a small dirt road that leads out to the west side of Deadman's Bay. Though the sun breaks through the fog, there's still a strong onshore gale. We explore a few coastal bogs before stopping for a late lunch on a small beach.


Tired from driving, we decide to give up on reaching Bonavista today and find a local B&B for the night. In Lumsden, we find a rather new-ish cottage instead and, once again, spread our wet gear about the small bedroom to dry. The fog has retreated further offshore and we take a walk out a long sandy spit of land that once was the location of the village of North Lumsden.


Now it's mostly the location of small summer homes and old trailers with a diverse array of fences surrounding old pastures and gardens.


Before heading back to our cottage, Jude continues her quest to load the car with 100 pounds of rocks during the trip. Here she makes her selection.


Admiring the rock.


Adding the rock to the pack.

The Quick Brown Fox

We heard there was a tame fox hanging around at the lighthouse in Twillingate.


I didn't really go looking for her, I was just walking around to get a photo of the buildings.


But I turned around and there she was, right behind me.


And though she seemed rather unfazed by me looking at her...


... she really didn't like the sound of my camera shutter.

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.

Searching for Icebergs - Part 1

After our night in Woody Point, we make the long drive to Twillingate. The weather is cool but not rainy - the sun actually comes out!


We leave the Trans Canada highway for a short side trip, stopping at the old sulphur mine on Pilley's Island before driving out to Brighton.


In Brighton, we climb a long and steep set of stairs to a viewpoint on the headland and scan the horizon, hoping to spot an iceberg, but see none.


We do get a nice view of a backyard garden in the town below. Jude wants to shout down advice, but I restrain her. After lunch on the headland, we drive back to the Trans Canada and head on towards Twillingate.


By the time we reach Dildo Run Provincial Park (no snickering!) the day has turned cloudy with occasional showers. We set up camp and have a quick supper and then drive out to Twillingate Lighthouse.


On the drive out to the light Jude finally spots an iceberg off to the east. After a bit of map study, I determine it's off French Head north of the town of Durrell. As twilight gathers, we follow a road along the coast to Durrell.


It's not a direct route. The road goes in and out and around numerous coves before ending as a narrow dirt track with a sign warning the road is impassable ahead. We pull over and follow the track on foot. After a few lengthy "shortcuts" (mea culpa) we crest a col on the headland and get a glimpse of the iceberg in the failing light. The wind is blowing hard and occasionally showers pelt us as we sit and watch the berg. The eerie calls of snipe flying overhead adds to the otherworldly feeling of the place. After half an hour we turn to hike back to the car in the dark, reaching it just as the skies open up with a cold, steady rain.

Trout River and the Tablelands

After our stay at Cheeseman Park we head towards the small village of Trout River - the location of an outlying campground in Gros Morne National Park. It's a rainy day when we set out but the weather improves to just fog by the time we reach the Bonne Bay area.


The next day the fog has cleared but skies remain overcast. This gives us our first view up the Trout River valley.


After packing up our gear we head towards Woody Point, driving through the serpentine barrens of the Tablelands. The red rocks here come from a slab of the earth's mantle which was thrust up on top of the underlying rocks when Africa collided with North America 470 million years ago.


Because of the peculiar geology, the rocks lack calcium and other minerals that most plants require to grow. Hence, only a few hardy plants can survive in this area. Jude does her best to find and identify them during sporadic showers.


Because of the peculiar geology the area is popular with field trips. Here, two groups, one composed of senior citizens and the other of high-school students, listen to a park naturalist explain the history of the area during a lull between showers.


Jude's search turns up some interesting plants that you wouldn't expect to find in such a barren location, like this Maidenhair Fern...


... or this Yellow Lady's Slipper.


There are also plenty of Pitcher Plants which look odd perched among the rocks.


Eventually, the showers become less sporadic and more torrential. We head to Woody Point to have a late lunch and check email at the local library. The skies partially clear. While Jude takes some time to work on her postcards, I take a walk down Main Street.


As I walk up the street towards the Woody Point Lighthouse, the skies again darken suddenly and a veil of rain appears over the mountains to the east of the town.


Looking down Bonne Bay, I try to figure out if this squall will pass by to the north or sweep down the bay to Woody Point.


I reach the lighthouse moments before the rain hits. I can hear it coming, drumming on the rooftops of nearby buildings as I take this photo. When I return to the car - soaked - I pledge never to take a walk again on this trip without carrying my raincoat or an umbrella.


Because of the continuing rain, we decide to stay at a bed and breakfast for the night instead of camping. In our room we spread out the tent and other gear to dry and walk the short way to downtown Woody Point for supper (with an umbrella). I order baked beans and crab cakes, Jude has pan fried cod and a baked potato.


After supper the skies finally clear though the weather looks unsettled over Gros Morne to the north.