LABRADOR (PART 1)

AFTER A WET DAY ON THE TRANS LABRADOR HIGHWAY

EASTERN CANADA JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY

LABRADOR (PART 1)

JUNE 21-25

FERRY TO BLANC SABLON

As the massive amount of water being disgorged into the Atlantic Ocean from the Gulf of St. Lawrence collides with the winds that often push westward from the sea, this can cause some “lumpy” conditions.  The worst part for the ship is that it has to be backed into the very unprotected dock at Blanc Sablon on the other side.  If the wind is pushing too hard, the captain just can’t safely bring it in to port.  We were warned that if docking proved impossible, we would just turn around and return to St. Barbe, not an appealing alternative.  As it turned out, the seas were not too bad, with just a slight roll to the massive ferry.  The captain expertly swung the ship around as we neared the Quebec port and backed her in, right on target on the first pass, using the sturdy dock as a lever to pry the boat into its pier.  I suspected he’s done this before.

Labrador, at last!  The coast is radically different from Newfoundland.  There are no trees.  Barren rock, rounded from multiple glaciations, is everywhere.  Structures seem to be merely perched on the land instead of anchored to it.  There is a hard life to be had in Labrador.  We drove off the boat at 6:30 PM and headed northeast on Route 510 toward our lodging for the night at the Oceanview Resort in West St. Modeste.  The road is paved here, so the driving was easy.  The sad part was that our ferry was so late that we had to miss our visit to the Red Bay Archaeological Site.  At about the same time that Chris Columbus was puttering around the Caribbean, “discovering” America, Basque sailors in search of whales had set up camp here.  Due to the cold water and air, the remains of their ovens, meat and oil processing structures and even a wooden ship sunk in shallow water have been beautifully preserved.  It is a National Historic Site well worth the visit.  We also missed a visit to Pinware Valley Provincial Park on the Pinware River, regarded as one of the best birding sites in Labrador.

Red Bay is also the end of the paved road for the next 400 miles or so.  Instead, through the rain, fog and wind, we beheld a wide dirt and gravel highway leading north.  This section of the “new” road opened about 10 years ago, connecting small fishing communities along the eastern shore of Labrador to the outside world by road for the first time.  The only other access had been by ship or small land or sea plane.  We continued north to the small town of Mary’s Harbour, the headquarters of the Battle Harbour National Historic District.  This small island fishing town is an intact example of the way fishing was conducted in Newfoundland and Labrador until the 1930s, when the town was abandoned after a fire.  A major restoration program in the 1990s recreated what life was like for the fishermen in this outport.  Tourists can now take the ferry to the island, spend the night in rustic quarters, eat fresh local food and walk the island’s trails to have an authentic experience.  We were scheduled to spend the night there, so we hunkered down in our rain gear and made for the office only to be informed that the island was “storm bound” and inaccessible.  C’est la vie.  We ended up spending the night at Campbell’s B&B in Port Hope Simpson, an old logging town just 60 kilometers down the pike.  We used the bad weather to our advantage, taking a break from our somewhat hectic schedule and relaxing in this little community.  Our Bed was across the street from our Breakfast, but the room was comfy, dinner was in the Campbell’s restaurant and bakery, a full breakfast was served and we left town with a partidgeberry bread, which was more like a gigantic delicious muffin.  

FLY-CASTING FOR BROOK TROUT

Better gas up before leaving Port Hope Simpson, because there are no services between here and Goose Bay, almost 240 miles distant.  Gas started getting a tad pricey here, cresting at CAN$1.50/litre in Cartwright, a 40 mile detour we took to further explore the area.  

OLD BEAR

GRAY JAY (IMM)

The road to Cartwright is dirt, of course, but very serviceable as long as you go slowly.  We averaged about 35 MPH when we were moving, but stopped often to look at one magnificent river or lake after another.  I even managed to wet a line here and there to annoy some trout.  Most of the rivers, however, are “scheduled” Atlantic Salmon migratory and breeding water, so you can’t fish them without a special salmon license.  The highlight of the trip in and out of town, though, had to be the black bears.  We saw a couple of them moving slowly through alder swales. We also saw a sow and a tiny cub at her elbow (do bears have elbows?).  Adorable.  Another old bear stood up to watch us and then swam across a small creek.  Multiple families of Gray Jays (also known as Canada Jay, Whiskey Jack and Camp Robber due to their thieving ways) floated across the road and were curious enough about us to allow photos.  A Peregrine Falcon shot across a rocky barren like a fighter jet in search of prey.  Cartwright itself was a town in a state of disrepair, despite being one of the largest coastal villages where 628 people call it home.  Unlike most other small communities we had visited, many houses and their surroundings were in poor condition.  A peeling Avis Car Rental sign on a broken down building near the docks reinforced the feeling of decay.  Our motel, the Cartwright Hotel, was the happening place to be.  On the outskirts of town and under significant renovation, with a dining room specializing in Chester Fried Chicken, how could you go wrong?  I always wondered if Chester was a relative. 

ALDER FLYCATCHER

SUNDEW

WILSON'S WARBLER

We took a little walk after a dinner of chicken and fries and found a side road up the hill from the motel.  Insectivorous sundew plants were common at the edge of the dirt track.  To our delight, Fox and White-crowned Sparrows were singing their pure sweet whistling songs and to our surprise, a Tennessee Warbler was belting out its three-part serenade.  A couple of Alder Flycatchers chased each other around,  frequently pausing to sing, “free beer!”  As we went further north, Tennessee’s became the most common warbler and sang so loudly, that we could endlessly hear them even as we drove along the noisy gravel roads.  

COTTON GRASS

RED FOX, BLACK MORPH

I continued fly-casting at a few roadside streams and hit the jackpot at one fifteen-foot wide riffle.  I walked down to the water and fish literally exploded from the water at my feet.  I started to drool and my casting arm began to twitch.  I flicked a small white dry fly  out into the current and held my breath.  Not for long.  Bam!  I ended up catching over a dozen of these little beauties in about 15 minutes!  This WAS shooting fish in a barrel.    Would have made a nice lunch, but they all went back in the water.  Just to complete the wonderment, a Wilson’s Warbler began to sing and this ordinarily “quick-moving through dense cover” species was kind enough to permit a photo.  And, believe it or not, the sun came out.  Along with mosquitoes, but who really cared?  The only downside of warm dry weather was a dusty road.  Whenever a truck went by, the dust cloud was visible for miles.  Just pull over and get out of the way, to try and save your windshield and headlights from rocks.  Whenever we stopped to photograph the abundant cotton grass or other roadside flowers, local drivers pulled up and inquired if we are OK.  A small problem out here can turn into a big problem very easily, so you have to be careful.  The road itself can become quite monotonous, with long stretches winding endlessly through dense swaths of black spruce, but you never know what could be over the next hill.  We saw both red and black foxes on the road.  

Ultimately, we descended into the Churchill River Valley and hit pavement again, like riding on a cloud.  The forest changed to much more deciduous, with broad stretches of aspen and birch.   

SAND DUNES ALONG HIGHWAY

Our lodging in Goose Bay was at the Hotel North 1, a place that from the exterior, looked as attractive as a box car, but offered excellent accommodations.  With 7500 people, Goose Bay/Happy Valley is the second largest community in Labrador.  Located on a very flat, sandy plain that is the former glacial delta of the Churchill River, Goose Bay’s sand deposits may be as much as 500 feet deep.  There are even windswept dunes far from the sea.  The hotel is right next to the airport, which features the longest runway in North America and is an alternate landing site for the space shuttle, an unusual addition for the bush pilots who regularly use its tarmac.  The town has everything a visitor could want, except a car wash that was much needed for mud covered travelers from the south (us).  There is a wide variety of restaurants, ranging from fairly good hotel eateries (The Mariner next door or the Labrador Inn just down the street were both good) to fast-food joints.  There is even a somewhat shaggy nine-hole golf course, with greens that resembled deep pile carpet.  It stays light so late in June at this latitude that we could have gone out until 10:30, but we were pretty beat after the long drive and just relaxed.

To be continued...

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