NEWFOUNDLAND WEST AND NORTH (PART 2

EASTERN CANADA JOURNEY OF DISCOVERY

NEWFOUNDLAND WEST AND NORTH (PART 2)

THE TABLELANDS, GROS MORNE 

JUNE 18-21, 2011

TROUT RIVER

The following day we drove about two hours north to Gros Morne National Park.  The park is split into south and north sections, divided by fjordlike Bonne Bay.  Flanked by towering round-topped glaciated mountains that fall steeply into the sea, the bay plays summer host to a variety of whale species.  These cetaceans come in search of capelin, a small herring sized fish that move into the bays to spawn toward the end of June.  I read that Gros Morne NP is like the Galapagos Islands of geology and after a visit to the new Discovery Center in Woody Point you understand the basis of the description.  Literally, there are rocks and formations here that are found nowhere else on earth!  The most spectacular is the Tablelands on the south side.  Rising 1500 feet above the sea, these barren mustard colored mountains and plateau were originally part of the earth’s mantle, ordinarily found thousands of feet below the planet’s crust.  Millions of years ago, however, when two tectonic plates collided, the lower plate, which usually subducts, or goes under the prevailing higher plate, instead overrode it, leaving a large portion of the deepest part of the earth on its surface.  The most unusual rock here is serpentine, a green stone that is heavily veined and is completely unique on the planet.  Virtually no vegetation grows on the Tablelands, since this rock does not break down into receptive soil.  A very easy trail leads along the base of the Tablelands. Continuing on along the same road, we arrived at the small fishing village of Trout River.  We dined at the widely acclaimed Seaside Restaurant (call/write for reservations, 709-451-3461, vmanorgrosmorne@eastlink.ca).  There were many specialties, but Gale had the fresh cod and I went for the capelin.  Not only do whales eat them!  These little fish, lightly pan fried, are eaten whole, head, fins, guts and all.  Very tasty crunchy mouthfuls!

We spent the night at the lovely Red Mantle Lodge (www.redmantlelodge.ca) in Shoal Brook.  While checking in, Rodney, the owner said, “Wanna see a moose?”, like he was hawking off-color products in Times Square.  But this was more like Animal Planet, as we peeked out the dining room window to see Bullwinkle, sporting a new set of handlebar antlers, chowing down on the back yard grass.

BULLWINKLE

FOX SPARROW

YELLOW-BELLIED FLYCATCHER

Despite fairly chilly and windy weather, the next day we decided to hike up to the base of Gros Morne mountain, in the north section of the park.  The mountain is very unique, both from geological and wildlife perspectives.  Highly rounded from multiple episodes of glaciation, the crown of the mountain, usually capped with fog, is almost completely barren of vegetation due to extreme weather conditions.  Relict species from the last ice age, like caribou, snowshoe hare, rock ptarmigan and other usual tundra nesting species like horned lark and American Pipit can be found on the summit.  To protect them, access to the top is permitted only after July 1.  To get there, a two-mile climb through the forest is required, then a very steep ascent up a gully filled with scree - loose quartz rocks that slip and slide under your feet while making finger nail across the blackboard sounds.  The first two miles is moderately hard, but the final climb is extremely difficult.  Bring lots of water, food, insect repellent and blister pads for your hiking boot encased feet.  Once you reach the top, be prepared for bad weather, fog and cold, in treacherous conditions that can change rapidly.  It’s too dangerous to come down the same way you went up, so hikers must cross the summit and circle around the back of the mountain to return.  It’s an arduous full-day excursion.  On the other hand, on a clear day, the views from the top are nothing short of spectacular!  We only went to the base of the mountain, gaining elevation almost all the way.  Many birds sang from the forest and we were able to see Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, many Magnolia Warblers, Bay-breasted Warbler, Northern Waterthrush, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, sweet and loud singing Fox Sparrow and huge dark American Robins.  These large robins are actually the ones that winter in Connecticut.  When we returned to the parking lot, we were greeted by a cow moose and her newborn calf, which appeared and disappeared back into the dense forest like apparitions.  Dinner and the night were in Rocky Harbour.  There are many accommodations here and we found a little jewel of a restaurant - Earle’s - on the main drag.  Quiet and unassuming, all the fresh local seafood can be found here at a lower price than the other popular tourist eateries.  I had about the best halibut dinner ever and Gale enjoyed cod stuffed with snow crab.

AMERICAN ROBIN

We followed the Long Range of mountains north as we skirted Newfoundland’s western coastline.  Most still had accumulations of snow on their slopes and the meltwater flowed rapidly to the sea in numerous creeks and rivers.  Along the highway were small subsistence gardens, privately maintained to provide veggies for the residents.  We continued to see more of these garden plots along the road the further north we went.  Other than the small villages along the coast, there isn’t much habitation here.  Each house had its massive pile of cut firewood neatly stacked alongside.  During the winter, using snowmobiles and large sleds with frame boxes on them, residents go into the dense forests to cut wood for the following year, hauling the wood out to the road.  Stacks are piled high and labeled with the owner’s name.  Everyone respects each other’s wood caches, as these are the means for surviving the coming winter.

The Torrent River Salmon Interpretive Center was a worthwhile stop.  This relatively new facility showcases the impressive migrations runs of the anadromous Atlantic Salmon, which can make up to seven runs during its life between the river of its birth and the open sea.  If you visit during the summer, you can use an underwater viewing port to watch wild salmon going upstream.  There are 107 rivers in Newfoundland and Labrador that are used by these magnificent fish and their spawning runs usually begin toward the end of June, with the youngest fish returning first.  

Canada has done a wonderful job with building interpretative centers at its most important historic, geologic and natural history sites, including the one at Port-aux-Choix, which chronicles the prehistorical lives of native Americans in the area.  Dating from almost 5,000 years ago, aboriginal humans inhabited these shores, mainly to enjoy the riches of the sea.  Various peoples lived here, most notably the Dorsets, who were here when Vikings made first landfall 1,000 years ago.  The later Beothuk people were here when Europeans came to stay 400 years ago, but all have disappeared due to disease and other causes.  Contact with disease-bearing Europeans was never a healthy choice for any non-European people.  Most notable was the highly developed technology used by these aboriginal people to hunt seals, with many examples of detachable harpoon heads that could be thrown with a spear, allowing the hunter to retrieve the animal with the attached line.  

Despite the rain and wind, we drove the extra mile out to the Point Riche lighthouse.  Just offshore, a spout shot above the foaming sea - “thar she blows!”  An adult and what seemed to be two calf humpback whales were feeding and cavorting only a few hundred yards out.  With open windows on the leeward side of the car, our binoculars permitted great views of these leviathans  of the deep as they chased capelin and eventually sounded, showing massive flukes for the dive.  While being greatly entertained by the whales, a pod of a dozen Atlantic white-sided dolphins sped by, showing tall sickle-shaped dorsal fins, slash-feeding as they also chased the diminutive fish.  Accompanying the dolphins was a torrent of plunge-diving northern gannets and hundreds of gulls, all after the little fish the dolphins had chased up to the surface.

When here, definitely pay a visit to The Anchor Cafe (709-861-3665) in “downtown” Port-aux-Choix.  All the seafood is fresh and excellent and you can’t beat the seafood chowder.  For dessert, we shared a “figgy duff”, comfort food for Newfoundlanders.  This consists of two steamed puddings, one white (vanilla) and one dark (molasses, raisins, cloves), served steaming hot covered with a warm vanilla sauce.  

Turning east, we cut over toward the “French Coast”, the wild east coast of Newfoundland.  Hard to resist was a turn-off for an Underground Salmon Pool on the Beaver Brook, named one of the Seven Wonders of Newfoundland.  This part of the island is comprised largely of limestone, a chemically basic rock that is soft and easily dissolved by the peaty acidic waters from surface streams.  As a result, the rivers often carve out holes where they simply “disappear” underground, running through unseen passages until they reappear some distance away.  The salmon simply migrate right through these dark passages.  

We detoured to the small fishing village of Conche’, set at the base of the extremely rugged and ragged cliffs that plunge 1000 feet from the Long Range down to the sea, often with magnificent braided waterfalls.  Moose were fairly common and much caution is advised when driving.  Check the roadside ponds and pools as well - we saw breeding pairs of Common Goldeneye, Ring-necked Ducks, and Common Loons.

DENNIS PILGRIM

Just off Route 432 south of the town of Main Brook is the rustically beautiful Tuckamore Lodge (www.tuckamorelodge.com), comprised of several two-story log buildings for accommodations and dining.  Primarily used as an upscale base for hunters and fishermen, the lodge itself is exquisite in both its Scandanavian design and furnishings. The lodge fronts a tranquil lake, available for canoeing, kayaking and fishing, where nesting loons entertain with their eerie calls.  Unusual and ironic is that the Lodge was founded and built by a woman, Barb Genge, but caters almost exclusively to men.  Barb is trying to change this profile by offering a women-only fly-fishing week, which will cater to both the experienced and novices alike.  You couldn’t imagine a better place to do it.  In fact, I decided to spend a cold, wet, windy morning with Dennis Pilgrim, local resident and guide, seeking out native brook trout with my 5-weight Sage fly rod.  We bounced along old rutted logging roads, deeper and deeper into the bush, until Dennis announced, “This ‘ere’s where we’re gettin’ hoot.”  Duh yeh mind walkin’ a bit?”  Sometimes, it wasn’t easy understanding Dennis, with his thick northern Newfie brogue.  The local patois drops the H’s, and adds them to every word starting with a vowel.  As in, “The hairport is height miles nort, hat St. Hanthony, aboot a turty minute drive, if hit’s na rainin’.”  On the other hand, how much do you need to understand when you’re goin’ a troutin’?  

DENNIS FLY-CASTING AT BROUSEY HOLE

A TRIO OF BROOK TROUT FOR THE PAN

We walked about a mile through the bush to the Brousey Hole, a small river that appears, rapidly descends through a series of trout-filled rapids through a broad meadow and then disappears between two cleft rocks, continuing its ultimate course to the sea underground. This is both geology and hydrology with which New Englanders have little familiarity.  Ahhh, but the fish!  We worked the riffles and pools below each rapid and I managed to land 15 beautifully speckled brook trout, ranging from 6-14 inches in length, in about two hours.  Each fish is so magnificently colored with blue and red spots, flaming orange belly and white-lined fins on a chrome-beige background, that it’s like a work of art.  We kept five for lunch, which the cooks at the lodge were happy to add to the menu.  Great salmon fishing is also available nearby starting near the end of June.

We pushed further north to L’Anse aux Meadows, site of the Viking colony that existed for several years on the very northern tip of Newfoundland 1000 years ago.  Once again, the site is beautifully developed with a new interpretive center, recreated sod huts equipped with all the gear the Vikings may have had in those days.  After playing with very heavy and cold swords, helmets and shields, putting furs around our shoulders and talking with the guide dressed in ancient Norse costume, we walked a short trail where the actual village remains were archaeologically explored and then reinterred.  The area was several degrees warmer then, with higher sea levels, making it much more habitable than it is at present.  The stories of Leif Erikson, son of Erik the Red, who led the Vikings in this quest, were orally passed down for 300 years in the Icelandic Sagas before being committed to writing.  Standing where they stood a millennium ago on these barren shores, looking out to sea as spring icebergs float by, it is hard to imagine these ancient sailors eking out a life here.  On the rockweed covered shore, a group of four hen common eiders escorted their just hatched downy ducklings to the water for their first visit to the sea.  Some things haven’t changed in 1000 years.

We returned to the west coast and drove south to the town of St. Barbe, where we hoped to sail across the Strait of Belle Isle to Labrador.  We arrived to see people stacked up like cordwood at the terminal, waiting to see if the ferry would sail today.  High winds had caused cancellation of yesterday’s trips and today’s were cancelled as well.  Perhaps tomorrow morning, the stormy weather would abate and we all could safely make the crossing.

Perhaps not.  After delays, announcements, more delays, more announcements, we anxiously boarded the ferry at 6:00 PM.  It was raining, cold and windy.  The winds had been ferocious all day.  Would we be able to dock on the other side, where the wind was at its worst?  More importantly, would we toss our Newfoundland cookies?

To be continued...

Questions?  Write sam.fried@live.com