The Newfoundland Expedition, August 2011, Part X

Heading for the summit!

 This post is going to have a lot of pictures.  However, I won't make them all full sized, since you can click on the pictures and go to a full sized slide show of each of them in massive detail, so I will let you check most of them out that way.   So click away and enjoy!

Saying goodbye to Ranger Harold!

Okay, on with the show!

Today we started with breakfast, and packing up our backpacks for the climb and overnight on Gros Morne mountain.   Abigail was feeling a lot better, getting good sleep, and the trip was a go for her too, which had been a concern and factor as to whether we all went up or some stayed and some went.   We were doing our dishes and packing the truck when the green park services pickup truck rolled into the kitchen shelter parking area and Ranger Harold Snow hopped out.   He was the ranger that took us on the hike to Bakers Brook Falls, to see the big moose up close, and told us stories about living around the park that we loved.   He told us where to go to take some good pictures up on the mountain, and to bring warm clothes, his final pieces of advice. We said our goodbyes and then we headed out.

The map at the trailhead.

Gros Morne Mountain, from the trail.

We stopped by the Visitor's Center and picked up our backcountry passes.  The ranger there told us that we have to be on the lookout for a bull moose that was hanging around the pond near the camping area and to give him a wide berth and not bother him.   The reports were indicating that the rut was starting a bit early and he seemed aggressive, and they didn't want to have to interfere with him due to a bad interaction between the moose and people.  Which we understood and agreed with, of course.

We have to ascend the steepest
part of the mountain in "The Gully"
which is viewed behind me.

The boardwalks were great
in some sections along the way.

At the same time, some of us where checking our email and Facebook accounts and found out there was an earthquake in the DC/Baltimore area, so that was pretty unique too!   We didn't feel it up in Newfoundland, though.

The rangers also told us that if the top of the mountain was shrouded in fog or clouds, or the wind picked up too much, that we should not try to ascend because of the dangers of low visibility, cold, hyperthermia and injury.   The weather looked sunny and great, so we were excited, but she explained that it could turn very quickly, and that at night the clouds descend as well and that we should make sure we were at the campsites before dark.  

A small pond at the base of the
mountain.  We are about to leave
most of the trees behind at this point.

Eventually, we headed out and up to the trailhead, shouldered our packs and headed up.   It was fairly evident in the first fifteen minutes that most of the group was going to be moving a lot faster than I was, so I stayed at the end of the line and they sprinted off ahead of me.   My pack wasn't really that heavy, since we were just going for one night, and it wasn't anywhere near as heavy as it was just a few weeks ago when I led the Adirondack Expedition back in New York!  Still, it seemed to get heavier in proportion to the climb.

At the last stop before
heading up, up up!

Looking at this view, I can only say
'This is why we came all this way!'

The trail up was good, with lots of wooden stairs and wooden boardwalks at times, as well as fairly clear  paths heading up through the woodlands to get to the base of the mountain.   There were a few places to stop and rest, and I caught up with the group at those times, and took some pictures and checked in with everyone.   There were a lot of people heading back down the mountain, who had already been up early and hiked it up and back already.   Most of them looked very sore and tired.

The lichens that grow on
the rocky scree on the
mountaintop.

One kid who was about thirteen or so looked like he had been crying on the way down, and gave me a baleful glare like I was the one who had tricked him into going up the mountain.   His mom looked pretty guilty and didn't even look me in the eyes.   Others were in great shape and all, but were still pretty happy when I told them they were pretty close to the trailhead.

Stopping to admire the view in the
Gully.

I stopped along the way and took pictures and a little video of blueberries, partridgeberries, snowberries and bunchberries.   I thought it was a good way to stop for a very brief break and take videos of the trail, the view, etc.   However, when I got home and then downloaded the video, I could hear how out of breath I actually was!   Anyway, I am not sure how much of it I will use, but we'll see!

A good sized cow moose, browsing
near the Gully trail.

We reached the last trail resting point and saw our way up the Gully, which was a long, rocky gorge that goes straight up the mountain.   It looked intense and I felt a certain sense of foreboding and excitement at the same time.   Everyone else looked well rested and ready.  We took a few pictures and then shouldered our packs and headed up.  

At times, the Gully trail seemed to
go pretty much straight up!

When we got to the bottom of the gully, there was yet another sign warning us to not attempt the climb unless we could see clearly and the weather was good.  We went up, since we had fairly clear skies and a nice breeze.    By the time I got a quarter of the way up, I could see Ben and Abigail moving through the narrows, where the trail was partially obscured by brush and small trees.

On the summit, it was surprisingly
flat and very cold.

The trail started to close in on the sides as I approached the narrows, and I stopped to take a little video of the 'trail'.  It was basically laughable, as it was virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the rock shards all along the gully and mountaintop.   This kind of rock mix is created when the surface rock is frozen and refrozen until it breaks into smaller and smaller, sharp edged rocks called 'scree'.   They were jagged and sharp, and many were large and tilted and shifted on almost every step.   You had to really pick your way along and head up, up up, and I wanted to try to record what it was like to hike this trail, the views and everything.  

Abigail, Rick (me), Japhy, Nicole and Ben.  
We made it, and after celebrating for about three minutes
we had to quickly change our wet clothes and put on
wool sweaters, hats and layers!

I finished recording and then I heard a noise of something moving through the brush.   I turned and looked behind me and there was a moose, browsing on alders and spruce saplings, seemingly oblivious of my presence.  I was a little closer than I would have liked, because I couldn't really run away very easily on the sharp rocks, should she charge me, but I sensed that she was fine with me being there.   In any event, she didn't seem to indicate that she saw me except by the motion of her ears moving backwards from time to time, listening to my slight and quiet movements.   She moved into thicker brush and I began climbing again.

The view to the north on the northern edge of Gros Morne mountain!

When I started walking down this
wooden stairway down the mountain,
I felt a lot like Po on Kung Fu Panda!
My knees and ankles were saying
'My Arch Nemesis: Stairs!'

I guess I will skip ahead to the part where we made it to the top, and we were all on the summit and took a picture!   When I got there, Ben had already taken a video of some Arctic Ptarmigans, and Japhy had gotten some good pictures of an Arctic Hare, and they were bundled up with wool sweaters, hats, and lots of warm layers and jackets.   I was so hot I didn't know if I would do that just yet, but three minutes later, the wind was so steady and strong and cold, I broke out my sweater!  

The mountaintop trail!

The top of the summit was covered with broken rocks, lichen, tiny windswept willows, alders and native berry shrubs.   It was flat and looked like it was just about to snow.  The cloud ceiling was literally a hundred feet above us, and the cold air was filled with moisture from the massive oceanic bay of the Gulf of the St. Lawrence to the west.   The sun was beginning to set, and the light was thick with every color of the spectrum.   The warm, wet air pushed up the mountain and fjords, and we could see the air turn into clouds right before our eyes, as it condensed.   It was awesome!

Where the mountain air turned to
clouds before our eyes!

The top of the mountain had long stretches of rocky paths through the barrens, and also some boardwalks, which were mercy on my sore ankles and knees!   I was wearing some hiking boots that I used for hunting last year, and they really didn't feel that great.   We went along the path to the edge of mountain on the far side, and saw a view that there was just no words to express how amazing and beautiful it was.   We loved it, despite the cold wind.  

This was a great, great moment, standing here!

We took a lot of pictures, and just stood there, seeing a landscape that was virtually unchanged for centuries.   It took my breath away.   I saw waterfalls coming off of the distant cliffs, and inaccessible ponds and rivers and streams that beckoned my imagination for probably the next three weeks at least.

There were a lot of photos taken
at this spot!

The sun began to sink down lower and lower, and we still had three or four kilometers to get to our campsite, so we reluctantly pulled ourselves away and began to move down the trail down the back side of the mountain.   I saw what I think were caribou tracks and moose tracks and moose droppings, too.  I found a ptarmigan feather that was so white and pure, it startled me.  It was a wing feather, one of the primaries, and it had a black stripe on it and some grey speckling close to the quill.  It was almost exactly like a ruffed grouse primary, except it was so white!   I felt so good just to see it and hold it in my hand!   There were a few other feathers around, breast feathers and such, so I thought maybe a falcon or an eagle had a snack on this bird, but maybe it got away....

Abigail captured me lumbering
along the trail.  She was slow
because she was taking lots of pics.
I was slow because I was slow!

The view looking East...

Abigail poses in front of the pond
near our campsite.

Then came the stairs.   It was like a temple, only it was going down, down down.   Seriously, it was amazing and scary, all at the same time.   And I will tell you one thing about stairs after climbing the Gully:   Going down hurts!   I guess I am going to sound like I am too old to be hiking the mountains, but I am just keepin' it real, people!   The stairs were just a little too tall, so each step dropped you down far enough that your thighs got an amazing workout, or just about killed you, depending on your age, I guess!

Can anyone guess what this is?   

The bottom line is, I made it.  But the next thing we saw on the trail was moose droppings.   A big, whopping pile of it, and it was fresh.   Remember the warnings from the Rangers?   Despite the pain, my memory was still alive and kicking, and I knew we had to be careful and aware.   I caught up with Abigail, and then we saw it.  A huge black shape in the brush at the northern edge of the pond.   It was big.   It looked like two moose!   I could hear it move and it sounded like ten large trees were breaking under it's massive hooves.   We both froze, and then we tried to get a picture, but it was too dark.  There was no way to get a good shot, but we tried.   And I was hoping my zoom would let me get a glimpse of it's rack of antlers.

No deal.   We moved very quietly, stealthily down the trail to the other side of the lake and met up with the rest of the group.   We set up our tents, and started our dinner.   I think it was burritos, with refried beans that were dehydrated, and lots of cheese and salsa.   It cooked quickly, but with four ravenous hikers staring at it, the pot took forever to boil.   Then we had cookies, and it was good!

Our small camp on the
edge of the pond, behind
the Eastern edge of Gros
Morne Mountain.

However, the wind began to howl, and it was freezing.   I had changed my clothes as soon as we stopped hiking, but that cold was cutting in deep.   We cleaned up and I dove for the tent and my warm sleeping bag.   I loved that thing, seriously!   It felt so good to be curled up and feel my own body heat radiate around me, relaxing my muscles.   I was sleeping in my little tent, nestled in the ancient mountains of Newfoundland, dreaming in this ancient land, surrounded by wildlife that seemed to have no fear of us, and the strength of the mighty stones!  

It was a long, good day.   I thought for a moment or two about the sharp hooves of a bull moose taking a disliking to finding a tent near the shore of his pond at the beginning of the rut, but maybe the burritos were a good call?   We didn't have any problems, and I was too tired to care!