Rick's Journal

Friday, October 21, 2011

The Newfoundland Expedition, August 2011, Part V

Heading North on the Viking Trail
Well, after the Baker's Brook Falls hike and the long day yesterday, I woke up sore but happy.   We made our breakfast, said goodbye to Ranger Harold and packed up the tent and hit the road.

We headed north on the Viking Trail towards St Anthony, (which the locals call "S'nanty") and L'anse aux Meadows.  The clouds drifted on a high ceiling, giving us views of the mountains and the coastline, with occasional glimpses of bright sunshine.   We drove through tiny towns like Cow Head, Savage Cove and Plum Point.   Some of the communities were very, very small, and along the long western shore, the stores were few and far between.   Most had gas, all kinds of convenience and food supplies, as well as hardware, fishing gear, building and plumbing supplies and even yarn and books.   There are hand made sweaters, mittens, socks and tourist stuff like shirts, postcards and native jams and jellies.   Locals hang out and drink coffee, talk about the weather and many asked us where we were from.   I guess it was obvious that we were from out of town!

Nicole and our Pack Vehicle, taking a break near Port aux Choix
We drove, Abigail slept, and saw the trees get shorter and shorter.   Even the Long Range Mountains faded from view and the inland landscape looked flat in places.   It looked like the road was actually built with stone mined from different areas near the highway, as there were several pits and open areas where stone and rocky material was removed.   Many streams and small rivers crossed the highway, and small ponds and lakes were surrounded by green tuckermore and boggy brush.   It felt, well, 'northern', if that is any description.   I don't know how to really describe what driving through this landscape was like, and the pictures just don't do it justice, either.   It was a vast, open, wild feeling that was good.  It was fresh, and clean and sweet and a deep earth energy that was unique to anything I have ever felt in the wilderness before.

Wild Strawberries, Raspberries
and Skunkberries
Ben sighted a moose at one point, and we pulled off the highway to take a look.   It was a small male, and by the time I changed batteries in my camera, I missed the shot, but I took a walk around anyway, just to stretch our legs a bit after the long drive.

Our Camp at Pistolet Bay Provincial Park, Newfoundland
I didn't really mention this before, but heading north is like going back in time, from a seasonal point of view.   It was late August, and I looked down at my feet and saw the last thing I ever expected to see:   Wild Strawberries.   Ripe, too!   I couldn't believe it!   At Hawk Circle, we have ripe wild strawberries in early June to the first week of July, at the latest.   But there, in the far northern tip of Newfoundland, was mature, sweet, red berries!   I saw another bush of berries that the locals called 'Skunkberries' but they looked like a type of current or gooseberry, so maybe they are in the same family.   I also saw many raspberries, too.   However, we didn't see cloudberries, which was one berry I just was dying to see in it's natural habitat, and taste it.  Most people on the Rock call this berry 'Bakeapple' for reasons I don't quite know, but we had a taste of cloudberry cheesecake at the Jigg's Dinner in Rocky Harbor and that was out of this world, so I was looking for them everywhere!
Cooking French Fries!

Venison Hot Dogs over the Campfire!
We drove on an on, further and further, along the one road to the northern tip of Newfoundland.   By mid-afternoon, we reached the Pistolet Bay Provincial Park, and found a campsite in a light drizzle.  We set up our tents, then our tarps, and we bundled up because it was COLD!   There was fog and a light breeze so we got a fire going and cooked some venison hot dogs I had brought from home, and we made french fries, too.   We made about ten small batches, all in all, and it really hit the spot.

These didn't last long!
Ben and Abigail said they saw a large rabbit, possibly an arctic hare, hopping around one of the near by campsites.   We saw squirrels, who looked hungry and accustomed to raiding campsites for food, so we packed everything up before heading over to St Anthony to see what was happening in the town.    It was too late to go to L'anse aux Meadows, because we wanted to have a full day over there to enjoy it and take our time...

Anyone want hot chocolate???

Roadside Gardens!

Mittens!
 Another thing that was totally unique and new to us while we were driving around up there was the Roadside Gardens.    In the seeming middle of nowhere, (and I mean literally miles from the nearest house or anything) on the side of the roads, were plots of potatoes, onions, chard, collards, beets and other vegetables.   Most had makeshift fences all around them, to keep out the moose and caribou, I guess, and they had flags of tattered and worn cloth or other markers tied to sticks or poles to help their owners find them easily while driving.

St Anthony's Bight
This fascinated Nicole, who, as I said before, loved any type of gardening and growing of plants.   We stopped and looked at one up close and took a few pictures.   It seemed crazy to plant a garden so far from your home, where you could look after it and tend and care for it, but there they were, in the wilderness, on the side of the highway.

Ben goes in the Arctic water
Piles of firewood were stacked, too, in a similar way, left out to season on flat areas off the road, with poles and split wood, some stacked neatly and others just piled in heaps or left as whole logs fresh off the truck.   Again, with all of the campers driving by, you would think handfuls of logs would disappear for campfire wood, but we saw no evidence of this anywhere on our trip.

Bakeapples or Cloudberries!
A small berry of sweet Arctic lightness!
Local people explained it to us like this:   All of the communities were so tightly bound together for their livelihoods and culture, that it was impossible to steal anything from anyone without being caught almost instantly.   Everyone would know.   So their culture was to leave everything that wasn't yours alone, and respect it, and others will do the same for your things.   Once roads began connecting these communities together, it was too late to change and so most people are still trusting and crime is virtually non-existent. I could feel this deep sense of respect for both the earth and community and each other permeating throughout the culture while we were there.   I am sure there are exceptions and other stories, and I am not being naive in my assessment.    I am sure that newcomers have brought some of their ways into the culture, but overall, you will have to go there to really 'get it' and see what I mean.

I think this is a seal jawbone
Anyway, right before we got to the town, we saw a small sign marked 'St Anthony's Bight' and we turned and followed it, because I remembered reading about it in my pre trip research as a place to observe icebergs and wildlife.   We collectively gasped when we came over a slight rise to catch a view of the bay, filled with massive chunks of ice.

We drove to the trail head, then headed down to the bay to get as close as we could.   All banter and chit chat between us as traveling comrades vanished, and we were overwhelmed with a sense of awe and power.  The icebergs had broken off the glaciers of Greenland and traveled over a year to get to the Newfoundland waters, and a strong wind had pushed them into the small coves and bays, to run aground and slowly melt and break apart.


I had told everyone that the ice was made originally from snows that had fallen in Greenland over 10,000 years ago, and been compressed into ice.   This means it was pure, and from clouds that had crossed North America during it's 'Mega Fauna' period, with huge dire wolves, cave bears and wooly mammoths.   It was thousands of years before the industrial revolution, before pollution.  Seriously ancient, primordial water.



I think that was what made being in their presence so powerful, for me at least.   I can't speak for my companions.   I took a short video on my camera and tried to explain it, but I don't know if it really comes through.

Japhy, Abigail and Ben exploring the cove
We explored the shore, picking our way along to get closer to some big rocks and big ice.    At one point, Ben took his shoes off and went iceberg surfing.   He managed to find a large piece of ice that we brought back to the car to use to keep our food cold, and to slip smaller pieces into our water bottles.   That ice was so sweet, well, it was better than any water I have ever drank...

When we got to the rocks and climbed up to the top, the ground was covered with a thick layer of plants that grew almost like moss, and I saw a few dark, almost black berries that I recognized as Crowberries.   And then I saw the Cloudberries!   They grew in tiny patches, or on their own, with lots of space all around, in that open place.   They are red when they are first formed, then slowly they turn orange/peach as they ripen.   One taste of the ripe berries is instantly tart and intense, then as you wait the flavor becomes, well, light, and airy, really, like a cloud or a beam of light through the clouds.   That's the only way I can really describe it, and the rest of our group seemed to think it was pretty accurate, too.   It was so great to find them there on the headlands, and see those massive bergs and hear the gulls.   We didn't want to leave.

10,000 year old ice
Eventually we headed into town and looked for a small restaurant but nothing really appealed to us so we went to a Jungle Jim's (also located as part of a hotel) and tried to get a wifi signal to be able to check our email, and we ended up going to Tim Horton's and getting hot chocolate and donuts before heading back to camp.   Even in the dark, in the middle of town, you could hear the icebergs cracking and grinding against each other, calving off chunks into the bay as they slowly melted.   It was weird and cool and crazy all at the same time.

Tomorrow, we go to the Norse site!

To Be Continued...

1 comment:

  1. I cannot imagine how that was to hear the sounds of the ice cracking! This is such wonderful adventure story, please continue, thank you!

    ReplyDelete