Swiss Family Grass

To say that our Newfoundland experience was spectacular would be an understatement. From the moment we disembarked from the ship, Newfoundland’s landscape welcomed us with luscious green forests and calm seas gently lapping at the coastline. We drove north along the coast for a few hours before dusk forced us off the road for the evening. Guide books, locals, and folk singers alike warn of driving at dusk and dawn as Newfoundland has 110,000 moose that tend to be drawn to car headlights.

Early the next morning we continued on the TransCanada to Gros Morne National Park. Gros Morne tied for second place with Cape Breton as top national parks to visit in North America. The top three slots were all Canadian parks. Parks are rated on a number of features, including beauty, heritage, activities, and number of tourists that visit. Gros Morne is considered a gem because few make the journey to this unspoiled land. If you want to walk the beach alone, you can. If your pleasure is hiking among the millions of years old tabletop mountains, you can. And, if you want to just sit back and breathe in the fresh sea air, you can do that too.

Of the campground choices available within the park, we decided to stay at Shallow Bay. Shallow Bay campground is situated alongside a pristine stretch of white sand beach. Dunes separate the campsites from the 3km beach, and the water is clear out 25 yards from the shore. As soon as my toes touched the water, I knew I was hooked. I went for a swim (Petey did too) and spent the remainder of the afternoon relaxing on the beach.

On day two we ventured into town on bikes to check out Cow Head. The small village of Cow Head is located just outside the campground entrance and has a population of about 500, down from the 1000 that lived there before the fishing industry collapsed on Newfoundland. While in the local grocery store we noticed a sign on the community bulletin board for a poker tournament to be held at a local tavern on Sunday afternoon. We rode our bikes to Linda’s Place and inquired with the barkeep about the tournament. She said that her nephew was holding his first ever tournament at her bar and he would welcome out of towners. The buy-in was $20 (abut $16 US), so we decided to give it a go. We spent the rest of the afternoon learning how to officially play and score darts at Linda’s Place and talking with local fisherman who are proud of their homeland and discouraged by the restrictions put on their livelihood.

Later that evening we went to a show at the local theatre company. The Gros Morne Theatre Festival is an annual event held during the summer months. The festival draws people from all over the island and beyond and has a wide offering, from cabaret style shows to locally written plays recounting village heroes and island tragedies. We opted for a night of Newfoundland music and comical sketches. A troupe of six guided us through an evening of enjoyable music, with the plight of the fisherman as the constant theme. Midway through the show we won a prize as we were the people in the audience who had traveled the farthest. The prize was a gift bag from Dark Tickle Company a local company making jams, syrups, and teas. Our gift bag contained squashberry sauce and blueberry tea. We split the prize with a couple from Portland, Maine. They were the second farthest from home, and I felt obliged to spread the wealth.

The following day brought more exploration of the shoreline, as Petey and I walked along the beach to Small Head Point, a mixture of rocky beach and meadow covered cliffs. As the dunes disappear behind you, the shoreline becomes littered with fishing debris (smashed lobster cages, broken buoys, and empty crab nets). It’s only then that one realizes why the coastal villages are guarded by lighthouses. The rocky coastline can wreak havoc with boats and it was not unheard of at the turn of the century for locals to come to count on wood from wrecked boats to burn for heat in their homes.

By late afternoon we were preparing for the tournament, with Andy reminding me the order of poker hands. We ventured back to Linda’s Place and both lasted a few hours into the tournament. I went ‘all in’ with three aces and was beaten by a flush. I was hoping the turn card would bring forth the ace I needed for a four of a kind. Either way, I thought it was a strong hand. We met a jack russell terrier outside of the pub named Nemo, and he and Petey played around for a few minutes with the sea as their backdrop before heading back to the campsite. That night we talked about how friendly and welcoming the locals are and how they talk openly of the recent depression facing their village. They are truly a warm people, Newfoundlander’s, and they share their jewel of an island with an openness unusual to those of us used to guarding the best kept secrets of our hometowns. When you express to a Newfoundlander that you are enjoying their homeland, they look at you with a twinkle in their eyes, a smile on their face, and a nod of agreement as they acknowledge the beauty you have just witnessed. I tell you, I have never felt as at home as I have felt on Newfoundland. I miss family gatherings and chats with those I love less, and for a few days my mind was at ease as I started to know a place where, as the sign at Linda’s Place reads, “You are only a stranger but once.”

We decided to extend our trip a day and take a boat tour of the Western Brook Pond, an inland freshwater pond that was once an inland fjord. To get to the boat dock you must hike 45 minutes from a park parking lot. The short hike passes through bogs and meadows, with the split mountain range beckoning from ahead. Once at the dock we boarded a small passenger ferry and started the two and a half hour tour. While on the water we explore the pond, where 2200 foot rock mountains drop to the pond with little or no vegetation lining the banks. Massive rocks, cut by glaciers millions of years ago leave an impression as you crane your neck upward to see waterfalls dropping from the tops of mountains. Few fish or birds live in or around the pond as the pond supports very little life due to a lack of algae and minerals. The scenery was amazing and when we reached the end of the tour Andy and I spent the walk back to the car talking about how amazingly unspoiled and geologically fascinating Newfoundland proved to be.

On the drive back to the campground we stopped at the Cow Head Museum housed in the home of local leader Mr. Payne, a lifelong teacher and Bishop who had been the town’s wiseman of sorts. The museum tour came with a private guide and she took us from room to room pointing out artifacts of interest. Highlights included an axe used in a double murder (extremely uncommon on Newfoundland) and a seven hundred year old walrus head. We stayed and chatted a bit about Cow Head, and Glenda our guide spoke of preserving local heritage and keeping the town traditions in place. This is one village that I hope the sands of time can pass untouched.
Today we left Cow Head bound for the port to take a late afternoon ferry back to Nova Scotia. Leaving Newfoundland was bittersweet. I am excited for our upcoming European adventure, but hope to spend more time in the future on the island of Newfoundland…and island that springs youth eternal.

Once back in Nova Scotia, we plan to take a few days to explore the western side of Nova Scotia and then take a ferry to Bar Harbor, Maine.