Newfoundland, chapter 6

Road Trip to Newfoundland

Day 6 - Gros Morne

After a surprisingly comfortable sleep in the tent, we were eager to pack up and move to a cabin. Tents are fine, but nothing beats a solid floor and roof.  In between tent and cabin, we had to kill some time. It's Gros Morne. There are bound to be a few things to do.

This was our relaxed day. We didn't have to drive 500 km. We could just see local sights and get some chores done. We set off once more for Rocky Harbour to wash clothes. The scenery throughout Gros Morne is beautiful, and in fact we even saw pockets of snow in the hilltops. We arrived in town after just a few minutes. Luckily, the laundromat was deserted and we were able to fill a couple of machines with our dainties, and my not so dainties. Next door was a very nice gift shop filled with various seal skin wearables and taxidermied animals. My wife spent an inordinate amount of time here, but thankfully not an inordinate amount of money. I pried her away from the pricey trinkets by suggesting we find coffee. That usually works on her. Works on me too.

Next door, on the left, was the Treasure Box, a gift shop. It felt like I was hopping out of the pot and into the fire by entering yet another gift shop, but I did want my coffee and the sign said they had some. It was busy, and cluttered with souvenirs. I asked at the counter for a coffee and the gentleman requested I help myself. He pointed to the corner where a stainless steel machine sat. I went over only to find an empty pot. I corralled the family and we ventured to the other side of the laundromat where Java Jacks, a bright yellow cafe, was located. OK, this has the word java in it, so there must be reasonable coffee here. On the main floor was indeed a small cafe and bakery. I ordered a house blend and it was very good. My normal frame of mind was slowly coming into focus now.

Have I ever mentioned my wife's love of food, eaten at frequent intervals? A small gurgle radiated from her gut and the need for food became paramount. I suggested we look for something fast-foodish, as we had to tend to the laundry soon. We departed the cafe and headed across the street to a chip truck. Here they served burgers, dogs, and an assortment of lunch items. It was quick and it was hot. Those are usually my first and second priorities, as it was at that moment. Cheap is third. This was not so cheap, but then keeping everyone happy is sometimes worth the inflated price. We dropped by the general store and picked up some frozen scallops, sausages and other groceries for the evening and morning. As usual, we purchased a bag of ice for the cooler. We must have spent a fortune on ice so far, but a cold beer at the end of the day is priceless.

Laundry done and lunch eaten, we scurried back to the campground in order to inhabit our cabin and take a break by the lake. As expected, the cabin, though sparse, was clean and comfortable. We set it up and relaxed while my son tried catching trout in the lake. It was shallow near shore, and impractical for fishing. My guess is all the lunkers (if you can call speckled trout in a small lake that) were in a hole out beyond the not so grand banks. It felt as though we were frittering away the day, but perhaps we needed that after the hectic schedule we had been keeping. Chores done and time ticking, I made the executive decision to drive around East Arm, a long fiord pushed inland for some distance. It wasn't a long drive, but scenic.

Woody Point, a pretty town known for its artistic merits, sat below the hills at the edge of the ocean. It was interesting to see the trendy artistic companies juxtaposed against the old traditional buildings. After some sightseeing and a few passes by an old Victorian house sporting a doll in the upper window that scared the kids, we dropped by a small wharf to watch some fellows fish. They seemed adept at jigging and before long were hauling in decent sized blue-silver mackerel. My son and I had so wished we had our rods and tackle with us. Perhaps back at camp we could find a nearby wharf and do the same.

The drive home to camp was no less scenic than the drive there. Some mountains are reddish and desolate while others are carpeted in the dark green of spruce trees. We arrived home and pulled the cold meats out of the cooler and threw them on the large, new barbeque that perched upon our porch. For me it was a treat to be able to cook and relax rather than fork over a wad of dollars and then drive home after dinner. I couldn't wait for the meat to cook. I kept checking and fussing and praying for the moment to come that I could plunge sausage and scallops into my face. That moment did come and was as sweet as I had imagined. I sat back in my camp chair and savoured the succulent tastes.

Later that evening, I suggested we drive to Rocky Harbour and try to get some mackerel ourselves off the long pier. We, of course, did not have the requisite lures for this task. All the lures we had were intended for freshwater inland lakes. But that did not stop us from trying. Casting and retrieving got us nowhere, though we could see those small red Rock Cod swarm the lure near the pier edge. We then tried jigging straight down into the water. No luck was found. Deeper we dropped the lures till they hit bottom. It was then that action struck us. It struck hard, both of our lines. "Got one" we both yelled. "Jinx", we both yelled. "Jinx, Jinx", my son yelled, breaking the competition. We pulled the beasts in out of the water and up on the dock. What the heck was this? The ugliest, scariest monsters sat on the dock before us. I suddenly recognized them; sculpins. I used my pliers to remove the hooks and return the fish to the depths where they belonged. It was exciting to finally reel a fish in. We continued to catch a few more before returning to camp.

The evening was capped by cold beer and a fire that took extreme measures to start. I suspect the firewood was rather green, and with no kindling, other than our toilet paper, it was a chore to get going. But we did it, and we roasted marshmallows long into the dark evening, watching for satellites and shooting stars. It was a pleasant day, capped by clean clothes, full stomachs, and a fun night.

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