Newfoundland, chapter 10

Road Trip to Newfoundland

Day 10 - Numb Feet

We are not going far today. In fact, we will start here in Port Aux Basques and end our Newfoundland experience right here in Port Aux Basques. This is where we catch the ferry close to midnight for the night time cruise to Nova Scotia. My plan involved a leisurely drive to a small harbour close by and a hike up the Barachois Falls, and then a relaxed afternoon on the beach. Entering the small town of Rose Blanche Harbour LeCou we noticed stringers of tiny coloured flags everywhere and signs that read 'Welcome Home'. We were told that every town has a come home celebration every five years in which they celebrate the return of people who come back from working abroad. We explored the town, though like many small towns there wasn't much to see.

Driving back toward Port Aux Basques we stopped at a trail that led to Barachois Falls. It was a short hike, about a kilometre. Much of the way was a well built boardwalk. The trail rolled over barren peat and rock laced with a variety of bushes and moss. Somewhat like the northern coast, there were plenty of bake apples, partridge berry, arctic cotton and pitcher plants. The falls were quite impressive, reportedly 50 metres high (160 feet). We stayed a while to soak it in before returning to the car.  I think at that moment we were all feeling a little glum that our Newfoundland expedition would end later today. What we needed was a little excitement to perk us up.

We continued along the highway past Port Aux Basques just a short distance to JT Cheeseman Provincial Park. This was a long expansive white sand beach that looked as beautiful as any beach could. The sand, despite its white colour, was strikingly hot against my delicate feet and I wanted to race into the water to cool off. I grabbed my son and together we ran down to the surf, bounding into the waves. As fast as we entered the shallow water, we turned and exited. Now, when people say "I'd like a cold beer", this is not what they're describing. When people flinch with a brain freeze from ice cream, this is not what they mean. This was glacial. This was Tuktoyaktuk in January. A minute of this water up to my ankles and my feet became numb. For a lark, my son and I actually took a quick dive in and speedy retreat. Funny enough, there were two local teen girls who played and swam out in the waves for half an hour. When they returned to shore, they were stiff and red from the cold. How they could do that, I do not know.

Although swimming was out of the question, we stayed on the beach for hours. Occasionally we walked down the beach to a small river outlet and searched the waters and rocks for shells. A number of small, white birds sailed around near us. I had never seen these before and found out they were called Piping Plovers. Getting hungry, we grudgingly left the beach and headed back to Port Aux Basques. We had a few hours to kill before boarding the ferry, so we grabbed some grub, explored the town, and then roamed the boardwalk, listening to a local band at the amphitheater and then watching the ferry arrive from Nova Scotia and enter the harbour. This would be the boat we would leave on in a while.

Unlike the journey to Newfoundland, we would have a cabin. We couldn't get a four bunk room, so had to settle for two beds. That meant cramming myself into a small bunk with my active son. I wondered just how much sleep I would get, and how many bruises I would endure. As we did in Nova Scotia, we lined up and waited for the signal to move. All was quiet and behaved and we boarded at about 10:00 pm.

After finding our cabin and dumping a few bags, we headed straight for the bar. It was located right up at the front, a great view as we departed from town. I ordered a fancy drink. I don't know what it was called as I simply asked for a 'fancy drink'. It looked like a Harvey Wall Banger, I think. What I recall feeling as we disappeared into the darkness of the ocean was sadness. Newfoundland represents the best of Canada; vast spruce forests, dramatic mountains, sparkling blue oceans, moose and whales and all that is clean and natural. The people are kind and hospitable. Most of all, it is spaciously uncluttered. There is a lot of room to move, breathe, and explore. I knew when I awoke in the morning I would be one step closer to cluttered. Nova Scotia, my childhood home is dear to my heart and the place I still consider home, but it is en route to the urban madness of Ontario.

Brought to you by :

Available at Kobo and Amazon, 

e-books and paperbacks