Newfoundland, chapter 8

Road Trip to Newfoundland

Day 8 - A Whale of a Time

On morning eight we were in uncharted waters, so to speak. This was a day I had trouble planning. I couldn't find any motels in Grand Falls, or nearby, that were economical and had a vacancy. My plan was to camp, however I was more than open to alternatives, given that I didn't want to setup a tent and there were no scenic campgrounds worthy of staying. I wanted to meander through Terra Nova National Park and then stop at Eastport by the beach for lunch and a dip. Grand Falls merely lies at a midpoint, and so was a convenient layover.

We started out by visiting the pretty town of Trinity right next to Port Rexton. We arrived early and many shops were closed, but we found one that advertised whale watching. I asked and was told that the boat would leave at 11:00 am, however they were unable to reach the captain and couldn't confirm a booking. I, of course, pictured Captain Highliner half passed out from a night of drinking screech at the local pub. Unwilling to waste a day waiting for the hungover skipper to clear the fog from his eyes, we drove off.

I had heard that there was an iceberg off the coast at Kings Cove, which was straight across the peninsula. I, in my great wisdom, found a magical shortcut that traversed the peninsula through a wildlife refuge, aimed at significantly shortening the journey. It started off great and was only 17 km to the other side. We came across a few potholes. We came across quite a few potholes. Then we were moving only slightly faster than the hungover skipper who couldn't find the boat. Only 11 km left to go. There were in fact houses along this route. They likely changed their shocks annually. Eventually we reached the highway, safe and sound, just a bit rattled. We found high ground overlooking the ocean, but alas the ice berg was either hidden or melted. No worries, it was a long shot anyway. On to Terra Nova, only an hour and a half away. I could do that in my sleep, not that I recommend it.

Pulling into the National Park Visitor Centre at Newman Sound, everyone, except me, rushed into the main building to get WiFi. I wandered around, questioning rangers about the significance of the park, as it wasn't at all apparent to me. I still don't understand why it's a national park. I wandered over to another office and met Harvey, the captain of the zodiac for Happy Adventure Tours. He told me he was available and we could see whales, puffins, caves and catch some cod. I was sold. We would have a private tour and do some fishing. I arranged the trip, informed the others and we were off in less than half an hour. By the way, if you plan to eat lunch at the visitor centre, don't get your hopes up and get your wallets out. They could seriously improve the food and lower the price, unless gouging is part of the National Park mandate.

Much of Newman Sound is a bird sanctuary. These are migratory birds, though not sure exactly what species they are, On a side note, we did see lots of Eagles, but they are all over Newfoundland. Harvey suited us up in yellow and blue life jackets, then set off down the sound toward the open ocean. I could tell that my wife was very apprehensive. Me, rolling over in the bed at night makes her sea sick. But she was a trooper and did not complain. In fact, we were mainly doing this because she said she wanted to see the whales up close. It was a long ride down the sound and Harvey pulled no stops.

We flew across the ocean surface at full tilt. First stop was a set of caves that apparently went hundreds of feet into the cliffs. Here, the water is a brilliant emerald green. At first, the caves looked small, but as we got closer, it was clear that you could boat right on inside. The water looked inviting, like what you might see in Sicily or the Caribbean, however I imagine the temperature difference is rather substantial. I have often wondered what lurks in these cold, clean northern waters. People say they have caught sharks here and it is common to see Orcas. I suppose the lack of swimmers and the style of fishing leads to few encounters with dangerous fish.

We wandered off from there at a slower pace, observing the beach at Eastport, which had been my potential stop off on the preliminary semi-plan. Occasionally we spotted the small Minke whales surfacing. As we hit the end of the sound and entered the open ocean, we could see the backs of Humpback whales and Harvey steered us over to them. They were not jumping, merely surfacing and occasionally deep diving, noted by the big tail rising up and then disappearing beneath the waves. It was a very peaceful sight, and somewhat magical to be in the presence of such a large, seemingly gentle creatures.

They were certainly aware of our presence and yet completely at ease. They were chasing the smallest of prey which come close to shore this time of year. They aren't the only ones hunting. People fish for capelins, and the mackerel and cod follow capelin in as well. This is the annual circle of life off the Grand Banks. This year, they say the cod fish are making a comeback. As such, there is a three week open season for recreational fishing.

Traditional cod fishing in Newfoundland is called jigging. You drop a heavy, well barbed metal plug down to the bottom and jig it up and down. It takes but a matter of seconds to hook a cod. Frankly I'm not sure if the fish were biting or if there were so many they were just being snagged. Harvey would drop the lure down and jig, as soon as a fish was hooked he handed the rod to one of us. I was a bit disappointed that we weren't jigging ourselves, as the hunt is half the challenge and the strike the real excitement, but Harvey was worried the lure would snag bottom and he'd lose it. In any case, he got a strike and handed it to my son who skillfully reeled the cod in. It was a nice size fish. My guess was 12 pounds. Next strike went to my daughter. I could see her struggling to pull it in and the rod tip doubled over. As it breached the water I nearly gasped. It was a beauty, probably in excess of 20 pounds. Finally my turn. Fish on! I took control and handily brought him up. I say handily because I didn't struggle like the other two, and no wonder, it was the smallest fish. As we circled an island, hundreds of puffins, both on the water and in the air lay before us. And all I heard for the next half hour was puffin this and puffin that.

After the long boat ride back to the park office, in and out of rain showers, we resumed our drive west. We didn't have a plan at this point. I certainly wasn't in the mood to setup a tent or blow up air mattresses. We stopped at a government tourist information centre and inquired about motels. I was given the name Britanny Inn at Lewisporte, about twenty minutes away. I called, reserved a room and off we went. We arrived to a rather dull looking hotel on the main road into town. The room was dated and strangely painted a heavy, dark green colour. The room though was large and the beds acceptable. All local restaurants seemed to be closed so we simply grabbed a couple foot long subs and made a night of it. There were a few cold beers in the cooler which provided just the right pairing with subs and so ended a very exciting day.

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