Beaches, Bluffs and Farewell

According to Clyde, there is a large iceberg just off Eddie’s Cove which should be visible on our way south – weather permitting of course.  Farewells were said and profuse thank yous for the warmth and hospitality which far outweighed the brutal elements.

Conditions did indeed appear to lighten as we approached the aforementioned locale . . . and then blow me if the fog didn’t thicken  — I’m sure with deliberate intent.  Argh!  But wait . . .  through the gloom drifted a substantial iceberg . . . complete with seagull perched on top.  Not Yuge . . . but we’ll take it.

Further south yet, and the sun even threatened to poke through. Our place for the night was Bellshaven – a cottage right on the beach.  While the laundry was churning away a hike along the rocky beach appealed to everyone.  Huge, ocean-rounded pebbles (rocks actually) covered the shore in every colour — orange, green, brown, pink, slate .. some with pink & green speckles or dark gray lined with white.  If I lived locally, my garden would be filled with these.  There were rockpools with tiny snails and orange bunches of seaweed — quite different from our west coast kelp. Delicate green urchins – so fragile they shouldn’t have survived the waves and rocks – yet here they are in their dozens.  A vast graveyard of driftwood piled high by winter storms and bleached by the wind and sun, like so many bones.  High crumbly cliffs eroded into fantastical shapes and bays.  The tide was coming in quite fast so we didn’t venture too far along the beach – it would be very easy to get stranded, and those cliffs didn’t look easy to climb.

Our supply of clean clothes now restored to full strength, we tucked into a large kitchen-sink-chicken-and-vegetable fried rice for dinner.  A handful of herbs and a sprinkling of spices … a great way to use up leftovers.

It was much, much warmer the following morning – almost spring-like.

Arches Park sounded interesting . . . and it was.  Large, craggy, grass-topped chunks of cliff eroded by countless waves into impressive archways.  Just right for Puffins, but not a single head popped out of a grassy hollow … I think it’s too early for them to be nesting.  As we piled into the car, a curious vehicle was leaving the parking lot.  On first impression it was one of the parks garbage trucks; but far too clean and shiny, besides it had a kangaroo logo on the back.  On closer inspection it was one of those specially converted garbage trucks now luxury RV.  This one made by Mercedes.  The couple had had it shipped over from Germany and were planning a 6 month trip across Canada and up into the Yukon. Would have loved to see inside – but probably something like this:  https://www.drive.com.au/news/garbage-truck-to-5-star-luxury-camper/

The colourful fishing village at Green Point enticed us to stop.  Marsh marigolds lined a lush green stream as it trickled down the slope.  Someone had created a giant Moose Ugly Stick out of antlers and driftwood in front of their house.  Out along the point it was difficult to stand against the wind.  Hats went flying, and tiny seabirds bobbed like corks among the foam and rocks.  These were Harlequin ducks.  Fantastic that they actually choose these extreme conditions, despite receiving the most broken bones of any bird as a result. Two bright pink Adirondack chairs sat companionably side-by-side looking out to sea . . . lovely on a hot summer’s day, but right now I’m surprised they haven’t blown off the cliff.  Walking back to the car we encountered a motorcyclist who had just parked his Harley.  He had been up around L’anse aux meadows when were were and said it was without doubt the worse weather he’d ever ridden in.  What a small world —  he is from Campbell River on Vancouver Island and is riding his way west across Canada.

It was far too early to dump our things at the B&B in Deer Lake (although we checked out the location). Corner Brook was just 35 minutes down the road — a good opportunity to explore and perhaps have dinner there.  One forgets that this is Newfoundland, and like much of the Maritimes many smaller businesses and restaurants close on a Sunday.  The big Mega Stores (Walmart, Home Depot etc.) were thronged with shoppers, but the highly-recommended eateries were all firmly shut!  What a shame . . . the Japanese and Vietnamese ones looked particularly inviting.  The usual fast food alternatives didn’t really appeal so we rummaged through Trip Advisor and finally whittled it down to a couple of Chinese restaurants.  The one with all the flowering orchids in the window won out . . .  surely the sign of a careful owner.

The food, although not exciting, was fresh, well cooked and not overly salted.  Served by a somewhat unlikely waitress —  an older, matronly type with a broad east coast accent and rather clipped manner – almost like she didn’t want to be there . . . and maybe she didn’t!

We took the lake-side road part of the way back to Deer Lake.  A museum to the Newfoundland Railway (now defunct) was closed but we wandered around the train and carriages . . .  and impressive bright orange snow plough.  That must’ve been quite the sight in action!  The birch trees, which had only just burst into leaf when we first arrived, were now clouds of pale green – contrasting dramatically among the skeins of darker evergreens.  The green Hudson river following the highway for a bit before cutting its way through steep, tree-covered hills.

Time slipped away faster than we thought the next morning so thank goodness the airport was only a short, ten minute drive.  While Glen dealt with car paperwork, the lady at the information booth waved at us enthusiastically.  “I remember you . . .  how was your visit?” she inquired.  I’m sure she says this to all easily identified visitors from away . . .  she can’t possibly remember each one . . . can she?  “Did you see the icebergs?”  Goodness me, perhaps she did!!

The security process was a breeze . . . efficient but low key and friendly – ahh, the benefits of a small, regional airport.  The land fell away below us . . .  glimpses of sun-dappled trees and lakes . . . barren rocks . . . snow-capped mountains.  Farewell Newfoundland . . . what an adventure you’ve given us.

Moose ‘Ugly Stick’