Within an hour, the outport of Rencontre East materialized before us and the engines wound down as we gently bumped alongside the wharf. Families waited for loved ones and goods to arrive, eyes searching for familiar faces on board. The passengers were given 30 minutes to explore the outport with most choosing to get a bite to eat at the only spot "Salty Dog Eat-In/Take-Out". There are no cars or trucks in the village with residents relying upon ATV's in the fair months and Ski-Doo's in winter. The roads are narrow and the houses clustered on flat spots of land and heeding no conventions of orientation with one another. The many colorful fishing stages look well used and functional while their small crafts are tied to buoys in a row out front. After a few quick photos and a stroll around the streets, I return to the ship for the last segment of the journey. The captain steers the ship closer to the coast than the usual route offering a great view of the barren rocky cliffs and short shrubs that struggle in the face of Belle Bay's winter winds.
It isn't everyday that one has their motorcycle loaded onto a ship via crane...I have Dave Murphy's advice to thank for this excellent episode of travel along the southern shore. The MV Northern Seal completes a daily trip from Bay L'Argent to the isolated outport of Rencontre East (French for 'Meeting') and terminating at Poole's Cove. This ferry ride negates the hundreds of miles of TCH all the way to Gander and Grand Falls as well as offering an opportunity to see the epic coastline of the south. I was awake at 6AM and scooting around town, mistaken that the ferry arrived at 7AM when it actually showed at 9:15AM. I sipped cup after cup of coffee at an RV Campground nearby while the fog collected into droplets on my beard. By 9AM, I heard the hollow blow of the ship's whistle break the fog as the silhouette materialized like a pirate ship in a film. The vessel slowed and the crew tossed the mooring lines to the dock and began loading the freight headed to Rencontre East. The crane operator lowered a small metal basket which I pushed the scooter on to. A box of boxed furniture joined the bike and was swiftly but skillfully hoisted into the air and lowered onto the deck. I climbed aboard the ship and situated myself on the aft deck for the crossing. The water was silky smooth and the wind nearly nonexistent as the fog burned off to reveal a spectacular day on the water. The fog shrouded coastline disappeared behind me as porpoise, jellyfish and a whale dotted the bay's surface. Fisherman raced past our wake heading out to catch their daily quota of 15 cod/boat. I enjoyed the conversations on board with some friendly locals and watched the coastline pass by a mile off the starboard side. Within an hour, the outport of Rencontre East materialized before us and the engines wound down as we gently bumped alongside the wharf. Families waited for loved ones and goods to arrive, eyes searching for familiar faces on board. The passengers were given 30 minutes to explore the outport with most choosing to get a bite to eat at the only spot "Salty Dog Eat-In/Take-Out". There are no cars or trucks in the village with residents relying upon ATV's in the fair months and Ski-Doo's in winter. The roads are narrow and the houses clustered on flat spots of land and heeding no conventions of orientation with one another. The many colorful fishing stages look well used and functional while their small crafts are tied to buoys in a row out front. After a few quick photos and a stroll around the streets, I return to the ship for the last segment of the journey. The captain steers the ship closer to the coast than the usual route offering a great view of the barren rocky cliffs and short shrubs that struggle in the face of Belle Bay's winter winds.
0 Comments
Following my memorable stay on the Burin Peninsula, I headed west toward Fortune Bay. The road was pretty rough and in need of repair but that was something I had come to expect from most remote highways on the island. I had the whole afternoon ahead of me to ride around the small communities of Fortune Bay; St. Bernards - Jacques Fountaine, Bay L'Argent, Little Bay East, Little Harbour East and Harbour Mille. The roads were nearly empty and the few cars passing by gave me plenty of room. The sky was a beautiful blue, reflecting it's color in the lakes and bay. With weather warming considerably, I took many breaks to read or take photographs. The small fishing communities were quaint and smelled of the sea. Waving kids and friendly faces greeted me as I passed the modest homes and rickety wharfs. After a revitalizing shower in a TCH truck stop, I motored south down the Heritage Run onto the Burin (pronounced Byorn) Peninsula. The sun in my face and wind to my back as clear blue lakes dotted the ice chiseled land. Large expanses of barrens and bog comprise this unique landscape. Home to ptarmigan, caribou, hare, berries and abundant salmon rivers, the land offers all needed to survive if one knows how. On the first night I camped along the Black River beyond the 1939 railway bridge, cooking beans on the fire and enjoying the sound of the cascading river. I slept in the following morning waiting for the rain to pass and then continued up to the high plateau around 600ft above sea level. Low clouds spit soft mists on the breeze but I was just happy to be dry and warm in my suit. After some side road explorations, I turned down toward the quiet outports of Grand La Pierre and English Harbour East. At the wharf in GLP, I befriended a lifelong resident who, after a 20 minute chat, unfastened the lid on a white salt beef bucket to reveal a dozen cod fillets. "Here me buddy, have some feesh". I gladly wrapped the white meat in a trash bag and thanked him for the token of frindship. Returning to the Heritage Run, I thought it prudent to camp, knowing I had all evening to fish for trout, collect wood and enjoy the scenery. Numerous side trails with cabins and campers looked great for an RV but offered no hammockable trees. By chance, I turned down the trail to Grandy's Pond, a 10 mi long lake abutting a small mountain range separating Terrenceville from the main road and coves of the eastern shore. To my surprise, a sandy beach, campfire pit and stand of trimmed spruce proved the perfect campsite for the evening, or two. I cast my line into the mirror calm water and immediately felt a tug. Hungry trout. A couple rowed out into the picturesque calm , offering some advice on where to fish as they floated past. I'd later meet them on shore when they introduced themselves as Bill and Connie F. from Mt. Pearl, their white cabin I had passed on my way in. We chatted briefly before Bill offered to bring me a load of wood. How could I refuse? To my pleasant surprise, he brought two cardboard boxes full and a plate of cheese, crackers, chips, pickles and a dessert pastry! "This is from Connie". Wow! I'm conistently amazed and warmed by the abundance of kind souls on this island. As Dave said "it's how it used to be, it's how it should be " So true. I cooked up the cod and trout on my frindship fire then watched for the last boat who hadn't returned. By dark I grew concerned and rode up to their cabin to ask about the vessel. They assured me that they often went salmon fishing 30 min after dark and had to travel across the pond. Before I know it, I've got a cold Molson in hand and am sharing stories on their front porch. I listen intently to their shared hobbies here throughout the seasons and of children my age in St. John's, of family that married Americans and have gone away. Still to many who leave, the island of Newfoundland will always be "home". After a second drink, we return to the shore to happily find the ATV idling and the three neighbors safely returned. The stillness of the water reflects the low clouds shrouding the mountain and a hollow call of loons echoes through the humid air. What a place. I decide to spend another day on the beautiful quiet shores, fishing in the AM then reading in the sun throughout the afternoon. I may have caught a tan, maybe a sunburn. who cares, I was warm and even went for a swim! A local Terrenceville native drives over and has a yarn with me as I lay shirtless on the hot sand. He tells me about life here in the 40s before the road was built, of horse carts and caribou hunts, rock partridge and hare stews. Sitting on a tuft of grass behind me, he laments the progress of society and how young folk have no time or interest for ways of the past. I most certainly do but realize I'm not so young anymore. The day slides effortlessly away and I kindle a fire to cook my beans. No fish today and I thank Bill and Connie for offering me their four trout of the day. I couldn't accept them after all they've done and hope I didn't offend them.
The recent month has felt much like unseasonal depression with an inversion of cold and wet weather. After arriving in Placentia on a dreary wet night, I slept in the dry shelter of an abandoned schoolbus hoping for a break in the wind. In the morning, the sun began to burn through the clouds. The land takes on a new appearance in the sunlight with verdant hillsides in shades of green and lakes reflecting the azure sky in deep blues. The town of Placentia, formerly the French capital of NL, then known as Plaisance, is rich with international colonial history. Up on Castle Hill, the site of the fort protecting the harbour, I imagine troops amassing and the sight of canvas sails on schooners long gone. Walking along the historical signs down at the harbour's edge, I gain a better appreciation for the shelter it provided during foul weather, imagine the manicured stone beaches covered in salt cod and the smell of fresh baked bread from a small french oven. The Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 eventually ousted the French settlers who turned south , eventually establishing the fort at Lunenburg, NS, a location I hope to revisit after crossing the Sydney -PAB ferry. |
Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
Social |