Well the trip was pretty much over by this point. But there were still interesting experiences to be had. Francois was beautiful, huddled up against massive, hunched over cliffs at the head of its own small fiord. It somehow managed to be completely different from Grey River. There was more room, the houses were brightly painted and connected by a series of well maintained walkways. The people were incredibly friendly and welcomed us right away. They even had a campsite behind town to which we were readily escorted by a teenager on a 4x4. The wharf was lively and full of [View Full Entry]

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We got out of Grey River. Our plan was to wait for high tide and then go out the mouth of the fiord with it, but the sun was shining out on the ocean and we'd had enough. We didn't even wait for the ferry and ended up accompanying it to the narrows. We weren't a hundred percent on what the weather would do but as we cleared the mouth we were treated to incredible sunlight. Anything coming would be seen by us in advance. The winds were strongish but not unmanageable, the waves were big, but we'd dealt with that [View Full Entry]

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We mulled over whether to stay in town somewhere or try to find a campsite. We opted to sail up the Fiord (as beautiful as western brook in gros morne) to a spot called Frenchman's Cove that someone, we thought, had said was a sandy beach and a nice place to camp. Once again, our accent / language barrier led us astray. The cove, about two miles from Grey River, was a rocky beach, with really nowhere to camp. Maybe beach meant rocks to Grey River folk? We didn't know. More pressing was the rain, increasing now to a torrent. The [View Full Entry]

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The sea out there was rough. Coming out of the quiet shelter of Fox Harbour we were met with steep, choppy waves. The swells were not only bigger than before but completely unpredictable, sometimes rising up beside us in slate grey walls, well over our heads, forcing us to turn the boat into the wave, and sometimes we fell hard off the back of a wave with an unavoidable violence. We could see the headland marking the entrance to Grey River only 9 miles away. The shore to our left was a cliff, essentially. We both were very silent, which was [View Full Entry]

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We left paradise and went to Burgeo. Burgeo is the one town on the south coast that is connected to the Transcanada by a long, empty road. So it has cars and a lot of people. Weird. We ate fish and chips in a cafe and used the telephone. Also... weird. Burgeo is beautiful, really. Long sand beaches, rocky islands with remnants of towns that once were. I had been reading Clare Mowat's 'outport people', which is about her and Farley Mowat's time living in an outport in the 60's. The placename is not stated, but its obviously Burgeo. It sure [View Full Entry]

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We pedalled out of Culotte Cove into an uncertain, windless sea. The sky was dark and foreboding, but it was clear the gale had passed on, leaving calm seas in its wake. We drifted in and out of thick fog patches all day, at times unable to see anything but the swells around us, until the mist would lift and treat us to the sight of primeval rock islands rising unexpectedly from the water. We were able to navigate using GPS, so we were not lost, as this stylish picture of me would suggest, but it was eerie to be out [View Full Entry]

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If you look on a map, you will see that Newfoundland sticks far out into the Atlantic. If we had been blown out to sea by a strong Northerly there is no landmass we would be blown into. Indeed, there is no land straight south until Antarctica, 10 000 miles away. And Newfoundland is a force to be reckoned with. All the literature we read before going told us that thick, impenetratable fog banks cling to the coast until late July, and cold weather and storms move in in late august. Early august, the time we headed out, was the best, [View Full Entry]

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I remember well the first time i saw a map of newfoundland. It was just a road map, an insert into a much bigger map of the rest of the maritimes. I was instantly struck by the complete lack of road along much of the south coast of the island. I'm from Ontario. In Ontario, there are roads everywhere, even in comparitively remote areas like the place i'm from. The idea of this forlorn coast, dotted with towns, yet accessible only by boat, was fascinating to me. What was the coastline like? Who were these people living in Grand Bruit and [View Full Entry]

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