Scrapbook: September 2015

The Musketeers

We knew each other from grad-school days at Columbia, circa 2010. Stefano and I met over many long hikes run by the outdoor club there, while Mike and Stefano knew each other from studying Political Science and rooming together. We were now scattered all over the place: I work in NYC for a startup; Stefano teaches in Cambridge, England; Mike teaches at Georgetown in Boston.

Mike, Stefano and Raj

In what has become a fun annual post-graduation ritual, Stefano, and I wanted to plan a week-long trekking holiday for the end of Summer. Intrepid Mike, who's on sabbatical from teaching duties this year gamely decided to join us.
Through some serendipitous chain of suggestions and recommendations we agreed to explore the East Coast trail which hugs the rugged Atlantic coast of Newfoundland for 250 km or so.

The Newfoundland East-Coast-Trail

The Newfoundland East-Coast Train

Mike and I, with very little knowledge of what to expect, headed down to St. John's, the capital of Newfoundland on the 20th of August to join Stefano who had flown in from London. After allowing for travel, we had five days for hiking. We decided we'd head down as far South as we could, then find a way to get back to St. John in time for our flights on the 26th.

St. Johns

The St John's harbor

Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada's easternmost province, is interesting in its vastness (bigger than Japan and Germany) and its sparse population of just a half million folk. More than 90 percent of the population lives in Newfoundland with about half the state's population concentrated in the capital St. Johns.

I expected St. Johns to be a small sleepy town but it surprised us. The airport was small but sparkly, modern and efficient. The main strip in town had organic restaurants, men with bushy beards and piercings, graffiti and street musicians that for a moment one could have been forgiven thinking they were in New York's trendy Williamsburg.

Another characteristic that struck me was the utter friendliness of the Atlantic Canadians. People everywhere were genuinely curious about us and wanted to help whenever they could. People we ran across all uniformly wanted to stop and chat; so much so that I fund myself running away from people in busy parts of the trail in an attempt to make progress. And it all felt very genuine rather than a polite friendliness that is the norm.

Day 1: Ft. Amherst to Cape Spear

Stefano had gone to bed early on the 20th. Mike and I found a local pub with a very friendly bartender, unfamiliar bar-food and nice beers to ease us to sleep after a flight that was delayed for many hours.

We woke up Friday to clear blue skies and lovely weather. After a minimal breakfast at a trendy St. Johns bistro, we started off from Fort Amherst the Southern peninsula that guards St. John's hidden harbor.

Day 1

I had bravely estimated that we'd cover 20 - 25 kilometers a day, but I had underestimated the time it would take for us to get going and the number of stops the beautiful views and friendly Canadians would require.

Mike and Raj with Signal Hill in the background

Stefano at Freshwater bay

Lunch found us about 10 kms South at Freshwater Pond, a natural dam of large smooth rocks the rough ocean tides had created. We quickly realized that we would have the trail mostly to ourselves. Despite being beautiful and well-maintained, hikers were few and far-between.
Lunching on pita, cheese and chorizo, we took stock of food and discovered that Mike and I between us had brought too much food and so Mike decided to donate his couple of pounds of Whole-Foods gorp to the local fauna, which seemed to consist of a few scattered squirrels.

Lunchspot: Freshwater Bay

It was a lovely warm and sunny day, and we soon found ourselves drinking up the six or so liters of water we had among ourselves. A few ours after lunch found us at Blackhead, a tiny hamlet of about a dozen houses where we thirstily searched for people who could give us some water. All we found was an empty provision store, and after a wait the owner appeared to sell us some much needed water and sweet tasting soda (or pop as they call it in Canada).

Pop never tasted as good as in Blackhead

We decided to walk a further five kilometers to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of North America. We found a nice camp-spot next to an old lighthouse perched atop a sheer 100 ft. cliff.

Mike brought his luxurious armchair on the trip

I told ya, armchairs are good!

Day 2: Cape Spear to Motion Head

We slept well on our breezy perch high up above the Atlantic. Down South, we could see mile after mile of steep jagged cliffs being battered by the ocean swells.

Day 2

Day 2 also turned out to be lovely day with bright sunshine and blue skies. We were energized!

The view from Cape Spear, our camp-spot

All ready to head out on Day 2

Sun, ocean and sheer cliffs everywhere

There lies Motion Head, our camp-spot for Day 2

Motion Head

Lakes Ahoy

Lunch took us to Petty Harbor, a relatively large town that has a sandwich shop and a seafood restaurant. Though we had ample food, the long lines outside the seafood-spot convinced us to taste their offerings. My highlight was their seafood-chowder soup, a seafood-rich cousin of the thin potato-heavy clam-chowder I am used to having in New York.

Petty Harbor in the background

We decided to push on and camp at Motion Head which the map showed to have many inviting ponds. While the ocean was always close-at-hand, there were invariably sheer cliffs and nary a sight of any sand; I do not think I've ever seen 75 km of ocean-front with not a single sight of beach or sand.

Petty Harbor

We did find a lake, but we had not taken into account the nature of the sediment in the lakes. The bottom of the lake was a veritable quicksand of mud; wading in I nearly lost my sandals to the mud and lily-like fronds.
We found a relatively flat spot near the lake that would serve as our campsite. The evening turned out to be extremely blustery, so we were glad for the boulders next to our tents that protected us from the winds.

Camp, Day 2

Day 3: Motion Head to The Spout

On day three, as we moved away from Motion Head, there were plenty of blueberries to be had.

Blueberry Fields Forever

Clouds started appearing. We realized that we had been lucky to start out with those two sunny days in a place that receives 250 days of precipitation a year!

Hmmm...I hope my bivy-sack is waterproof!

Then the view changed dramatically. The 100 ft cliffs became 300 ft cliffs even more sheer than before.

Day 3, AM

Day 3, PM

Its a long way down

So, don't ask us to step back, better pics or not...

The Spout

On the way we encountered the Spout, a freak a freak-formation of nature that would powerfully shoot misty-spray 50 ft up in the air through a blow hole. A small stream flowed into a vertical tunnel in the cliff wall that opened out into the ocean hundreds of feet below. Periodically giant waves would crash into the ocean-opening, sending powerful gusts through the tunnel that would spray the stream-water into a cool geyser. The effect was exhilarating and could be seen and hear a mile away.

The Spout, far in the distance

from close

and right on top...

We found a campsite shortly after the Spout. It had one of the prettiest view from a bathroom I've encountered in a while. Perched on top of a woody knoll, the toilet was just a seat atop a composting hole looking out over the lushly wooded slope with just the sounds of the woods. Serene!

A Fire: with a little help from our stove

We decided to build a fire which proved to be more difficult than the ample wood on offering would have suggested. All the wood was moist from the numerous showers the area encounters and we needed to use our stove to dry the wood before the fire would get going. After much effort and ado we managed to stoke up the fire to warm us in the cloudy evening. It started to rain at night which then turned into a downpour. It turned out that my bivy-sack had lost its waterproofing and I woke up with a small pool of water at the bottom of my bivy. Mike and Stefano didn't sleep well either that night amidst the resounding pat-pat of the rain.

Day 4: The Spout to Bay Bulls

Bay Bulls

After a bad night of sleep we set off to Bay Bulls. It was another half day of sheer cliffs and spectacular views. The Atlantic was constantly crashing with violence into the massive cliffs on the ocean-front.

The rough Atlantic

battering the cliffs

Sheer 300 ft. cliffs

Deep gullies

And ocean

The trail started heading towards the sea again, and the cliffs were less steep. We found a lovely waterfall where we could lunch and cool off.

Lunch never looked so good

Hey, this beats my shower at home

We then had a rambling walk to Bay Bulls

The three musketeers

When we reached Bay Bulls, the sleepless night started taking its toll. The weathermen predicted rain again, and we decided that we needed some food and warm place to stay for the night. The lady who owned a nice bar in town offered her back-yard, with picnic-table, stream and all, for us to camp in.

Late lunch in the backyard of a Bar in Bay Bulls

However we decided to head back to civilization and St. John's.

Day 5: Signal Hill

Mike decided that he needed a break from hiking; Stefano and I decided to explore the rails north of St. Johns. We first went to Signal Hill, the Northern peninsula guarding St. John's harbor, then set off on a nice ramble that took us 10 km to a marine research lab perched on the cliff.