Magical Merasheen

(Photos top to bottom by Alison Dyer: Paul & Andy on crossing; At play in the fields..; Tack's Beach; Swings at Tacks Beach; View north from Tack's Beach; Paul spies Eagle nest; Paul & mussels; View of Merasheen above Baker's Cove).

March 16, 2007

Until a couple of days ago the snow was piled high, barely saw the top of my 6-foot fence in the back garden. The kids have been using the neighbour's garden- and that adjoining below - as a toboggan run, their own private hill. Am thinking more and more of places I want to visit and explore this summer by kayak. So many bays, so little time.

Few years back 3 paddling buddies and I decided on a long weekend September paddle in around the islands off of Merasheen, that fabled long emerald jewel - once home to a people who had a strong song and story-telling tradition - in the middle of Placentia Bay. (Kayak Newfoundland Labrador has several trip reports on the area, e.g. by us in 2002, by Tim Hollett about his 9-day trip; and most recently one by kayaker-mountaineerer TA Loeffler - who leaves tomorrow, March 17, to attempt Everest!).

It's about 14km from Arnold's Cove in the bottom of the bay, across the tanker lane, to the tip of Merasheen. At any time of year the weather, wind and waves can make it less than ideal to paddle. So we arranged a trip with a small fishing boat, the owner also had two small basic cabins in an otherwise deserted cove that we could stay in. Perfect. So, the crossing was exciting, the bell kept ringing, a few others boats were headed fast for shore. Two or more hours later, I can't remember, we entered the channel between Merasheen and the Ragged Island chain.

We had a couple of days to dart around the many islands (a purported 365 in Placentia Bay) - if the wind came up one side, we had several options. That's the great part about paddling this part of Placentia Bay. Of course we had to take a trip up to Tack's Beach. Once a thriving community, it was resettled as part of the government resettling scheme of the 1960s. But neat cabins dot the idyllic landscape. By people of legendary hospitality. Our own little cove, Baker's Cove, over-looked Merasheen. Had a nice toast of screech while gazing up at the stars and over to the dark silouette of that island on the last night. Not a sound.

Another great day to snowshoe

march 15, 2007

Well. Here's an odd posting. About winter in Newfoundland, and there's a kid with a Newfoundland pony in summer. Apologies - I've not got to the scanner recently, but all will become clear. Keep reading.


A couple of weeks ago it was the day to snowshoe with the kids. Of course with a promise of a cookup with instant noodles, hot chocolate, kippered snacks and other things that taste sublime in the woods with the addition of a little bark.

We took the East Coast Trail from Flatrock (15 mins from where I live downtown) towards Gallows Cove, Torbay (son at pony camp in Torbay in photo above!). Snow clean, deep, powder-perfect, inviting blank canvas. Kids are still at the age where going A to B is arduous and probably boring so, well, B is generally shortened. They scramble after rabbit tracks and sniff out fully-skirted spruce trees like beagles. But if their quotient of fresh air is the same as a long walk then does it really matter? And if we didn't find lots of dead branches to built a lean-to (another enticement to a walk/snowshoe/ski) then building a snow wall around the stove and digging tunnels in snow is generally good enough.

Our snowshoes are not the fancy astronaut aluminum ones now available (maybe one day) but rather handmade ones by folks around the bay (i.e. rural Nfld) - wire, neon green nylon string, black electrical tape, rubber inner tubes - the result is very cheap and they work like a dream.

square dancing with eagles (sorry, no pics)

(photo credits: Alison Dyer except last beautiful photo of island with Newfoundland bonsai - by Lewis Greenland)

One of our trips a few summers ago was in Trinity Bay from Chapel Arm to Dildo. I wrote a short tip report - about eagles & eager kayakers: (for other photos from kayak the rock, check here)

When an armada of kayaks (particularly one in the pink, white and green), surge into a small Newfoundland community it is not unusual for a few locals to gather and hurl questions and suggestions to the group. On one trip to Chapel Arm, Trinity Bay, [i] a Mr. Otto Warren went one step further. While scrambling to zip up, buckle shut, and snap down, I became absorbed by Mr. Warren’s description of eagle preying behaviour (we had spotted one hardly a stone’s throw from the slipway). Within moments, he was reversing his car with a promise to bring the group some frozen mackerel. Before our entire group of lucky 13 had launched from the slipway, Mr. Warren handed me the bait in a plastic shopping bag. Tying it on behind the cockpit, I slipped into the Arm, looking forward to some eagle training.

Directly after leaving the slipway I paddled over to the eagle’s perch, and flung out some bait. An immature slipped into the air eyeing it and us. It circled, took stock and returned to its perch. Obviously I was too close. Trainer zero, bird zero.

We paddled up the eastern side of the Arm which for the most part has fairly steep cliffs without any decent take-out places until the barasway at Little Ridge Rock. But the rocks, however, are worth a closer look. There are many examples of pillow lavas – a volcanic rock that is deposited from submarine lava flows.. There are a couple of interesting sculpted overhangs and one or two arches that are not passable in low tide.

About half way up the Arm is Little Ridge Rock, a narrow rock formation, that offers more places to scoot around. At the tip of it we turned south and headed for the pebble and slate beach. Once the community of Little Ridge[ii]... Although we had paddled for only a little over an hour, this was an ideal location for lunch and a cook-up. It was also obviously a favourite with locals and we found several old fire pits on the beach. Paul toed one, found it still smouldering, and quickly got a fire going for a rabbit and tea boil-up.

We pushed the kayaks back in the water around 1:20pm and paddled north toward the tip – McCleod Point on the topo, Southern Point on the chart! Paddling along one can clearly see, across the Arm, the steep cliffs stretching from Norman’s Cove to Chapel Head. Like a bad case of sunburn, the cliff has a wide horizontal strip of red. The sedimentary rocks at Long Cove are a designated site of interest (noted in the Newfoundland & Labrador Traveller’s Guide to Geology). The rocks exposed in the cliffs comprise westerly dipping Cambrian quartzites, sandstones, conglomerates with apparently excellent crossbedding overlain by red and green shales, and red and green limestones, all apparently deposited on a shallow continental shelf. Both sides of Chapel Arm are bounded by Cambrian rocks that were deposited about 525-550 million years ago. As you paddle along the shore, there are numerous faults and igneous intrusions.

Rounding the McLeod or Southern Point, one has a good view around Trinity Bay. The coast from Southern Point to Martys Cove Point is bounded by more Cambrian sedimentary rocks, and has several pocket beaches and offers more in the way of rock-hopping. There are also good examples of the Newfoundland evergreen bonsai perched on a pinnacle of rock, giving the impression that soil is not a prerequisite for vegetative maintenance or growth. And some of the rocks, with their jagged edge and face a smooth steely grey, appear like two-dimensional paper cutouts.

We had only the slightest of waves, good visibility and could clearly see the partly wooded Dildo Islands off to our left. As we paddled over to Burn Point in the middle of Spread Eagle Bay, I saw a dark mark high above some paddlers out in front and remembered the thawing bait behind me. I was too far away to go for it.

Between Burn Point and Southern Spread Eagle, the shoreline rocks change from Cambrian to Proterozoic across an important geological unconformity ... Spread Eagle[iii] is cabin country, but it used to be a permanent settlement until 1967. As we continued paddling between Spread Eagle Island – a small island, partially wooded of low relief – and Old Shop Point, the houses of Dildo, Broad Cove were clearly visible on the other side of the bay. We paddled parallel to the coast to Old Shop, over to Lynch’s Point, and down to South Dildo[iv]. A few locals were out in the water picking mussels. We finished the paddle at 2:50pm. Arriving at low tide, we had a bit of slippery rockweed to navigate across. Finally, cramming into Dan’s van, we ferried back up to Chapel Arm.

Oh, so what happened with the eagle training you wonder? Paddling around Lynch’s Point it dawned on me that I had, tied onto the back deck rigging, a shopping bag of rapidly thawing mackerel and no winged takers. With Sue’s help, we released them into the water. In conclusion then, trainer zero, bird zero, but marine biomass five!

[i] Entry for Chapel Arm in Lovell’s 1871 Directory:
“A fishing settlement at the bottom of Trinity Bay on south district of Trinity; New York Newfoundland and London Telegraph Co. has an office here; Distance from Dildo 8 miles by boat.; Mail Weekly; Population 230.” The census lists all as fishermen except one telegraph operator. The family name Warren is also listed.

[ii] Little Ridge, TB – notes from the Encyclopedia of Newfoundland & Labrador:
- Population 53 in 1935.
- Likely that the first settler, John Cooper, came to Little Ridge from New Harbour area.
- Little Ridge first appears separately in census in 1884 with population of 15.
- The Coopers of Little Ridge were supplied for the inshore fishery by merchants of Norman’s Cove (“on a dead calm day you could bawl back & forth” across the Arm).
- First families began to move from Little Ridge to the Little Gut area of Chapel Arm in 1939. By end of WWII, only a handful of people were left and they relocated soon after.

[iii] Spread Eagle, TB – notes from Encyclopedia Newfoundland & Labrador
- Community was located in western bight at the head of Spread Eagle Bay which was noted for its fine beaches.
- Residents fished for salmon, herring, and cod.
- Population reached 30 in 1891 – Reid, Hillier, Smith.
- School built in 1901 for children of these families.
- Logging supplemented shore fishery and by 1930s there were 2 sawmills providing local employment.
- Pothead whaling took place in area.
- Spread Eagle also enjoyed a reputation as a fine trout fishing area.
- With a population never exceeding 80, Spread Eagle was resettled in 1967.
- Since Spread Eagle remained accessible by road from Old Shop, several families continued to keep summer homes there.

[iv] South Dildo, TB – notes from Encyclopedia Newfoundland & Labrador
- population of 272 in 1991
- Nearby communities of Dildo and Old shop qqv were settled by the early 1800s – no record of settlers in South Dildo prior to 1866 when family of Edward Lynch was recorded.
- Most men worked chiefly in lumbering, but there was at least one schooner from South Dildo involved in the Labrador fishery.
- Turn of century – small lobster factory began and there was one full-time farmer.
- Pothead whaling also played a part [as well as shore fishery] in local economy until industry ceased in 1972.
- Whaling station opened in nearby Dildo in 1947 [processed primarily Pothead & Minke whale meat and oil in part to provide food for local mink and fox farms].
- South Dildo received families from Spread Eagle and Harbour Duffett during resettlement programs of the 1960s.

Ode to the worthy stove

february 19, 2007

Ice pings on the window, wind shakes the walls, something in the roof creaks, my elbow aches. Winter. Newfoundland style. Never mind sun salutations (although they help). I'm in search of Odes to the Wood Stove. Above is my lovely stove (albeit at my place around the bay - I'm in the 'dirty old town' with electric heat and draughts that let in a legion of icy tongues).

Below is my friend Peter's stove he likes to hoist around with him when skiing across the barrens of Labrador or, as above, setting up for a New Year's Eve Day skating party on the hills and ponds not far from St. John's. (He's not taken it paddling yet.)

So, if anyone has a particularly fine ode to a stove - or would like to try same - consider leaving them here. We could do with warm thoughts.

11:30pm update. Can no longer see out the windows (what's new). House is shaking badly. Creaking crescendos. Computer monitor about to fall off desk. Ah. Time to play ostrich.

Ragged Harbour on the Straight Shore

february 16, 2007

The map shows a squiggle. I figure it’s about another ten minutes drive on a dirt road...The tires scrunch along a tidal offering of pebbles and mussel shells until the car comes to rest, spluttering, at the end of the track...This must be the place. Cabin on the right, and a boulder-rolled, crescent-shaped beach sharp with the scent of kelp on our left...

Days are spent beachcombing and exploring... careful of crabs, but oblivious to the cold water, they wade out to a large boulder they’ve named Crocodile Rock. Afternoons are spent riding the barebacked boulder, offering the sun their pale naked bodies, and drifting their nets below the water, teasing the seaweed nurseries for glimpses of tiny lives.

(excerpt from Products of Erosion, Alison Dyer 2005)

In July 2002 I took the family on a road trip 'all around the circle' as in the song. One of our first stops was at the cabin of a friend, well-known local musician Eric West. His little cabin in Ragged Harbour is but a 15-mins drive from his home in Ladle Cove on the straight shore. Across from Fogo Island.

A stark and rugged coast. Bakeapple flats behind, cold ocean beyond - I was standing on a thin wedge of terra-maybe-firma.

Anyway, Eric graciously loaded us up with goods from his freezer - moose, caplin, greens, his mum's homemade bread, cake, squares. We were good. I squeezed the car over the mussel-laden dirt road and it farted to a stop in front of his emerald-green cabin. Kids piled out and quickly got a beach fire started for dinner. That night Eric joined us and we sat in the dark as he played guitar, enthralling the kids with his many songs including the 'Brass Button Man' - a song that sent gleeful shivers down the kids' backs as they thought about this strange fellow on Duck Island - not far from where we were now staying.

The Brass Button Man

One evening last July, I won't tell you any lie,
I was fishin' off Duck Island for a spell;
I jigged a load of fish, and a bucket full of squid,
And I thought that everything was going well.

I was steamin’ in the tickle with my load of fish to pickle,
When I saw a figure standing by a shack;
On his coat was shiny brass, and he held a captain's glass,
And he carried a load of crunnicks on his back.
(And I heard him say:)

Chorus:

"I'm the Brass Button Man and I'll catch you if I can,
I'll chase you up and down the rocky shore,
And if you're not so quick , I will trip you with my stick,
So you won't be on my island anymore."

Now as you might suppose
I took fright and nearly froze,
And I headed out the harbour right away;
But when I looked around
No where could he be found,
And I haven't seen him to this very day.

( But I heard him say:)

Chorus

Now if you're on Duck Isle
And you're stayin' for awhile
Be sure to keep your doors locked in the night;
And if you hear strange sounds
Don't get up to look around,
'Cause if you do you're bound to get a fright.

(You might hear something say:)

Chorus

© 1990 Eric West (Vinland Music )

Eric is an avid paddler and we'd planned a couple of day paddles. The wind had other plans so we kept our kayaking and canoeing short in the sheltered reaches of this bay.

But Ragged Harbour left its imprint on me. And the few days spent there - watching the kids make inukshuks on an island at low tide, eating meals on the rocky beach, and revelling in thunderstorm backlighting the tuckamore - turned into a short story, 'Products of Erosion’ published last summer in The Nashwaak Review.

South Coast Musings

(Photos: White Bear Bay; Ramea by Alison Dyer)

february 8, 2007

Newfoundland’s South Coast is a place of almost mythical proportions. Fjords as long as memory, headlands with attitude, and surprising outports – remote communities that knit a narrow space between water and rock.

Back in the 80s, when the ferry still ran most of that coast, I visited the island of Ramea with a friend who grew up there. Jigged my first cod in White Bear Bay. It was huge. Then a few years ago I returned, this time to Burgeo, for a week-long kayak course. Around Burgeo I discovered a long kiss of white sand, a spray of islands, a kayaker’s delight. One day I’ll make it back for an extended paddling trip. For those interested, Kayak Newfoundland & Labrador has several good trip reports of this coast on its website, including one by instructor Richard Alexander, paddler/photographer Kevin Redmond, novice paddler Brian Newhook, as well as our trip report about further along the coast.

Grates Cove

february 4, 2007

One week last August, while I was still out at my place in Trinity Bay, the wind blew fiercely from the north. The sea roiled. Pounding waves echoed in the cove, bouncing off the cliffs and into my house. For nights my sleep was interrupted, raw, unrestful. I decided to drive up to Grates Cove, a small community I’d not visited for some years. But of course located at the pinnacle of the peninsula, many metres above the sea, the place was being battered by a noisy ocean. Winds whipped across its barren old fieldscape. The sky was grey and white with battling clouds, the ocean white and indigo in swirling choas. It was hard to breathe. It was magnificent.

Grates Cove is a National Historic Site, a designation earned for its miles of dry stone walls. (Imagine the wonderful hands that would have moved and piled these rocks.) These beautiful artifacts cover an area of 65 hectares. The rock walls enclosed pasture land, gardens, and graveyards, used to make root cellars and wells. Many of the enclosed spaces have names, such as "Moonlight Garden," "Grandma Warren's Spelling Rock," or "Dancin' Place."

There are a few storyboards around the site, some that describe how the walls were constructed:

Rocks are the most striking feature of both the natural and cultural landscape of Grates Cove. To build a house, clear a garden or make a path, rocks had to be moved. A perfect solution was to use them to construct walls.

Three different types can be identified: piled (or thrown) walls; stacked walls; and built walls.
A piled or thrown wall: A wall made simply by rocksbeing tossed in a pile to surround a garden. Although rocks varied in size, they were usually arranged with larger ones on the bottom or outside. Natural outcrops and very large boulders were incorporated into the walls and gaps became paths.
A stacked wall: In some gardens more care was taken in sorting, stacking and balancing multisized rocks. Larger stones were placed to create a wall 90 to 120 cm (3 to 4 feet) wide. Higher than a pile wall, with wooden gates, it provided good protection from roaming livestock.
A built wall: The most carefully constructed garden walls were 90 to 150 cm (3 to five feet) high, built with interlocking and balanced stones. Many had two faces, with the area between filled with small stones so that water could filter through. The built wall afforded good shelter from driving rains and high winds.

But other than a few plaques there's little to tell the visitor about the treasures that lie around the community. And while Grates Cove has been recognized for its national cultural significance, it does not appear to be mentioned in many places.

Looking at the ocean that day, kayaking was far, far from my mind. But someone will have to paddle around the tip of that peninsula, to help complete KNL's Circle the Avalon challenge. Probably won't be me.

from battlefield to babes

january 30, 2007

So here we are on the flanks of historic Signal Hill - a designated National Historic Site - an iconic place for most Newfoundlanders (and recently voted best place to make out and, well, also best place to splitzo) and one that tops the must-visit list of tourists. The proposed redevelopment of the Battery Hotel galvanized residents in 2005 when a developer wanted to build a 10-storey brute of a building. That developer, Rick Butler, has since purchased the hotel, painted part of it red and added this life-size poster to one side. As one resident has put it:

"Rick Butler now owns the [Battery] hotel...and that sign on the side is scaring the hell out of me. . . he thinks he is still inCalifornia. Next week there will be valets on roller skates . Maybe avisit in February will remind him where the Battery is . Talk about a cultural slap in the face! That sign is a HUGE warning of this guy's mentality and how unaware he is. "

Just hope this babe doesn't try doing that in St. John's harbour - she could hit a nasty bubble.

On the victory side, residents of Quidi Vidi - just the other side of Signal Hill, have won a victory over further inappropriate development in their historic village.

cabin fever?

(photo taken at little heart's ease, by john knight)

january 29, 2007

you know when my kids - especially #2, the son - start jumping around the house it's time to chuck them outdoors. go build a snow fort-shovel snow-put out the compost-sled down the neighbours back garden-look for flickers, whatever. goodness knows what my excuse is.

snow is continuing in st. john's. cabin fever could be setting in.

Newman Sound

january 21, 2007

The three of us were out to feast our eyes on the wild blue - a field of wild irises, that is. The July 1st weekend should have put us there - in Newman Sound in Terra Nova National Park - at the right time (see my story in Kanawa, summer 2003). As it turned out, we were a couple of days early, the lips were barely opened. But we found a rich intertidal environment brimming with comb jellies, starfish, limpets, sea urchins and anemones grouped like baked apples on a platter, all in a garden of gold rockweed and other seaweeds. And good swimming (okay, not in the ocean but found a couple of clear ponds to bathe in), great back country camping (complete with much-needed bear hangers), and an old deserted community to wander around (Minchin's Cove is still full of slab wood and rusty engine parts from an old sawmill, a few graves and root cellar depressions from the former community).

Ragged Harbour & the brass button man

july 2002 I took the family on a road trip 'all around the circle' like the song. One of our first stops was at the cabin of a friend, well-known musician Eric West. His little cabin in Ragged Harbour is but a 15-mins drive from his home in Ladle Cove on the straight shore. Across from Fogo Island. Well, it's too hard to describe to those not familiar with Newfoundland but suffice to say it's pretty rugged by even Newfoundland standards. Bakeapple-bog flats behind, cold ocean beyond - I was standing on a thin wedge of terra-maybe-firma.

Anyway, Eric graciously loaded us up with goods from his freezer - moose, caplin, greens, his mum's homemade bread, cake, squares. We were good. I squeezed the car over the mussel-laden dirt road and it farted to a stop in front of his emerald-green cabin. Kids piled out and quickly got a beach fire started for dinner. That night Eric joined us and we sat in the dark as he played guitar, enthralling the kids with his many songs including the 'Brass Button Man' - a song that sent gleeful shivers down the kids' backs as they thought about this strange fellow on Duck Island - not far from where we were now staying.

Eric is also a paddler, and we'd planned a couple of day paddles. The wind had other plans so we kept our kayaking and canoeing short in the sheltered reaches of this bay.

But Ragged Harbour left its imprint on me. And the few days spent there - watching the kids make inukshuks on an island at low tide, eating meals on the rocky beach, and revelling in thunderstorm backlighting the tuckamore - turned into a short story, 'Products of Erosion ', that was published last summer in The Nashwaak Review.

KNL's Annual Retreat

january 17, 2007

The May 24th Weekend. It's a big one in Newfoundland. I'm certain in other places they're raising a glass to Queen Victoria. But here for many folks it's about pitching a tent (or parking in the RV) in a provincial park and enjoying a few beers with friends. Not my cup of tea but each to her own. For paddlers, it means a weekend based out of cabins in Traytown near Terra Nova National Park; the opportunity to paddle the ocean or rivers, take a stroke or river-running clinic, participate in a day paddle with new and old paddling buddies, enjoy a cold beer at the end of the day, throw a frisbie, dance in the pub on saturday night, take in a banquet dinner with a guest speaker (fab kayakers like Justine Curgenven and Ruth Gordon) sunday night, and wake up hungry monday morning while the KNL board of directors cooks up an open-air pancake breakfast.

Yeah, cold days like this I'm looking forward to this May 24th - Kayak Newfoundland & Labrador's 7th Annual Retreat. About 100 paddlers of both sea and WW persuasion come out to the retreat. The location is ideal: two rivers nearby offer great WW runs and where they spill out to the ocean, offer the opportunity for sea kayakers to practise some moving water skills. And the rocky coastline is riddled with bays, coves, arms, inlets and fjords aligned in different directions so there's usually somewhere to paddle even when it's blowing. It may snow, rain, hail (paddled in all three one year) or be blistering hot. And if it's really too windy to paddle, well there's lots of hiking trails to go on in the nearby national park.

habits of mating murres and other quandaries

january 11, 2007

So, when you say they’re monogamous, is it a year-round commitment?

Seabird biologist and Canadian Wildlife Service research scientist Greg Robertson didn’t get his feathers in a flap for this (“no, it’s a summer romance”) or any of the other more, well, scientific questions put to him at tonight's lecture, the first of KNL’s 2007 winter series, entitled “bull-birds, tinkers and turrs.”

An entire colony of paddlers turned up to learn about Newfoundland seabirds, their ecology and how to tell them apart. I was fascinated by the talk – and the continuing bombardment of questions from the floor – and learned a whole lot more about species population, trends and problems (e.g. which species are more susceptible to oil spills, ghost nets, hunting, etc.).

And it turns out, kayakers can be hazardous to many of these marine birds. Kayaks allow us to get close to a cliff-dwelling colony without being detected - at first – but chances are a flock of startled seabirds could fatally dislodge their eggs from nooks and crannies. I was startled to learn just how few eggs most of these species lay (1 or 2). Just a few paddles by a few kayakers to an island or cliff colony at the wrong time of year could potentially decimate a local population. Something to think about. Greg suggested approaching islands straight on rather than surprising any nesting birds, and not to lunch at any bird breeding islands. Well, that makes sense. Small things we kayakers can do to help the survival of our feathered friends on the water.

At the same time, the coastline of Newfoundland offers kayakers a marvellous opportunity to observe seabirds - from an appropriate distance. Every year, millions of seabirds travel here.

In the autumn, many come here from the high Canadian arctic and Greenland. In the spring, swarms of them cluster in the bays and along the coastline (Artic terns, for example, arrive after a lengthy trip from Antarctica). Over the spring and summer it's possible to see gannets, murres, guillemots, kittiwakes, herring gulls, black-backed gulls, puffins (the province is home to about 95 per cent of the continent's Atlantic puffins), razorbills, loons, eider ducks, cormorants, bald eagles, ospreys, the list is near endless. Way more than I know.

Above photos: top one is Cape St. Mary's (from Cackle TV) - humungous gorgeous hunk of rock seething with birds on the southern Avalon, Newfoundland - easily accessible by foot - includes one of the largest Gannet colonies in the world. Other two are from website of Dr. Bill Montevecchi, a University Research Professor of Pyschology, Biology and Ocean Sciences at Memorial University of Newfoundland. Hope he doesn't mind my using them!

Circumnavigating Bell Island

january 10, 2007

Circumnavigating Bell Island can be a challenging paddle, particularly around the northern end when there's a good swell on and northerly winds. Just happened to be the case the day I paddled it with friends back in '03. I'd been out on a night paddle the evening before. Got home around 2am to a phone message 'we're paddling around Bell Island tomorrow - meet us at the ferry at 9am if you're interested'.

Well, of course I was, and what's a little lack-of-sleep. It was Regatta Day (so several people had the day off from work), sunny with some clouds. Winds started at 20km NW. We loaded up our boats after taking the 20mins ferry ride and at 10:30am headed north for a counter-clockwise circumnavigation (about 26km if I recall). Hit with swells of about 8ft with chop around the north head of the island - this is the challenging spot, there's a nasty shoal at one side, sheer cliffs and no take-out for about 2 hrs from the put-in. We gave the breaking shoal a wide birth, then surfed into a beach for lunch - one member who's a terrific paddler got seasick on this first stretch - and an hour-plus lay-down after clambouring through a mining tunnel and up onto a meadow. Geology of Bell Island makes a fantastic paddle - cathedral cliffs worn in folds like curtains, sea caves, massive sea stacks. The mesa-like sandstones of Bell Island are an anomaly in this Avalon region of mainly granite and shales.

While we surfed a good part of the western side on following seas, by the time we made the southern end it was dead calm. Rounding the end and paddling up the eastern side, the winds had changed to NE (isn't that always the way) but they weren't much to bother about. We were off the water shortly after 5pm - except for Mark D who poo-pooed the ferry and paddled over from the 'mainland' and back! I was paddling with some of Newfoundland's finest paddlers, had challenged myself to go beyond my comfort level - and went home feeling great.

The following excerpt is from Geological Guide to Newfoundland & Labrador:

Bell Island is close to the city of St. John's, and yet it represents a separate world with its own interesting mining history. The ferry to Bell Island runs about every 45 minutes from Portugal Cove, and the trip makes a pleasant day outing. A useful billboard map of the island stands at the bottom of the steep hill at the ferry terminal on the island.

The beach area immediately north of the ferry terminal is backed by high cliffs of Ordovician shale and crossbedded sandstone, appropriately called the Beach Formation. These rocks were formed in an ancient tidal environment where a variety of animals lived. Signs of these animals may be seen in trilobite tracks, worm burrows and shell fragments on the flat surfaces of fallen slabs.

Drive on up the steep hill from the wharf, turn right on East End Road, then right on Lighthouse Road to visit the lighthouse at the north end of the island. Park at the barrier and look east at the cliff face on the large detached block. The same reddish, gently dipping beds seen on the beach are present below, overlain by a band of grey, quartz-rich sandstone.

Proceed back along Lighthouse Road, turning right at East End Road, and follow it into the town of Wabana. Several large murals on public buildings depict scenes from Bell Island's history. The oldest open-pit iron mine, opened in 1895, lies off to your right as you drive straight through the town. Surface ore ran out in 1902, and mining descended underground, following the west-dipping, iron-rich layers as far as 3 km out under Conception Bay toward Carbonear. Beyond the west end of Wabana, just before the Trade School and another mural, Airport Road branches right. A short distance down it, to the right, is the entrance to one of the inclined shafts, dating from 1916. The iron mines eventually closed in 1966.

Lance Cove, on the southeast side of the island, was first settled by farmers and fishermen in the early 1700s.

Other beautiful photographs of Bell Island, from clifftops, available here.

out with the old

january 7, 2006

... in with the new.

And so we bid adieu to the twelve days of Christmas. (And son Ezra's tooth.) No snow yesterday, old Christmas Day, so we went biking. Imagine! And our tradition of burning Christmas trees in a big bonfire at Middle Cove Beach (we grab trees tossed aside on the streets of St. John's, ours stays up for quite a while yet) was likewise rained out. However, I enjoyed a fabulous 12th night party at a friend's place in the Battery - just around the corner from me - with lots of musicians to cheer in a new year.

Memories of Woody

January 5, 2007

Woody Island, Placentia Bay. It conjures up a bunch of thoughts. Jim Price and lodge owner Loyola Pomeroy organize the annual kayaker's weekend there in April. They even have a boat to follow the paddlers and bring them lunch! But Woody also makes a great day-paddle in the summer.

From the put-in at Garden Cove, it's leisurely 2-3 hour paddle to this resettled island. (And if you call Loyola ahead of time, you can order lunch - complete with toutons - at Woody Island Resort.) Oh, that's Sound Island, across from Woody, in the photo directly above and the Burin Peninsula in the background. Nice lumpy land, lots of wildlife (always eagles, usually a caribou or two, river otters playing in the inner reaches). Nearby at Rattling Brook there's a deep pool above a small waterfall - ideal for a mid-paddle refresher. On the outside of these two islands, one can see clear across the Placentia Bay (well, usually one out of three days) and often see huge oil tankers making there way to and from the Grand Banks glory holes.

Placentia Bay, on the south coast of Newfoundland, is a huge, ice-free deepwater bay. It's fringed with outports full of people with surnames of the original settlers and scudded with over 300 islands including Woody. A paddling paradise.

New Year's Dip

(photo credit: jamie lewis)

january 2, 2007

Quidi Vidi Gut, New Year's Day. The ritual paddle (if you can call it that) was started years ago by veteran paddler Jim Price (who just happened to be down south this time). A number of us regularly turn up to this small harbour, just minutes from downtown St. John's, and scoot down the icy slipway to celebrate the new year in a proper fashion - on the water.

Quidi Vidi, an historic village first settled in the 16th century and now within the City of St. John's boundary, had retained its appearance for centuries. It still has narrow winding lanes, fishing sheds, old buildings and lots of charm but developers are eagerly gobbling that up by building massive, architecturally-inappropriate homes on and near the waterfront. Geesh, you'd think we'd learn by now that the value resides in what we have and are, not someone else's idea of us.

Okay, back to paddling. It was chilly (ice kept forming on our decks & spray skirts) and a northerly wind gusting upwards of 50km kept a balmy -4C to feeling around -11C. Not cold enough to keep fellow paddler Peter A from trying out his new drysuit by executing a quick roll.

Fellow paddler and blogger Jamie Lewis also has a couple of reports on the day promised. My underwater camera was on the blink so I have none from the day - hopefully Jamie will blog his soon and have shot of the entire gang and harbour.