Stalked by the infamous Newfoundland winds, lashings of rain,
and the onset of a brisk Autumnal evening I was starting to lose hope of ever
finding the elusive radar station before dark. Light was fading, and I had no
torch or camping equipment with me.
But here I was, keeping to a promise made to myself that I would explore the beautiful province of Newfoundland as and when possible on my days off from work. After all, what is the point of travelling the world if you are only to continue with the same drudgery and boredom that inspired you to leave? So after a gym session, heavy lunch and a lot of procrastination I found myself setting off for the abandoned radar station at Red Cliff.
A 1950s relic, the radar station is a good 20 minute drive from downtown St John’s. Or, if relying on the ever so efficient public transport system, a 90 minute journey away, by way of bus and foot. Finding a good hitching spot was nigh on impossible, and the walk, along rural residential roads was uninspiring, save for the odd glimpse into the ocean or onto distant cliff edges.
I finally reached the path that lead to the old station, which also serves as a trail head for the East Coast Trail. Unfortunately some parts seemed out of reach, but I was able to still explore a maze of corridors and crumbling step, walls adorned with graffiti, and allowed my mind to imagine life at the station back in the 1950s, searching for intruders above North American skies.
Few pics below;
But here I was, keeping to a promise made to myself that I would explore the beautiful province of Newfoundland as and when possible on my days off from work. After all, what is the point of travelling the world if you are only to continue with the same drudgery and boredom that inspired you to leave? So after a gym session, heavy lunch and a lot of procrastination I found myself setting off for the abandoned radar station at Red Cliff.
A 1950s relic, the radar station is a good 20 minute drive from downtown St John’s. Or, if relying on the ever so efficient public transport system, a 90 minute journey away, by way of bus and foot. Finding a good hitching spot was nigh on impossible, and the walk, along rural residential roads was uninspiring, save for the odd glimpse into the ocean or onto distant cliff edges.
I finally reached the path that lead to the old station, which also serves as a trail head for the East Coast Trail. Unfortunately some parts seemed out of reach, but I was able to still explore a maze of corridors and crumbling step, walls adorned with graffiti, and allowed my mind to imagine life at the station back in the 1950s, searching for intruders above North American skies.
Few pics below;
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