Markmas Road Trip - Newfoundland Resettlement.

Before my first solo trip in 2009, to Japan, I was excited about all the new experiences I would have. I envisaged getting lost in small towns and discovering hidden gems with my new Japanese best friends. But with each train booked in advance, and each night's accommodation booked in advance the chances of wandering, adventuring, and spontaneity were slim.

Instead I traveled from backpacker's hostel to backpacker's hostel, from gaijin bar to gaijin bar, from horrendous hangover to horrendous hangover, and from one big city to an even bigger city. It was fun - But not the freedom I was looking for. There were no small towns, there was no nature, and there were limited interactions with local people. I was an outsider looking in.

My style of travel has been evolving ever since. I take weekend or post work hiking trips, hitchhiking trips, or even road trips. What better way to get to know a place than have no plan? To take on Microadventures, camping trips, and generally enjoy the great outdoors whilst interacting with the people that make a place.

And so for my birthday this year (Markmas) I rented a car and drove around my adopted home of Newfoundland. The plan was simple: No plan.

I left work with a hop, skip, and a jump on the Wednesday evening, and raced to the airport. I picked up the Elantra, hit the highways, and drove, drove, drove, until tiredness hit and I could drive no more. I unfurled my sleeping bag, reclined the passenger seat, sent a quick text to Elissa to let her know I was safe, and then kipped on the side of the road in a cabin community just outside Norris Arm.

The next morning I woke up to find the temperatures had hit -9c. I gulped down some cold chilli, ate some trail mix, downed some water, and hit the roads again. Where to? There was a place on the map called Rattling Brook - That sounded a cool place. And so I set off in the direction of Rattling Brook. There I found a cracking little hiking trail, and some great photo opportunities of some stunning scenery en route.

Rattling Brook

Where to next? How's about Gros Morne!?

The weather en route to Gros Morne was wintry to say the least, and made driving challenging. But upon arrival at the Tablelands all worries washed (or should I say, blew?) away. It was stunning! A true winter wonderland! In good weather the journey from the car park to the mountains would probably deemed a walk - not even a hike. However, on a day like today it felt like a trek.

Tablelands, Gros Morne.

With each gust of wind I was faced with near white out conditions caused by drifting off of nearby hills. Underfoot was slippery, and finding the path at times was challenging. However, only 30mins 'trek' from the car I found myself staring in awe at the Earth's mantle rising high above me in a cauldron of snow. I stopped, stared, pondered, eventually took some pictures, and then stared and pondered again. This place was truly wild, yet very accessible. I felt like I was hundreds of miles from civilisation. Yet, on a clear day I may well have been able to see the road. Who knows?

Gros Morne

I decided to leave the Gros Morne area after that with bad weather forecasted. I loved the wildness, but couldn't face the prospect of driving in conditions any worse than those already faced. I decided to head to La Scie. It was at the end of the highway, and you normally have pretty cool things in places at the end of the highway, right?

Upon arriving in La Scie I stocked up on provisions at a small supermarket in town. I got speaking to one of the proprietors about my trip and asked if he could recommend anywhere to camp or park the car for the night. Had he not had guests at his house he said I would have been able to stay with him and his family. As it was, he insisted I jump into his car and he give me a tour of the town in the dark. We talked about the area, and I gained a few ideas on some destinations for the next day. After this, I parked up behind the town's Ice Hockey Arena, and gained a bit of shut eye.

The next morning I headed back to Tilt Cove, having visited on the way to La Scie the night before. It was 6km off the highway, accessed by a steep track. I had decided against spending the previous night here in case a change in the weather prevented me getting out of town. The road looked a tad ominous

Tilt Cove

Tilt Cove

Tilt Cove claims to be Canada's smallest town. It has a population of six, down from a peak of nearly eighteen hundred. Mining has shaped this town, with some retaining walls supporting the cliffs. Houses, some inhabited, some  not, lined either side of the lake. Some houses were in a state of disrepair, some still lovingly cared for. I spent a couple of hours in town exploring in amongst the snow topped trees, down by the copper green infused ocean, sat by the mirrored lake, and atop the cliffs over looking the town. What a calm, quiet, beautiful spot!

Following this I inadvertently explored Brent's Cove and Harbour Round in an effort to find the resettled community of Round Harbour. Round Harbour was resettled in 2013 when the last two full time residents of the community voted unanimously to resettle. 20 minutes off the highway, down mining access roads and tracks I found the town.

Like the Mary Celeste, caught in a screenshot of time, the ghost town of Round Harbour defiantly stands proud in stubborn defiance of a myriad assaults. Vandals, weather, nor the ocean can destroy this former town's glory or heart. That's not to say she wasn't just a tad rough round the edges.

Abandoned Round Harbour.

Winds rattled doors and windows of houses and fishing sheds in various stages of decay. I found many places had cable tied doors shut to stop the weather's torrent of abuse going too far. In some cases though the weather  had cheated, and snuck through gaps in the clapboard. Through holes in walls I could see eulogies to Jesus, candles of remembrance and snippets of everyday life now lost.I wonder just how much life is left in this old lady when not only the residents have deserted, but the buildings are slowly saying farewell too.

After Round Harbour I decided to head to Little Bay Islands. This small community, a 30 minute ferry ride from Pilley's Island (reachable on a causeway from the main island) is one threatened with the saber of resettlement, with a recent vote narrowly rejecting the idea. 

The ferry dock was a few hours from Round Harbour and I set off without a delay.

But..

The car didn't want to play ball.

Approaching the junction with the Trans Canada Highway I noticed the car veering, and the handling change. I pulled over to investigate, and noticed my tyre was suffering from a slow puncture. Before I even had the chance to investigate what kind of supplies the rental car had in the boot for such an occasion a van pulled up behind me and the occupants insisted on helping. With their pump and pressure gauge all tyres were checked and when necessary, topped up with air. A few fleeting moments later I was back on the road. With a couple of petrol stations on the way to the dock I regularly checked the troublesome tyre, and it seemed to be holding up well.

With late November as it is, by the time I had arrived in Little Bay Islands it was already dark. I drove the few streets about town and quickly realised there were no restaurants, camp grounds, or even a convenience store. I happened upon a resident cleaning her car and double checked there was nowhere to stock up on food. She confirmed my deduction but insisted on feeding me for the evening.

Mr Plow saving the day on Little Bay Islands.

And so I went in, met her husband, and was treated to a fine meal of bottled moose sandwiches, cheese and crackers, banana bread, and coffee.

By this time I still hadn't showered since I left on Wednesday evening, and was rather conscious of the stench coming from my feet. Wanita was too polite to comment, and before I retired to the car for the evening she insisted on giving me a packed lunch for the next day. Such hospitality. Such warmth. And from a stranger.

I pulled in behind the old redundant fish plant and fell asleep to the sound rain pit pattering on the roof of the car. Come 6am when I woke, the sight was rather different.

Overnight the temperature had plummeted, and the rain changed to snow flakes. On the drive in the night before I had eyed a couple of hiking trails. I decided to take the car to the wharf, park it up, and explore. The road, weather, and rental company conspired however to stop this happening. With a slight incline, and the addition of only all season tyres I had no grip and no way of getting out of town. I parked the car up and walked back into town. Upon coming across another car heading my way I waved him down. He was unable to help. I waited it out for the plowman to clear the roads. Whilst slippery this did thankfully work, All this wasted time though had stopped any chance of hiking.

Once off the island I headed to nearby Triton. It was my birthday, and I met up with Elissa and a few friends.We explored Triton and Brighton, indulged in birthday cake and necked a few beers before falling weary eyed in front of the artificial fire.

The next day and a half was a lesson in patience and gratitude in others. Long story short is that, as always, the local Newfoundland folk were there for me when I needed them. As they always are. The car and rental company were not. After hazardous driving conditions on the Trans Canada Highway I had to bed down on the side of the highway. 24hrs after setting off for home I completed the '6 hour journey' back to St John's.

Such genuine and caring people, living in Newfoundland truly is a great experience. And the outdoors life is pretty sweet too.