John and Cathy in Newfoundland 2013: Walked 12 km for an awesome view

July 12

What looked like a write-off turned out to be a magnificent day. When we awoke this morning and looked out our window, the visibility was about 25 metres in fog. We had booked a boat tour of Western Brook Pond, an ancient fjord with 2200 foot sheer cliffs. Not expecting much, after breakfast we drove for about 20 minutes until we reached the parking lot that introduces a 3 km trail to the dock where the boat departs. The fog hadn't lifted and it was patently obvious that the boat would not venture onto the water. Nonetheless, we treked 3 km on a pleasant gravel trail to the tiny pavilion where the boat tour begins. We were not surprised to learn from the "captain" that the 11:00 departure was cancelled. He announced in his inimitable Newfoundland way, "Well boys, we isn't about to tek yer money if youse can't see a ting." Indeed, we could not even see to the end of the pier.

Backup plan? We decided to walk back 3 km to the car and go north to the Arches, a spectacular geological limestone formation that has been weathered by wind and water. The site, just north of Parsons Pond on the Viking Trail, feature three spectacular natural arches that are the result of eons of pounding by waves on the prehistoric limestone. Aside from a few daft tourists climbing the cliffs in flimsy sandals, the Arches is an amazing natural phenomenon. It is a graphic demonstration of the erosional power of the sea.

Feeling a bit peckish, as the English would say, we took a chance and stopped at a rather grim looking cafe in Parsons Pond. Inside, things proved to be much more promising. There were tidy tables and chairs, and a very nice man who invited us in. We had a very good lunch--vastly better than at some commercial establishment like Tim Hortons. The pea soup was thick and tasty, with generous chunks of marbled ham and vegetables. The turkey sandwich, made with home-made bread, was authentic--pieces of turkey carved from a real turkey--unlike the processed slabs of mucous one gets in a deli. Cathy's BLT was simple but tasty. Best of all, we eavesdropped on conversations by locals about all sorts of mundane topics--actually we didn't have to eavesdrop: they talked loud enough that we didn't have to strain our ears at all. Jobs--or the lack of them--seems to be a popular,and understandable topic of discussion. One woman had taken a training course a couple of years ago, and was now lamenting that everything she learned was obsolete. "Everything's changing." she observed, and her two friends echoed her sentiment, "Yas, my darling, tat's true--everything's changing." A man, seated at a nearby table, asked where we were "from" and engaged us in conversation (as all Newfoundlanders do). He claimed that without "dat Alberta oil money, wees would be dead." It's a much repeated theme: the fishing industry has virtually disappeared (John Crosbie, a Newfoundlander in the Mulroney Cabinet imposed the moratorium on cod fishing in 1992, earning him the eternal hatred of Island cod-fishers.)

We returned to Western Brook Pond parking lot by 2:15 and re-walked the 3 km to the dock for the boat tour (total km for the day, in case you are keeping track is 12 km). This time the sky was a brilliant blue. The two-hour boat tour takes passengers to the northern most end of the fjord. Technically, it is not a fjord since it does not open onto salt water. The word awesome is tossed around indiscriminately to describe virtually everything. It should be reserved exclusively for Western Brook Pond. Travelling beneath the 1.3 billion year old imposing cliffs of granite and gneiss renders one speechless. Human beings are dwarfed by the grandeur of nature--we are put in our place and reminded of our relative unimportance in the grand scheme of things.

The restaurant at the Ocean View Hotel is quite good. We had a very good dinner--Cathy, lobster pasta; and John, baked salmon.

A glorious end to a perfect day watching the sun set over the Rocky Harbour.