by Mike Daly
Imagine kayaking in a place where you see no other kayakers, no powerboats, no jet skis, no snakes, no raccoons or skunks. A place where you do see whales, bald eagles, icebergs and bergy bits, soaring rock cliffs, sea stacks and sea caves. Notre Dame Bay in Newfoundland fits the bill.
Amie and I were fussing over a vacation spot. We finally settled on Newfoundland. We got in touch with several outfitters before deciding on Explore Newfoundland . They put together a package that included everything, airfare, car rental, accommodations and vouchers for all the activities we were to attend. They also provided kayaks, paddles, stove and fuel and shuttles – for supplies and maps as well as to and from our destination. They even gave us a lift to town for dinner one night! As a result, we learned something about drivers in this part of Newfoundland. They never lose their keys because they leave them in the ignition when they park – there’s no fear of theft.
We arrived at Marble Inn and met our hosts, Joe Dicks and Ed English. They and their crew ran the inn and cabins, a kayak and canoe retail outlet (new NDK Explorers at $2900!!!), a sea and river kayaking outfitting and guiding company, a travel agency, Lendal paddle and NDK kayak importers (the only North American alternative to uno-who), two lighthouse bed & breakfasts, and lord knows what else. Joe and Ed sat down and chatted with us. After establishing whom we knew in common, we were treated like old friends. We were to find that they always found time to chat with us.
The next day was scheduled to be a rest day, but we were off to town to stock up on food for the trip. Then they offered us kayaks to check out. I was given an NDK Explorer for the trip. I asked about the extra cost (as per their web site) – “We’ll work something out!” I was told. I was told that several times before I realized he meant – no upgrade charge! Amie got a Looksha IV. We were both given Lendal carbon fibre bent shaft paddles with Archipelago blades ($300+ paddles in a rental fleet? Not bad!) We paddled on the Humber River out back of the inn for almost two hours.
On return, we talked to “the family” and played with Joe’s kids (two boys, 6 and 4 and a girl 20 months). The little girl, Madison, is the sweetest thing. Amie wanted to snitch her and take her home! They also had a big dog, several cats, and any other animal that wandered by and chose to stay!
We were scheduled to paddle on the south shore, from Rose Blanche to Burgeo, a roadless stretch of inlets, islands and fishing villages (called settlements in the Newfoundland patois). I could see from the air flight into Newfoundland that this was not to be. Whitecaps filled the Gulf of St. Laurence and the beaches on the south shore were white with surf. Plan B was to paddle on the north side. We chose the west part of Notre Dame Bay.
Day One of the trip started early. Ed looked for the 1:50,000 maps – no luck! And they couldn’t be purchased in town on short notice. I had to use the 1:250,000 scale topo maps that are little better than a service station road map.
We launched from Kings Point on Green Bay, a long thin finger of water. It was completely blanketed in fog; we couldn’t see the far side of the bay. I quickly realized that without my compass (packed away), there was no guarantee that we wouldn’t go around in circles. By the time we reached the eastern shore of the bay, we were about a half-kilometre off course! The fog blew over to the west side and left us paddling in clear sunny weather with the opposite shore invisible. Two bald eagles soared out of the trees and led us up the bay. We stopped for lunch and after retrieving the compass, I realized I’d forgotten the sunscreen! Amie had two sample-sized packets and offered them to me, on the theory that her dark complexion would minimize her burning. That was not to be, as we shall see.
On launching after lunch, a whale surfaced just offshore – a small whale – pilot or pothead. Two eagles and a whale in the first hour – not a bad start!
It soon occurred to me how different this was from what I was expecting. Georgian Bay features lots of small, low islands. Nova Scotia has larger, higher islands with lots of access points. This part of Newfoundland has tall towering cliffs with hills soaring above that. The steep rock reveals small gravel beaches with few flat spots for tents. This was to be more challenging than I anticipated! Towards the end of the day I started scouting beaches as a Plan B backup in case we had to return.
We never made it out of the bay the first day. I was not sure where we were and the map didn’t help. Lots of little coves and bays were shown as a straight line on the map. You really need 1:50,000 for this area. We found a good beach and set up the tent. After Amie prepared a great meal (salmon steaks with rice and fresh veggies) I pulled out the GPS to confirm the position. This was the first time I’d ever used the GPS for real navigating – I’d always used just map and compass before. It turned out we were a couple of kilometres closer to the start than I thought. I began to worry whether we’d make it to our destination on time!
Day Two dawned clear and mild. The weather promised to be good and it was as good as it gets. We rounded the tip of Green Bay and headed to Little Bay Islands. The ocean was calm, with a barely noticeable swell. The sun beat down on my minimal coating of sunscreen and I got off with a light burn. Amie turned darker and darker, with a light burn to boot. Beaches were hard to find and we were tired – it turned out to be the second longest and the hottest day. We finally paddled up to a great looking spot – Murcell Cove. It had low cliffs on either side of the beach and a gently sloping hill behind. The only drawback was the rotting corpse of a seal on the beach. With the wind blowing off the land, I wasn’t going to let that bother me. Clouds had been coming in for a while and just as we set up the tent, the rain came down. Normally, I’d have dived into the tent. Instead, I was so mellow from the paddling experience that I wandered around the campsite, slowly stripping off my wet tee shirt and shorts and letting the rain wash off the salt and sweat. The fact that it was getting cold didn’t faze me at all. Amie and I eventually crawled into the tent to read and nap. We weren’t too hungry, having had good meals up to this point, so we skipped cooking in favor of bagels and peanut butter – in between the bouts of rain, that is.
Day Three was absolutely cloudless. It was cool enough for fleece sweaters during breakfast. The sun dried out our gear while we ate. The horizon seemed so far away; the sky so blue right down to the sea! No smoggy, polluted haze. What a wonderful morning! While we packed up the tent, I became aware of an awful, stinky-feet kind of smell. After discreetly checking myself, I gave Amie an “Oooo Amie!” kind of look. She looked back at me and said “Boy, that seal really stinks!” Oh yeah, the seal! The wind was now blowing in from the sea.
This ended up as our longest day. While milder in temperature, the sun burned on. Amie now was quite dark, rather burned and her sunglasses had given her a “raccoon face” tan.
The sea was a little rougher that day, with little waves on a slight swell. The most open part of the crossing to Lushes Bight gave us the treat of two-foot swells. Pretty tame by most standards, but it was a welcome change from the mirror-smooth seas of the two previous days. We found an arch of stone at one point of land. I paddled into it, being lifted and pushed around by the swell. Not something this Great Lakes paddler is used to! I then paddled through a little rock garden, trying to time my passage with the swell to avoid hitting rocks. This was baby stuff compared to what some folks do, but it was fun for me to try. I began thinking in terms of a plastic Skerray with helmet to practise this in … and maybe elbow pads … and shoulder pads … maybe a face protector … and padded gloves.
In Lushes Bight, a settlement of about 400 people, we landed on a beach for lunch. A man and his gang of kids, with cousins, friends and hangers-on, paraded over to say Hi! It isn’t often that strangers in skinny boats arrive, so they had to check us out. We chatted a bit, while other townsfolk drove by and stopped to check us out. We offered the kids cookies, but they turned them down. Amie gave them to Dad, so he offered them to the kids and they munched happily. So shy and, I guess, street smart in a very safe, remote community. They left and while we packed up, another little girl, about eight or ten years old, came to watch. She was absolutely adorable with long blond hair and a pixie smile. She said she liked kayaks and wanted to learn how to paddle. Amie encouraged her to get her parents to let her do it and showed her how to get in the kayak and hold the paddle.
We steered a course to Brighton to camp, on a point almost inside the town. It was our last night out, and I was starting to regret the end of a short trip. We feasted on pasta with pesto sauce, eaten on a large flat rock like a table. After dinner, we wandered to the town side of the point and watched the slow, almost imperceptible activities of the settlement across the bay while the sun drifted down.
The next morning was a repeat of the previous. Our meager supply of sunscreen was almost gone so we longed for cloud. No luck – it was clear and sunny as far as the eye could see. I gave the last bit of sunscreen, so preciously hoarded, to Amie. Her face was dark reddish brown, already peeling, and her arms the colour of dark teak. We both opted for wet suits and long sleeves that day.
We paddled into town to find a phone so we could alert the outfitters where to pick us up. There were no pay phones in town, but a local let us use the phone in his workshop. “We’ve never had a tourist ask to use the phone before,” he said. We talked about kayaking for a while. He was amazed that we travelled all the way from Kings Point in these little boats. “You’re more courageous than me,” he said, “You must know more about the sea than I do!” This from a Newfoundland fisherman! I don’t know half what he knows, but I wasn’t going to debate it with him. His wife, doggy in tow, and a neighbour came over. We chatted some more and with friendly goodbye waves, made our way to the next destination.
I hadn’t looked at the map in a while. Knowing that Brighton Tickle (a tickle is a small channel of water) was to the south, we headed off. The wind was quite stiff by now and we found ourselves beating into it all the way down the shore. After an hour, we pulled ashore to snack and check the map. We had covered barely two kilometres! And the tickle was that teensy little passage we passed an hour ago! Invisible on that *^&%#@ map! It only took fifteen minutes to return, surfing most of the way. Through the tickle, it was only a few kilometres to the end at Triton (Troytown on old maps). There we found a kayak outfitter that welcomed us. He let us use his dock and shed to land and get changed. He offered us his house to wait in. “I have to go now,” he said, “But you can stay if you like.” They don’t lock their doors in these parts of Newfoundland; they still have faith in their fellow man. Welcome to Atlantic Canada, one of the only civilized places left on earth.
Dirk picked us up a while later. He offered us some fresh-baked date squares that Diane made that morning back at the Inn. A crowning touch to a great trip; but what do you expect from a class outfitter?
That may have been the end of the kayaking, but not the end of the trip. We picked up a rental car and headed off to Gros Morne National Park. This beautiful, much-hyped park was, to be honest, a letdown after the experiences we had kayaking. After all, looking at the park can’t compare with touching, breathing, smelling and tasting the environment to the north.
Next day was busy, driving to L’Anse aux Meadows and the site of the first Viking settlement in North America. This is a fascinating place for those with an interest in history.
Finally, the activity that turned out to be the highlight of the trip for me. We drove to Quirpon (pronounced karpoon!), boarded a small fishing boat to Quirpon Island and stayed at the lighthouse keeper’s cottage for the night. Ed had purchased it when the lighthouse became automated and ran it as a bed and breakfast. What a fabulous site! Perched high on a cliff, the house sits just inland from the lighthouse. No trees on this big island, it’s a hilly mass of rock, lichen, low bush and bog. The house was beautifully restored with wood walls and very tasteful furnishings. The beds have soft, high thread-count sheets and big fluffy pillows, all covered with handmade quilts. The towels are thick and soft. The art on the walls is from local artists and is available for purchase.
Doris, the housekeeper, treated us to a good meal of cod. We headed out to the helipad and watched for whales. Sure enough, a big one (minke?) surfaced just below the cliff. We retreated into the house and chatted with the other guests before heading off to bed.
The morning brought yet another spectacular day. Sitting on the “throne” in the washroom, I could see the lighthouse with the Atlantic in the background. What a view! After a hearty breakfast, we were allowed to climb up into the lighthouse, see the workings of the light and wander around the outside platform. Wow! I’ve always wanted to do that! I banged off a roll of film just there.
Later, sitting on the porch of the house, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. This, to someone who as a boy wanted to be a lighthouse keeper, was heaven on earth. A spectacular view, the cliffs all round, the seagulls crying from every direction, whales spouts rising in the distance – I could spend three lifetimes there. What a great way to end the trip.