June 24, 2003

Newfoundland - Baie Verte Peninsula

By Phil Nester
Coastal Adventures
June 24 - 1 July 2003
This is the second time I have gone on a professionally outfitted trip. The disadvantages are that you are watched over and guided like a yuppie tourist. You have no say in trip planning, campsite selection, or itinerary. Finally, an outfitted trip is considerably more expensive. The advantages are that you do not have to worry about doing any of the above. The biggest advantage is the outfitter provides all meals and meal preparation. The usual clientele of an outfitted trip are likely to expect a much higher quality and more elaborate cuisine than I would provide on my own trip, so meals are first rate. The food included steak, pork chops, fresh fish and scallops for dinner and bacon and eggs for breakfast. Participants are asked to chip in with slicing vegetables et cetera and clean up. Finally, the outfitter and staff will watch over the participants to assure their safety, and well being. This can be annoying at times but it can also be fun to have someone worrying about you. Scott warned at the icebergs, "Back up Phil. You are too close!"

Coastal Adventures of Nova Scotia was started by Dr. Scott Cunningham who gave up a career in molecular biology to create Coastal Adventures and provide guided trips. Among his accomplishments are circumnavigating Nova Scotia in an open canoe, he is a Senior Instructor in the British Canoe Union, author of the guidebook Sea Kayaking in Nova Scotia, and many magazine articles.

The original trip plan was to paddle from Jackson's Arm to Harbour (sic) Deep. Then return on the ferry that serviced this small town. However, the village of Harbour Deep has recently been shut down by the government and the ferry service discontinued. The ferry was the only access and all of its citizens were forced to relocate. Cod fishing provided the main occupation for many residents. Unfortunately, the Grand Banks fisheries have been destroyed by years of over fishing. Foreign trollers and factory boats took everything leaving no breeding stock to sustain the fishery. The industry collapsed leaving Newfoundland fisherman without a means of livelihood. Coastal villages are dying as the population leaves to seek employment on mainland Canada. The village at Round Harbour, where we ended our trip has only six occupied houses out of about fifty that are there. With the closing of Harbour Deep, Coastal Adventures was forced to make other arrangements. The Baie Verte Peninsula was chosen as an alternative

The Characters

Scott Cunningham, the leader, is sure of his self in word and manner. Michael Embree, a very accomplished paddler and guide. Genny Killin, a guide who served as a kind of glue that brought everything together, and regulated the various forces in a subtle but effective way - Very much like the way that a governor on an engine controls the RPM's. These three made up the staff. Paying participants were Dolores Wilmshurst, a feisty lady who has the better part of building three boats to her credit, Deborah Freeman, an 'outward bound' personality that is sure about who and what she is, Mike Forbes, a Canadian by birth who is now living in Colorado. And finally, myself, who has learned never to take anything too seriously.

The Trip

Our group met at the Deere Lake Motel on June 24 at 9:00 a.m. The drive from Deere Lake to Fleur de Lys is about one hour. Finally, as we descended the mountains to Fleur de Lys, the deep blue or the North Atlantic Ocean came into view along with some icebergs on the distant horizon. They shone brilliantly white in the bright sun like the wedding dress of a virgin.

Fleur de Lys is a quaint little fishing village trying to make the transition from a fishing economy to a tourist economy. Its main claim to fame is an Inuit soap stone quarry. Ancient people quarried round cores of soapstone that they then fashioned into square bowls for cooking. At this archeological site is a museum and research center. Scott treated the group to a tour before we headed off to start our trip.

Thanks to the airline loosing his baggage, Colorado Mike was without his gear, but Coastal Adventures was prepared to provide him with what he needed to paddle and camp the first knight. Arrangements where made for his gear to be shuttled ahead the next day. However, with the long daylight of the season, accentuated by being north of the fiftieth parallel, we ended up delaying the start until his gear arrived. It was late in the afternoon when we finally launched and turned our bows to the sea, but there was plenty of light left, and it proved worthwhile to wait. Waiting had given us plenty of time to pack the expedition equipment and supplies into our kayaks.

Coastal Adventures provided gear according to the needs of the participants. You could arrive with nothing but your cloths and rent as needed. Most provided their own tents and equipment but used Coastal Adventures' boats. I provided my own, even though it would have been more cost and time efficient to fly to Newfoundland and use one of theirs. I wanted to paddle my home built Chesapeake 17. Now I can say "I paddle this boat from the Florida Everglades to the north shore of Newfoundland." There was one tandem kayak in the group. It provides a large capacity center storage section, and is an ideal vessel should a paddler become tired, or injured. All the gear provided by the outfitter was quality equipment.

Following the contours of the coastline, our flotilla of seven people in six kayaks covered 87 statute miles from Fleur de Lys to the small fishing village at Round Harbour. Our first day was rather short because of our late start. The only open crossing we make was to the opposite side of Baie Verte, the namesake bay of the peninsula. We paddled though and along Ming's Bight, Hardy Harbour, Confusion Bay, Canillie Cove, Cape Saint John, Manful Bight, Harbor Round, Shoe Cove, Tilt Cove, and finally, ended at Round Harbour.

The rugged coast provided few places to land. Most of the interface of land and sea is along vertical cliffs reaching hundreds of feet into the air, or jagged out croppings of rock where the ocean swells churn in tumultuous confusion among the rocks. Narrow channels through rock, and small islands, or towering pinnacles provide interesting challenges during the routine of paddling. Some you can simply paddle through with little regard to the action of the waves. While others require precise timing to dart through a narrow opening on the crest of a swell that provides the water needed for clearance or the push of current. Of course it is best to be mindful of the directions of flood and ebb of the currents at all times while near the rocks.

It was to our fortune that whenever it was time for lunch or to set camp, a cove, harbor, or bight hove into view. We took advantage of them as we found them; fore to pass one by could mean a long paddle to the next. Of course coves and contour lines on the topo maps give strong indications of where landing sites might be, and Scott took advantage of local knowledge wherever possible, but we had no firm knowledge of this until we were there. As Scott said in the beginning, due to the logistics problem forcing the change of trip location, "This is an exploratory trip." His years of experience with coastal navigation helped to find safe harbor when the time came to land. A typical landing involved a steep beach with rocks the size of cantaloupes and watermelons. The rocks coupled with wave action and our heavily laden boats resulted in considerable wear and tear to my painted wooden hull. A landing in a cove that provided no beach involved riding a swell over a rock ledge, through a notch, and into a semi rectangular pool. As the wave receded, the boat would bottom out and the occupant could extricate from the cockpit before the next wave rushed in. The boat could then be lifted out of the way for the next boat. Launching the next day was the same process in reverse.

The campsites are among the most rugged I have encountered. The first one was a small cobble beach. Above the high tide line is a trench about 3 to 4 feet across and 6 to 8 inches deep of 3 to 4 inch stones created by storm waves. Scott suggested that I orient my tent over this trench so that I would lie in the bottom of the trough, and he showed me how to level the stones lengthwise with his foot. Rain would not be a problem because the hardest deluge of water would sink immediately through the rock. Following his advice, I was surprised at how comfortable it was. With no slope, I did not roll or slide off my pad. The loose, smooth stones allowed forming a uniform surface. A Therm-a-rest pad placed over the stones provides excellent sleeping. I looked forward to camping on the cobbles at future sites.

Another site provides a flat tabletop of bedrock covered with a three-inch layer of moss, lichens, and Alpine like wild flowers of which I felt guilty about walking and setting my tent on. It overlooks a large deep-water cove of the bluest water and sky. It is surrounded with splendid rock formations with bizarre folds in the strata and a 20-foot thick band of pink granite passing through it. It is one of the prettiest sites we had.

The most exciting site was a small rocky beach deep in a box canyon. The sides are rugged cliffs reaching from the water to the sky. A small, narrow, rubble and sand beach wraps around the back wall in a crescent. A short distance back from the water's edge lie large boulders and then the back wall of the canyon. A small trickle of water cascades down the rock at the very rear. Because of the limited space, I suggested to Colorado Mike that he and I share my tent. We found a place that we could make due by removing many bowling-ball size and smaller rocks to reveal a flat area of coarse rust-red sand. The next morning as we were packing, I was looking at the crag rising about 60 feet beyond where my tent had been when a mass of rock the size of a dump truck broke free from the precipice and fell down the side of the shear wall. The sound was beyond any words I have. It was all over in an instant. I looked around to count heads and noted that the others were doing the same. If any one had been there, they would not have had time to perceive it. Scott had prophetically warned when we landed not to set up under an overhang.

The weather for this trip was a wonderful combination. The water temperature, having icebergs in it carried by the Labrador Current down from the arctic through the Davis Straight, was about zero degrees centigrade. We had a few days of unseasonably warm air with sunshine and gentle off sure winds. We had one brief shower during a lunch stop that was of no consequence as we wore dry-suits for paddling the frigid water. It rained once at night, and there was frost one morning. Two days were foggy with the wind off the sea. This added greatly to the variety of the scenery. Rocky points and cliffs would loom out of the gray mist like ghosts. Their tops would simply disappear into the sky giving the impression that they may rise to heaven itself. We all stayed close so that all would be insight of each other. I thought to myself, 'If you got separated from the group, got out of sight of land, and missed the next point, It would be a long way to England.' I really enjoyed the scenic variety brought by the fog. The wind was generally light enough that it did not matter whether it was in your face or at you back. The only time I remember a head wind was for a short part of one morning until rounding a point. Often the wind was at our backs. The sea was usually calm with moderate swells. However, on the last two days a steady on shore wind gave us much larger swells and waves. It was a delight to paddle in large following seas, and I tried to surf. Although I could get a noticeable push from the waves, I never really caught one.

This writing would not be complete without mentioning that I am prone to motion sickness. I had a prescription for a patch to wear behind my ear to prevent seasickness. The day of the big waves was the day that I lost my patch. I do not know when I lost it, but there is a four-hour delay for the transdermal system to work. I replaced the patch after lunch but I still had a moment of seasickness in the afternoon. Nova Scotia Mike appeared at my side from out of nowhere to render assistance if needed. That demonstrated how close the guides keep an eye on you on an outfitted trip. I was okay and continued to paddling at a normal rate, but I was happy to reach shore where we camped.

The scenery from put in to take out along the north shore of the Baie Verte Peninsula is absolutely fabulous! Every point, cove, headland, and village would be at home on a calendar or post card. There are gorgeous waterfalls cascading down the cliffs to the sea, and sea caves are common. One cave was so large as to permit us to paddle into it all at once. It extends about 300 feet into a cliff. At the back, a huge pendulous rock hangs from the ceiling like the uvula of some hideous dragon. It was smaller at its top and bulbous at the bottom. I wondered what holds it in place, and was glad to get away from it. The wonders of the shoreline blend endlessly into one beautiful land and seascape from Fleur de Lys to Round Harbour.

The small communities provide another opportunity for scenic appreciation. Most were founded as fishing communities at natural harbors. Houses are nested into the hillsides in any place that a foothold could be purchased. Many are on stilts with boardwalks to provide access. Of interest in towns all over Newfoundland was the scarcity of trees. The harsh climate makes growth very difficult along the shore. The trees become stunted by frostbite as trees do near timberline. What appears to be a small young tree may in fact be many years old. Another outstanding feature of the villages, are the bright colors! Blue and green houses are very common. I saw pink, yellow, and purple also. The first community we stopped at had a cobble beach just outside the harbor. Some of us headed directly to the beach while the others headed into the town. Scott bought beer while in the town. That was a nice treat back at camp!

As we approached the town, one of the residents saw us while we were far out. He thought we were whales at first but did a 'double take' - He never saw whales behave as we were. He and others watched us as we approached. They had never seen anything like us before. Sure they knew about kayaks, but no one ever saw them in person. We became quite the attraction as the fishermen brought their families in their motorboats out to see our camp. They would glide close by our beach and wave at us. One brought his children out and landed at our site. It was a nice visit. I enjoyed his accent. It was this encounter that made us realize that we may be the first sea kayakers to paddle there since ancient times. We stopped at two other towns. We were always greeted with kind curiosity. We look rather conspicuous in our brightly colored kayaking gear, and we discussed how our dry suits look like Star Trek uniforms. I saw people looking out of windows, and children peaking around corners at us. We provided an interesting sight to the inhabitants. The people of the towns were very nice to us, and I am sure that we provided fodder for much conversation after we left.

Another small community, Tilt Cove, was the site of a copper mine. The mine has long been depleted, and of the few thousand residents who once lived there, only about a dozen remain. A small museum gives a detailed history of the town and the mine, and the gruesome tail of the December 12, 1867 shipwreck of the barque Queen of Swansea on nearby Gull Island just six miles away. The passages and crew were stranded in a December Nor' Easter. Three letters written in blood with a matchstick of Felix Dowsley to his wife tells of how they suffered until they perished from cold and starvation on the baron island that held no shelter, food or water. Two half-eaten skeletons and the letters 'neath the tattered canvas of a sail were discovered four months later. The last letter was written on Christmas Eve.

We not only drew attention while visiting the towns. One day a large capelin fishing boat approached us. They saw us in the distance and steered for us to investigate. We chatted with the friendly crew for several minutes before turning back to our separate headings.

The ice could well be included with the commentary on scenery; fore it certainly is a part of the sea and landscape. However, it demands more as it is like a living thing. Its life beginning as it fell as snow on Greenland 3,000 years ago where it compressed into glaciers and traveled in a slow but unstoppable journey carving earth and rock before it for hundreds of miles to reach the sea on the west coast of Greenland. Here it calves as icebergs into Baffin Bay and Davis Straight. The bergs spend about one year lingering in these northern waters before the Labrador Current carries them south into the North Atlantic. Some go directly out to sea, while others are carried by tide, current, and wind into coves and bays of Labrador and to the north shore of Newfoundland. As you approach them you can hear the life in them as they sizzle like the sound of bacon frying. It is their breath that you hear. Air trapped in the snow as the tremendous pressure of accumulating layers of snow over centuries compressed it. Now as the berg melts millions of tiny chambers of trapped compressed air explode into freedom. When you heft a small piece in you hand you can feel the popping of these invisibly small chambers. It is like the pulse of the ice. And like a living thing you must be cautions not to get in its way. As they melt pieces brake off and fall from above, or rise from below the surface. Seven eighths of the berg is below the water. The melting changes the center of buoyancy, and the berg can roll over like a giant creature tossing in its sleep.

We saw many icebergs at sea. Some looked like crystal cathedrals with spires extending high into the air, but the real thrill came when we saw them near shore. The first was a bergy bit about the size of an automobile. Safe enough to approach and touch because of it's small size. Next, were two table bergs, so named because of their flat tops. They were close together with the one being about the size of a football field and extending 30 to 50 feet above the water. The sides were faceted like a cut gemstone. The colors range from brilliant white to deep translucent blue with all imaginable shades in between. The other, the size of a four story apartment building. One end reminded me of the prow of Admiral Dewey's flagship Olympia, but ten fold the size. It had a fall of melt water cascading from the top into the sea below. Seeing these behemoth icebergs satisfied by desire to paddle among the ice, but there was more to come. As the trip continued, we saw other smaller bergs close at hand, and many bergy bits near shore. We used some of the smaller pieces in the center hold of the tandem kayak where our perishables and beer were kept, and I took the opportunity to place small chunks into my water bottle. It is almost hard to believe that things of such beauty can be so dangerous as to sink ships.

Progressing from the seemingly animate to the actually living, the wildlife on this trip was equally spectacular. Starting with the small end of the scale where the millions of little fish called Capelin. They are about 6 to 8 inches long and form massive black clouds in the clear water. During the high tide at night, they wash up onto the shore and lay their eggs. The sea gulls feast on them, the fishermen net them and the whales gorge on them. Many shore birds, all kinds of gulls, and black guillemot were common. We passed at least three major rookeries, where thousands of birds made their homes on little ledges and niches in the rock faces. Some so small that you wondered how they clung there. To say that we saw a flock of eagles over our camp sounds like an exaggeration, but what would you call no less then a dozen bald eagles soaring overhead at one time? The white head and tail left no doubt what they were. Pods of many dolphins appeared while we paddled. The main wildlife attraction was the whales. The first whales we saw were far in the distance, and all we could really see was their blows. Then we saw one closer waving his tail in the air. He did this over and over, standing on his head with his tail straight out of the water as if he was waving to us. Then it would slap down on the surface and disappear. Then he would do it all again, and again until will paddled out of sight. Each time we saw the whales, they seemed to be closer. In one of our camps we watched them rise and blow in the bay in front of us. I saw one rise and blow only a few yards in front of our camp! It was spectacular. Twice we saw the whales feeding by circling schools of cadelin with streams of bubbles and then rising up through the center to eat them. The best sighting was when a whale coming toward me, surfaced about 30 feet in front of my kayak, blew and dove under me. I would have felt fortunate to see a whale in the distance, but to see so many and at close range thrilled me beyond my wildest expectations. The whales were the icing on the cake.

I think this is the best trip that I have ever made. It included a small group of very interesting people. The scenery was one continuous geological marvel. The people we met on the way were extraordinarily friendly. Seeing and paddling among the icebergs in my home made kayak was a dream come true. Paddling among the whales was beyond my wildest expectations. It was a truly wonderful experience that I will treasure forever.