I have been afflicted with the Bubonic Plague of colds and/or infections, viruses or whatever this is that has lasted for two weeks now. I have a head cold, a chest cold, two cold sores, cold feet, cold hands, not to mention receiving the cold shoulder from everyone because I might be contagious. Two weekends of outings have been missed and for that reason fodder for writing my column is sparse.
On that note I will delve in to the mental archives and write about an outing to Newfoundland.
About 16 months ago I had the privilege to go to Newfoundland to Gros Morne National Park and, more specifically, the tiny fishing hamlet by the name of Rocky Harbour. Officially I was there to attend a course called The Edge of the Wedge, which is given by the Gros Morne Institute for Sustainable Tourism (G-Mist). It was and is a three-day course on "experiential tourism" which is a key phrase and philosophy in the tourism industry. I have taken a few courses in my time and I've gotta say that this one is one of the very best. The three facilitators were professional, knowledgeable and switched off from one another seamlessly and kept me engaged all of the time.
As mentioned, the setting for these courses was in the tiny hamlet of Rocky Harbour, NL, which is in Gros Morne National Park. This place is a paradise for hikers, snowshoers and cross-country skiers. If that was all it was that would be enough, but there is so much more.
It is about the people with their unique accents and vernacular, the lives they live and the warmth and charm they exude in the face of, what to me looks like a harsh and rugged lifestyle.
My coursemates and I were privileged to go to a secluded fishing station and were greeted by a fisherwoman and two fishermen who showed us the ins and outs of gutting a few freshly caught cod. Most of the party gutted, extracted the cheeks and the tongue and then salted the rest of the cod in preparation for drying. The woman, whose name is Louise Decker, was hilarious while showing us the proper way to prepare the cod. She told us about her life and transition from Newfoundland's first fisherwoman to assuming full-time maintenance duties in the national park, in addition to becoming a part-time park interpreter. The two men, Bobby and Roger, then showed us, and insisted we attempt, the tricky techniques of making and repairing fishing nets.
After our fishy experience, we moved along the beach with a park geologist by the name of Rob Hingston to receive a lesson in Gros Morne's fascinating geological history.
On another day we went on a quest using GPS to search for two locations. The last of these was the Lobster Cove Lighthouse where we met Michael Brezinsky, who had a Maritimes connection. Both he and his partner Anne Marceau worked in Fundy National Park many years ago and knew many of the local Albert County crowd.
Michael explained a number of things through hands- (and tongue-) on demonstrations. The tongue part came in when he told us how to tell the difference between a balsam fir and a white spruce by tasting the needles. The balsam fir is actually quite sweet, whereas the spruce was high up on the rancid scale.
Perhaps the most interesting part of our encounter with Michael was the explanation of the Tuckamore phenomenon (the origin of the word is sketchy). The balsam fir and the white spruce and some other species in other locations on the island of Newfoundland are so windblown that, combined with the rain and snow, they become bent and gnarled in the direction of the prevailing wind as well as becoming tightly compacted and dense. Early explorers were able to walk over the tops of them in places, as they were difficult to walk through. By the same token, getting underneath them provided excellent shelter from the elements.
There were other experiential components to our course that I do not have space to relate to you here. They involved music on several levels, as well as experiences in cooking, hooking and looking. It was an information- and experience-packed three days, ones that I will remember for a long time.
I guess I had better get on to some hiking experiences. I stayed an extra two days after the course was finished so that I could do some hiking and exploring.
The first hike was to Western Brook Pond which is a landlocked fjord about 32 kms (21 miles) from the visitor centre near Rocky Harbour.
Keep in mind that this was past Thanksgiving and I was all alone; there was nary a sign of another human when I encountered fresh moose tracks. When I looked up, I saw four mighty hooves which were attached to a large (largest I have ever seen) cow moose. The dear dame was standing on the trail blocking my path forward. She gently turned her head to look at me and politely sauntered off the trail about 40 ft. or so as if to say "go ahead." I knew I should have nothing to fear from the great beast and gingerly tiptoed by her and continued on my way. I thought that was it until the lovely lady proceeded back on to the trail and started to follow along behind me.
I must say that I began to worry a little (a huge understatement) as I had no intention of being the pied piper to this enamoured ungulate. For a nearly a kilometre the moose followed me until I neared a dock where a tour boat would normally be in the busy season. I went through the gate to the doc, closing it behind me and went out to the tip of the wharf. I looked back at my friend who finally decided that I was not worth the effort and wondered off in to the forest. Whew! It was only then that I really started paying attention to the spectacular scenery in front of me.
The cliffs in the distance guarding the Western Brook Pond rise from the bog 650 metres (2,035 ft.) high and continue down into the pond which is 165m (544 ft.) deep. You can get closer and indeed up the cliffs if you continue on to Stag Brook and up to the top from Snug Harbour, but his is only for superbly experienced hikers.
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