Monday, 26 June 2006

J T Cheeseman Provincial Park to Grand Bruit (Newfoundland)

The sun was nowhere in evidence this morning, which was cloudy and grey. I packed up my things and headed back to Port aux Basques, this time by road - the TransCanada Highway 1 - to get a comparison with the T'Railway. Of course the T'Railway on an aesthetic level in that yesterday I was riding it in beautiful weather, whereas now I was cycling into the wind on a grey morning. On a more practical level you can travel much faster on the paved road surface, but you also have more hills and the occasional cuttings that obscure the views. Of course the T'Railway will be quieter, but with no services. (or signposts)

Port aux Basques was again swaddled in a light fog as I stopped off at the Harbour Restaurant for breakfast. Newfoundland feels colder than Nova Scotia, even when the sun is out, and when the fog blows in the temperature noticeably drops.

I set off out of Port aux Basques at 10 am, taking a short cut through the ferry terminal onto the 470 road to Rose Blanche. It's no word of a lie to say that it was a beautiful ride. Around every corner another improbably beautiful view. That's the sort of thing you invariably read in a tourist brochure and end up disappointed, but here it's true. A new vista onto the mountains with their knuckles of bare rock protruding through a carpet of green, big lakes and tumbling waterfalls and rivers of tea-brown water, little ponds with yellow flowered lilies and croaking frogs. Small blue irises line the road and the inconspicuous pitcher plants made conspicuous by their large dark red flowers appeared common in the wet boggy areas. Sheltered inlets from the sea and tidal pools. (You can tell it was beautiful when I start getting all poetic) The only thing missing was the sun and a little blue sky to make my photos look spectacular.

No moose though. Elusive beasts. How can you hide something that big? Moose is Scottish for mouse, so maybe I should be looking for something smaller? I did see a little shrew jumping around in panic at the side of the road - no fatter than the width of my thumb. The other thing I saw all along the road was discarded Tim Horton's cups (and other assorted rubbish) I lost count of how many I saw; I've come to hate Tim Horton's as much as McDonalds and their like - they obviously cater for the lazy and stupid. You've carried that cup along full, so how much more difficult is it to carry it away when it's empty rather than just throw it out of the window? I even heard someone in the Visitor Information centre ask where the next Tim Horton's was! Do you think they put something addictive in the food and drink to make people dependent? It wouldn't surprise me. The tobacco industry denied for years that they manipulated nicotine levels to make their cigarettes more addictive.

I cycled through Isle aux Morts and past Burnt Islands to Rose blanche at the end of the road. The village is quite pretty, the roads curving around and over the rocks where it can (making it hard to cycle) and the buildings line the waterfront or are fitted in wherever they will go. I stopped at the Friendly Fisherman Cafe for lunch - Scallops and fries. I'm happy to spend my money in the little family run places to support the local community.

It was raining lightly when I came out and headed round the one-way system (because the roads are so not narrow, not because the traffic is busy) and out to the Rose Blanche lighthouse, which was rebuilt in the 1990', for a whistle-stop tour. I didn't have much time as I had to cycle back to get the ferry to La Poile and Grand Bruit. It was raining heavier when I left the lighthouse for the short trip back. One hill was so steep that I only made it to the top by zig-zagging across the full width of the narrow road. A tricky operation.

The ferrymen didn't seem too friendly, and virtually ignored me. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the 'Newfie' accents were so broad as to be virtually unintelligible. My luggage went into a crate to be loaded into the hold and the bike was tied to the railing at the side. There were 2 passengers going home to La Poile, and 2 others going home to Grand Bruit (Gron Bruit, Gron Brewi or Grand Brit - take your pick of pronunciations) who were a bit more sociable. Everything has to go by ferry to these communities, so there was a new bed and mattress, other furniture, a satellite dish and boxes of supplies. The trip to La Poile takes an hour and a half, and to Grand bruit another hour. I dozed in my wet clothes for some of the way in the old airline seats that have been fitted in to the passenger area. (No safety briefing here) Adult one-way $5.50, Bike $2.50

Grand Bruit is a pretty well kept little place, with only about 40 permanent residents although this goes up to over 100 in the summer with family and other visitors. There is a camping area behind the church, but I was told I was welcome to camp in the storehouse on the quay as it was raining. Even here there is a C@P site with relatively fast broadband access in the school (2 pupils) so I could check email and do some blog.

It's quite nice to walk around a village where there are no roads - just a concrete footpath wide enough for a quad-bike to move things around. The little store was closed by the time I got there (or wasn't open anyway on Monday evenings) so I couldn't buy any beer to take to the Cramalott Inn - basically just a little shed, bring your own beer. I went in anyway to be sociable as this seemed the only way to meet the locals. There were only about 4 people there when I first arrived and I was kindly given a beer - my first for quite a while it seems to me.

Distance: 63.3 km
Cycling time: 4:13
Total distance: 2440.8 km