Cross-Canada Road Trip: Week 2
Newfoundland
The first time is dense with delicious sensations, emotions, and a bit of apprehension. At least, that’s how it’s been for me. Afterward, there’s the undeniable poignancy that it will never again be the first time. That the thrill, the anticipation, the mystery will not ever reach the same heights. Not in the way it did when it was still unknown and fueled by fantasy.
As it was when I first met Newfoundland.
Médée Bay, close to the only known Viking settlement in North America
My first time catapulted me into a wild emotional ride. As with so many wild rides, it ended before I was satisfied. Not that I rolled my eyes, gathered my belongings to leave, and vowed never again. No. I do want more and I want it now. I grieve what I missed, that I didn’t have enough time for a truly deep dive to slowly savor every moment.
A satisfying visit to Newfoundland is not to be rushed.
The proper name for Canada’s newest province (1949) is Newfoundland and Labrador. For scale, compared to the fifty United States, it would be fourth in size after Alaska, Texas, and California. Labrador borders Quebec to its north and east, and the Strait of Belle Isle separates the island of Newfoundland from Labrador on Canada’s mainland.
I had seven vacation days, plus the afternoons and evenings of an additional three business days. It wasn’t nearly enough time to sufficiently explore the west coast of Newfoundland, which is where I’d decided to concentrate my travels.
I could blame it on the weather. Even though it rained half the time I was there, I won’t. The blame lies solely on Newfoundland. It’s spectacular. I couldn’t get enough of it.
Newfoundland is reached only by air or sea. I chose to take my car on the ferry from North Sydney, Nova Scotia for the seven-hour crossing of the Cabot Strait to Channel-Port aux Basques on a southwest cove of Newfoundland. There’s a second ferry option from North Sydney to the Avalon Peninsula port of Argentia on the east side of Newfoundland. A 16-hour trip. I didn’t even consider flying into any of the four airports on the island, but you can.
The ferry crossing was well-run, smooth sailing, and remarkably less crowded than I’d imagined, especially in comparison to my experiences with air travel.
Usually, I do a good deal of research before taking off for some place new. Primarily for safety. I like to know where I can stay overnight in my minivan in proximity to whatever it is I want to see. A common concern of van life in general. Plus, the research is part of the fun. It heightens my anticipation. As far as “plans” though, I’ve come to regard them as a guideline. Bullet points. Rarely does anything go “as planned.” Between my penchant for detours, changes in weather, and the inevitable mishap, the concept of a travel plan is more to ensure I’m not unprepared. Yet, I was not adequately prepared for all the rain. I knew about it; I’d checked the forecast. But I didn’t have the proper outerwear and footwear for the downpours. I had hats, umbrellas, a rain poncho, and waterproof hiking shoes. They simply weren’t enough protection against a significant time in the rain.
Having used paid time off for this excursion, the clock was ticking. As a digital nomad, I can work from anywhere. For Newfoundland, I wanted a genuine vacation with real freedom to explore. Feeling pressed with this limited window of opportunity, there was no time to waste. As much as I tried to be in the moment, the foul weather made the entire road trip feel hurried. Rather than sit out the wet weather for too long in any one place, I continued to make my way north up the west coast of the island, following the Viking Trail. Whenever the rain subsided, I’d get outside and explore. I didn’t want to miss anything! Yet, I missed plenty. I gambled that whatever I passed on the way north, I’d catch heading south back to the ferry. It was a bet I wouldn't win.
Oh, about the “Viking” reference. I won't leave you hanging. L’Anse aux Meadows National Historic Site is the only known site established by Vikings in North America. Did I get to the protected, excavated remains of that complete 11th-Century Viking settlement? No, I did not. I did, however, make a photo of the sunset at nearby Médée Bay.
You might now understand my dismay over all I didn’t get to see despite my crazy compulsive need to drive the entire west coast out of FoMO. (“Fear of MIssing Out,” if you don’t recall the mid-aughts). That, and I decided it would be good recon for the next time I visit. Because I knew on the first morning, stepping out of the minivan to the fragrance of the sea above the village of Isle aux Morts golden in the early light, that once wouldn't be enough.
In June, Newfoundland is verdant. There are thousands of bogs, lakes, streams, ponds, and rivers. Everywhere are views of hills and rocky cliffs, snow covered mountains, and vast forests. When I was as far north as I could drive, there was still some snow on the ground, especially in the shadows where the sun doesn’t reach the forest floor.
While I didn’t get to all the fishing villages, hiking trails, provincial parks, and historic sites I’d marked on my map, I was absolutely enchanted by those I did visit. Nothing charmed me more than the isolated fishing villages in the very north of the great northern peninsula. My “plan” for returning to the places along the coast I’d bypassed in the rain was dismissed when I got to that northern dreamscape. Those capes and coves are the only places I’ve been to in more than three years of van life that gave me pause. That had me imagining summers in a tiny cottage on a rocky shore, the wind fierce and brisk.
Standing on a boggy cliff over Cape Onion, fighting to remain steady against that wind, I felt a savage romance that filled my chest and tightened my throat. As I hiked along the cliff’s edge over long golden grasses bent by the wind’s relentless blast, gazing out upon sea stacks and distant islands to what felt like the beginning of time, I didn’t want to leave. Ever.
Cape Onion, on the great northern peninsula of Newfoundland, opens to the Labrador Sea
Although, I did leave. Fairly certain I was at risk for frostbite. So much for the savage in me.
The joyous result of this first time is that I know now how much more there is to discover the next time. And the time after that. There’s great value in experience. In appreciating the possibilities of the yet unexplored.
Yes, Newfoundland and Labrador, the next time will last longer. Much longer. And I promise I’ll wear protection.
If you enjoyed this post, subscribe to get future posts delivered directly to your inbox!
Featured title image: White Cape Harbour as photographed from Saint Lunaire-Griquet in Iceberg Alley
