We visited Lanse Aux Meadows, the Viking site. For years, archeologists theorized that the Vikings had been the first to “discover” America, but could find no real evidence. In 1960, a Norwegian couple (the Ingstads - one an explorer and one an archaeologist), determined to prove the North American existence of the legendary site spoken of in Norse history (Sagas), finally met a local fisherman who had noticed unusual grassy mounds in the area. Twelve years of archaeological research followed. Those mounds turned out to be remnants of 11th century Norse buildings.

The Ingstads, working with Parks Canada, have reconstructed several of those buildings, and each summer, Parks Canada interpreters dressed in period Viking clothing, re-enact what life may have been like at the Viking camp. It was a thoroughly enjoyable and educational experience, and is a must for anyone going to the northern peninsula……and in our humble opinion, anyone coming to Newfoundland needs to visit the north land. There are two lovely restaurants on that peninsula – The Norseman, which has a much more gourmet twist, and Northern Delight, which does traditional food better than any other place we ate.

One of the Vikings in the re-enactment told us that he was playing guitar and singing the next night at Northern Delight, so at lunch there that day, we made reservations for dinner and the show. It was great fun, although a bit shorter than we anticipated, and the mummers showed up again, giving Dick and me both an opportunity to dance and make total fools of ourselves.

Chet and Gaye had left for a day in Labrador, a trip we decided not to make. I would rather go when we have more time to see it. Dick and I made one last trip to St. Anthony to “provision” at two of the best stores for produce that we had seen in any of the small towns in the province, and to buy frozen shrimp at the local fish plant (very tasty).

We then continued south on the east coast of the peninsula toward Roddickton, the next to last town before the road on that coast completely ends. As had been posted on our boondocking guides, the public wharf was the perfect place to camp. Once again, the water was right outside our front window. We had a few hours of daylight left so drove to the underground salmon pool we had noticed on our way in. It started with a 20 minute hike, once again a combination of well maintained trails and boardwalks, across the river and through beautiful pine forests, with carpets of ferns and flowers. We met a couple of locals who explained more about the area. We walked along Beaver Brook, a fairly deep, clear as a bell, fast moving small river, where they pointed out salmon in groups. We got to a land mass, where the brook flowed completely under it and came out on the other side. That is where the salmon lay their eggs in the fall. Dick was fascinated.












On the way home, we drove down a 16 mile dirt road to Conche, part of the French Shore. There is still a small town there, although it must be for summer residents only. I can’t see how they could navigate that gravel road in the winter. They do have, as usual, a beautiful long boardwalk trail that goes from the shore, up a hill, and back down the other side with spectacular lookouts along the way. I just can’t resist these. The cove and shoreline, with small islands and peninsulas jutting out from the mainland all around it was one of the prettiest and most remote places (once again!) that we have ever seen. What a nice day!!

That night a storm hit, with waves of rain and howling winds. It continued through the next morning, and it looked like the day would be a total loss for sightseeing. Just after lunch, we decided to go out anyway. We braced ourselves against the wind and rain, drove around a corner, and almost ran into a little girl, not more than 7 years old, riding her little pink bike, in her little pink helmet, as though it were the prettiest day in the world. These are some tough folks!! And we are such wimps.






About 30 miles back north was another, even longer, gravel road going towards Croque, the former headquarters of the French naval ships in 1763, where they patrolled the shores every summer, protecting the French Shore and the fishing from the British navy. They would drop French fishermen and equipment off every spring and return to pick them up in the fall. French ships returned to the shore each year until the 1970s to tend to the cemetery there and bring supplies to the people still living in the village. Croque was pretty quiet – a few cars, but no signs of life. There is a placard explaining the history, and a very old cemetery with graves of the French who died there.

We drove a few miles further towards St. Julien, which is just a few scattered buildings, but found again a beautiful trail!! The rain had stopped, although the clouds were still threatening, but off we went. What a treat. The trail wound through the pine forest, with lovely little picnic sites, complete with wooden tables and chairs, to a waterfall that spilled into the beginning of yet another cove. We walked about another 20 minutes or so to an area with large flat rock walls, where the French sailors, in their few hours of spare time, had carved their names.

We almost went back to the motorhome, but at the last minute, I decided to drive to the one more town left before the road ended completely – Englee. What a great decision. As we drove along highway 433, we rounded a curve on a hill, and looked down on the prettiest (and this time I really mean it!) fishing village ever. It is built around and into the cove, with a island mountain at the end and montains on both sides. We were totally captivated by the place. At the end of town, they had built a road to the island (Barr’d Island) and of course, the perfect boardwalk trail clear to the top, with lookout points all along the way. After we reached the top, huffing and puffing, the trail continued down to a shore with huge rocks, and then back up the other side. The skies had completely cleared, so both the sky and water were the perfect blue, making it truly the most magical place on earth (I realize that may sound like an overstatement, but it certainly felt like it J). They have a series of other trails, all fairly or very challenging, and we would have loved to try the easier of them. But, alas, both our legs and the daylight were giving out, so after driving down every little street we could find, we headed back to Roddickton. As we drove out of town, we noticed the most beautiful little public picnic area. Locals had built several picnic tables, each surrounded by those big wooden lounging chairs that you see in New England (the name escapes me), and a firepit. It was perfect. Unfortunately the light was totally wrong, and I couldn’t get a picture. We really hoped to be able to come back the next day to picnic and hike.

When we got back to our wharf home, a huge Coast Guard ship had pulled in, so the place was a hub of activity. A local came by to make sure we were OK and didn’t need anything.

Unfortunately, we awoke the next morning to very gray skies and a steady downpour, so we gave up on our Englee plans and drove back towards Gros Morne. We took a road that went inland instead of around the shore, Highway 432, and counted 6 moose along the way. For you RVers, that is a better road than 430 around the top of the peninsula. Back to Greenpoint Campground, where Chet and Gaye had returned as well. The skies had completely cleared, and the view was brilliant. Great campground….

We had heard that there was a significant geological site just around the end of the peninsula. Green Point has been designated as the boundary between the Cambrian and the Ordivician systems, and I will simply say that the rock formations were very interesting – they were pieces of the earth that were pushed up on their sides when these two systems joined. Enough of the weak attempt at geology, although I am including one chart, just to show how old these systems are. These two systems are second and third from the bottom.

While we were walking back on the beach past some fishing cabins, a local fisherman was taking salt cod off his drying racks. We had seen that several times with cardboard fish at museums, but never in real time. He explained the process, told me how he cooks them, and then sent me home with several. I was to start the next morning by soaking them all day.

It was time to move to the south end of Gros Morne National Park. We drove towards another national park campground, Lomond River. To all you RVers with bigger rigs…..DO NOT attempt to go to Lomond River National Park Campground. Luckily we did not hook up the Jeep for this short trip. We pulled in where told by the sign and there was a big flat spot with a dump station and drinking water– all good. There was a gravel road going off to the right, so I left Dick and Winnie and went to explore. This road was full of huge pot holes, and I drove, and I drove and I drove. Finally, I reached a very remote campground on the river. Although some sites were large enough, I was afraid that neither Winnie nor Dick would be in working order by the time they got down that road. I was driving out of the campground, when this young man came running out, waving me to stop. He said that he and his girlfriend were pulling out of their campsite when he dropped the front wheel in a ditch, and asked if I would be willing to pull him out. There was no way to communicate with Dick what was happening, but I couldn’t leave this guy in the ditch. He got in, and as I went towards the campsite, I saw his car at more than a 90 degree angle – boy, did he put drop his front wheel in the ditch!! As I was backing up, his girlfriend started the car (4-wheel drive), put it in reverse, and got out. Well, as technology would have it, a safety feature on this car locks all the doors automatically when it is put in reverse. So now, not only was he in the ditch, but the car was running, the doors were locked, and the back wheels were a’spinning! I thought he was going to cry. Luckily, there was some sort of camp a few miles from there, so I gave him a ride and left him in the hopefully capable hands of the maintenance guy. Meanwhile, I was worried that Dick might have started down the road from hell, but not to worry. We went back to a private park we had passed a few miles back.

That afternoon, we visited the Discovery Visitors Center for Gros Morne Park and explored the town of Woody Point, where, one more time, Dick couldn’t find chocolate ice cream. But it is a very cute town, and we did find chocolate chip cookies. While driving further up the peninsula, we stopped at a trailhead to read the sign. This was quite a long difficult trail – one we had no intention of trying. A couple of folks about our age were just completing the hike, and looked pretty tired. Dick spoke to the man, but he said he did not understand. It turns out that they are visiting from Berlin. His wife spoke a little English, and told us that their car was another 3 km up the road at the next trailhead. I asked if they would like it if Dick took her husband up to get their car. She smiled and said, “That would be a very good idea”. She and I chatted as much as we could, and they did invite us to call them if we get to Berlin on our European adventure next year. It was nice to do a couple of little good deeds after every one has been so nice to us.

The next day was beautiful, so we drove to Trout River at the very end of the peninsula and had a nice lunch at the Seaside Café – a restaurant that had beautiful views of the water. We hiked a short trail there in town to the Old Man, a rock formation, and then out to the point. I had remembered that there was a cache at that trail, and although we did not have our GPS unit with us, Dick stumbled on it. Yea!!

We had been told to hike the Tablelands Trail, a flat orange rocky area along big flat-topped hills that millions of years ago were ocean floor. When the North American and African continents collided, they were pushed up above sea level. It was a nice flat hike that ended in a very rocky small waterfall – beautiful. After a decent cup of coffee in Woody Point, and an hour or so at the friendly library with WiFi, we headed back to camp, where my salt cod from the day before awaited me.

I followed all the directions on the salt cod – was surprised how many bones cod can have in it – boiled the potatoes, sautéed the onions, fixed the broccoli, and was plum tuckered when it was all over. It was just OK – decided that salt cod is an acquired taste. The cuisine up here is built around what can be grown in this very short season (root vegetables only) and what can be caught and eaten fresh (fish and moose), and what can be preserved for the winter (pickled everything, canned moose and fish, and salt cod). As with most things here, it has to do with survival, not hedonism.

Our ferry leaves Port Aux Basque on August 30 (a week from now), so we continued our journey south to Corner Brook, the second largest city on the island. Chet and Gaye are in the Wal Mart parking lot, so we moved in as well. One whole corner of the lot was full of RVs and trucks – no conflicts about generators here!! There was also a Dominion’s, the closest thing to a gourmet market on the island – they are only in the larger towns – so I was able to buy fresh spinach – yea!!!

Corner Brook is on the Humber River. The area has forested mountains and valleys, and is developing itself as a ski area and playground for the rich and famous. We have heard that the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Oprah have homes in this area, although we have not seen any evidence of great wealth.

Corner Brook is at the base of the Bay of Islands and small villages line each side, so we explored one side each of the two days we were there. The unique thing here is, as the name implies, is the number of small islands, making for beautiful vistas. The second day, we took the longer of the two drives ending in Lark Harbor and a lovely little coffee shop and café on the water with an amazing view of the bay, mountains and islands. Pretty little coffee shops are at a premium here because most of the little villages could not support them – they are just in the more touristy areas. Exploring some more, we found a great harbor – in a back lot was a Viking ship. We created some visions of it being old until Chet pointed out that the carvings were made of plywood – oh well. Turns out that it was a prop for a movie that is being released this year. After visiting Blow Me Down (aptly named) Provincial Park and hiking to the top (an easy 20 minute walk as the ranger described it – yeah, right!), we returned to Wal Mart.

Internet access is limited to libraries, but we did find a café the day before that provides free access, Chet, Gaye and I went for more coffee. I sat there for more than two hours. It was the one of the very few times since we have been here, that I could surf to my heart’s content.

Our next stop was Stephensville, where two different sets of friends told us about a great boondocking spot. Once again, we are just a few feet from the water. Dick is complaining because there are no whales or porpoises playing outside our window. What a whiner!

As with all the coastal towns in this province, Rocky Harbour is a long narrow town built around the cove. It is busier than many due to its proximity to Gros Morne National Park and is the home of a full hookup park very popular with the many RV caravans. Making it popular with me, is the fish plant that carries a wonderful assortment of fresh fish, including cod, sole, scallops, mussels, and salmon.

We briefly reunited with two of the couples from the group we came over with. Chet and Gaye were there as well and we had a happy hour the first evening and lunch the next day. The lure of wifi on the site (sort of and sporadically) kept us there for a few days, but then we moved on to a beautiful national park campground, Green Point. No hookups, but a great view of the water. We squeezed ourselves into a site right up front, with our back wheels up against the cement bumper block and the bedroom hanging out over the hill going down to the beach. We spent the next couple of days geocaching and hiking, including to the famous Western Brook Pond – it was too windy for the boat trip that day, but still provided beautiful views. The mountains here are rounded and very green with beautiful pine trees. Gros Morne is a geologically significant park, marking a time when the continents of Africa and North America collided. Combined with the effects of glaciation, the park is full of dramatic cliffs and valleys, as well as an area of barren alpine-like terrain.

While at Green Point, we had the worst day of weather in the entire trip. For two days, the wind howled and the rain was relentless. Winnie was rockin’ and rollin’, and while logic told me that we were just as stable hanging over that hill as we would have been further in, I was still a bit nervous. Dick hangs a step ladder off the back of Winnie – the bottom had come loose and was banging around, but with the way we were parked, there were about 30-40 feet between that ladder and the ground, so it just continued to bang away. Howling winds can get on your nerves after a while, and we felt a bit of what it must be like here in the winters, when, we are told, the winds are ferocious.

The S.S. Effie was a ship that wrecked off the coast in 1919. All aboard were saved, but the remains of the ship are strewn along the rocky beaches for quite a distance, all rusted but identifiable, and quite dramatic. Nothing has been done to alter the site – a really effective way of commemorating the event.

We took a few moose-hunting trips at dusk, and were successful every time. Moose are not indigenous and were introduced in 1904 (along with squirrels and rabbits) to provide another food source for the locals during the winter. Predictably, however, they have multiplied to the place, that although they are great fun for tourists to watch, they cause numerous traffic accidents and are threatening the native balsam fir and white birch forests of the park.

It was time to head to the northern peninsula – which feels like the end of the earth. For you RVers, the road is not nearly as bad as we have heard, and if you just slow down, it is fine. The weather was spectacular and we had breathtaking coastal views all the way up. Boy, I can understand how people get addicted to living on the water. Although many people just come up here for a couple of days to see L'Anse Aux Meadows, the first (and only) Viking settlement in North America (1000 A.D), we had planned to stay for a week or so to see the rest of the area as well. I am so very glad we did. We fell in love with the province all over again. It is so remote and wild and beautiful.

We are camped at Pistolet Provincial Park, another dry camping site looking out over bog and pine forest. Moose are rampant up here (a local counted 24 going home the other night), and Dick is disappointed because he missed a 4:00 a.m. visit to the site across from us last night. Just a few miles from here is the town of Raleigh (pronounce Rally), the home of the Burnt Cove Ecological Preserve, providing a glimpse into a unique world of rare plant species. It is a large barren area with the lowest summer temperature and the lowest average annual temperature of any coastal location on the island. Combined with the effects of wind, the growth of plants is restricted and keeps them hugging the ground. I am really glad that we decided to take the guided tour, because otherwise, we would have thought it was just a big rock with a little scrubby looking ground cover. The guide pointed out lots of tiny plants, most of which bloom in mid-late June – Burnt Cape Cinquefoil, Small Roundleaf Orchids, Fairy Slipper Orchids, Dwarf Hawk’s Beard and River Beauty among them. The pictures we saw of them in bloom were amazing – and all maybe an inch or two tall. We saw a 200 year old willow tree, flat on the ground maybe 8 – 10 inches wide – they call it their old growth forest. The trunk was gnarly and twisted – I am usually not overly interested in botany, but this stuff was fascinating. We found ourselves tiptoeing around to avoid stepping on these tiny plants.

After lunch at Burnt Cape Café – a lovely little restaurant with free wifi – we drove to Cape Shore, a tiny village on yet another breathtaking cove. Icelandic poppies were in bloom and the villagers love to decorate with “yard art”. Someone built a charming miniature lighthouse and village on a rock jutting out into the cove. We walked a trail up to Cemetery Lookout (named for the pretty little cemetery at the very top). It is a beautiful area covered with the local ground cover, a spongy plant that looks like tiny pine boughs. It was a windy day, but we found a little protected spot on the backside of a rugged rock and enjoyed one of the most amazing views we had seen…….and we have seen plenty of amazing views!! Large sea stacks jutted out of the ocean, the water was bright blue, and the seagulls were suspended in air fighting the winds. This is a truly magical island.

The next day, on the peninsula west of our park, we drove to the very remote Cape Norman Lighthouse. This is another barren area, but mostly flat slate type rock. The locals have built a nice stone path with look outs along the way. While eating our lunch and staring at the ocean (a favorite pastime), we saw whales, our first since Bonavista Bay. Suddenly we saw more activity and four dolphins provided us with quite a show, racing along the shore like synchronized swimmers. What at treat.

Our next stop was down a very bumpy 10 mile gravel road (the Jeep was fine, of course, but Dick was pretty sure that that bikes bouncing on the back would never make it) to the abandoned town of Big Brook. Along the way, we passed the remains of a cargo ship that had been wrecked by a German U-Boat in 1942. The hull was still largely in tact, and like the S.S. Effie, pieces of the ship lined the shore for at least a quarter of a mile.

We reached the town of Big Brook and were amazed to find very nice houses, one at least that was still fully furnished, but completely abandoned, the electric service having been pulled from outside all the houses. Once again, it sits on a beautiful little cove, and the fishing dock is very much intact. Very eerie. After we got back to the park, we found out that it had just been “resettled” two years ago. When Newfoundland became part of Canada in 1949 (they still consider themselves the Republic of Newfoundland and see the federal government as nothing but parasites), the government found that they could not afford to provide services to all the tiny remote villages lining the coast. They started resettling towns, paying residents to move to larger villages, consolidating the population, which is still only 500,000 for the whole island. The fully furnished house is probably still used as a cabin, powered by a generator. So, in the end, the story wasn’t quite as dramatic – I had sort of conjured up a scenario where people fled in the middle of the night or something, but still interesting.

Along the road are huge piles of logs, all stacked very neatly, or arranged teepee style, each with a board nailed to it displaying a number. These are the stockpiles of wood for the winter, and the number indicates the owner. Wood carrying sleighs sit along side to transport logs in the snow.

Fenced in vegetable gardens are also very common in the ditches along the highway. The idea is that why would you dig your own garden when the provincial government comes along every year and “till’s” this fertile roadside land for you? Root vegetables are all that are grown in these gardens, due to the short growing season.

Chet and Gaye have joined us again, and yesterday we went to St. Anthony, the largest town in the peninsula. We saw the first stoplight we have seen in weeks (the only one in town). We were pleasantly surprised to find two grocery stores carrying better than average produce – a rarity here. We also toured the Wilbur Grenfell Museum. Dr. Grenfell was a British doctor who first brought modern medicine to Newfoundland and Labrador in the early 1900s. The stories of the poverty and disease in the local population were horrifying. There was one account in which a father had to amputate both of his daughter’s legs at the knee with an axe to stop the gangrene which was killing her. Dr. Grenfell heard about it and took the young girl to Boston where she was educated and fitted with prothesis, although she never saw her father again, as he was killed in an accident before her return. The doctor is a revered figure here, and the Grenfell Medical Center still provides most of the medical services here and in Labrador.

We have heard a number of reports about Twillingate, a beautiful fishing village on an island in the north central part of Newfoundland, and all of them were good. Our Boomer friends, Chet and Gaye, had been writing, telling us how much they loved it, and as it turns out, loved it so much that they bought a Victorian house and fish market!!! They will live up here during the summers, and spend their winters in their RV in California with family. We had to get up there (or as the Newfies say, down there – no matter what direction they are going, it is “down” there). We had been told that there is lots of boondocking, as there is all over the province. We ended up on a gravel lot right on the water, next to a Foodland Market. This week is the annual Fish, Fun and Folks festival, so the town is crowded for all the activities. Another small RV was in the lot – two women from Vancouver, the “Grannies from BC”. This is their 5th week in Twillingate, and their 4th year to come here. Just after talking with them, there was a knock on the door, and it was a couple who had seen our Escapees sticker, so we invited them in for happy hour. Meanwhile, we had bought tickets for a performance that night by “The Split Peas”, a local group of women who sing both original and cover folk songs. When we got to the concert, we already knew four people! Newfoundlanders have so much pride in their province and their people. Survival up here has never been easy, and the cod moratorium in 1992 just about brought them to their knees economically. The Split Peas’ music reflected all of that, as well as the joy of being a Newfoundlander – while much of their music was simply entertaining, there were very moving moments as well.

Twillingate is called the “Iceberg Capitol of the World” in that all the icebergs that break off in Greenland and Arctic Circle make their way through the waters by Twillingate. In the last few years, they have had few, if any, icebergs, but this was a banner year! Our friends, Chet and Gaye, Twillingate’s newest residents, came by to tell us about a huge one by the lighthouse. Actually, by the time we got there, we could see two more on the distant horizon. As I said before, I can’t believe the time you can spend watching them. As they get smaller and the winds pick up, you can watch them turn and move. There are boats, both tourist and private, circling, but none too close, because as they melt and break away from the base, they can turn over, and no one wants to be near that! As the week went on, and we were out exploring little towns and coves, it was not totally unusual to round a curve and see a huge iceberg right in the bay. On one occasion, a local took us out in his boat. It was a very hot day and the whole iceberg was shiny as it melted – just fascinating. Seeing icebergs is one of the goals of everyone visiting this beautiful place, but we were told that July would be too late, and usually it is. What a bonus for us.

We also rediscovered geocaching, and remembered why we enjoyed it. In search of caches, we discovered a number of hiking trails and scenic sites. Another thing we enjoyed, giving us a great way to meet locals, were the local church and Lions Club dinners. The church was serving good fish chowder and split pea soup with homemade pies, and for Sunday brunch with the Lions, we had salmon, the always present mashed potatoes, really good fish cakes, peas, and some kind of sweet berry cake with syrup.

As we moved west, we stopped at a park just past South Brook on Goodyear Cove. It is a strip of land with a pond behind us and the bay directly in front of us. There were only a few other rigs – it is a beautiful place, and we enjoyed three nights there. The hiking trails in this province are amazingly well maintained, complete with stairs (lots and lots of stairs) and boardwalks. We spent most of our time here geocaching and hiking, including to the beautiful Rattling Falls. There are so many coastal trails yet to be hiked, but our poor legs need a day off.

As I post this, we are now in Rocky Harbour in Gros Morne National Park – I actually have a wifi signal in the rig, albeit slow and spotty – yea!!!