Mistaken Point – Newfoundland

Cape Spear, Newfoundland, Canada

Last night, on our drive to St. John’s, we were moving in and out of rain showers, and while it wasn’t snowing, I wasn’t enjoying anything about it. After getting into the biggest city in Newfoundland, we found parking in a garage across the street from our hotel and were walking in shortly before 10:00. The smell of weed, fried food from the restaurant downstairs, and a hint of cat pee greeted us on our walk up the leaning stairs making for a strange transition from small towns to what is still a small big-city with a population of only about 110,000 inhabitants. When we woke, it was still raining; once back on the street, it had slowed to a light rain, though it was enough that I wanted to skip our planned stop for a hot breakfast and instead rely on the granola we were traveling with.

Cape Spear Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

First things first, meaning that the Cape Spear Lighthouse, only ten miles away, will earn a visit. The rain had paused, but we could be grateful for the lingering heavy clouds. I can’t imagine photographing this lighthouse in any more dramatic setting than the one we witnessed this morning.

Cape Spear Historic Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

Add another lighthouse to the list of places to come back to. This older lighthouse at the same site was put into operation in 1836 and was still closed while we were visiting this national historic site. I’d wager that should we make that return visit to Newfoundland, which I’ve been suggesting is likely to happen, it will involve flying directly into St. John’s to maximize our time out here. I’ve been reading more about St. John’s as I was learning the story of the Cape Spear Lighthouse, and it became obvious that we shouldn’t have only used the city for lodging; on our subsequent visit to the island, we should not only explore one of the earliest European settlements in all of North America but also take the time to tour the oldest lighthouse in all of North America.

Cape Spear Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

You might notice that this photo of the modern lighthouse is similar to the other shot. Caroline and I were unable to agree on which one was nicer. Her vote was for the first one, while mine was for this photo, which is obviously far superior.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Cape Spear, Newfoundland, Canada

I wonder if anyone has ever recognized that Caroline and I are almost the same height. If you know us, you should have noticed that that’s not true and that I tower a solid five or six inches (12.5 to 15cm) over her. So what’s going on? The truth is, I scootch down to her height, not only so we can stand cheek to cheek, allowing our smiles to be on the same level, but this affords me a better grip on her backside, which is often the motivation she requires to offer a heartier smile for the camera. Now you know one of our secrets I’ve never shared before, and it all happened at the Easternmost Point of Canada, the kind of significant place one should share such things.

Cape Spear Battery, Newfoundland, Canada

World War II is a distant memory for most, but this battery in ruin is one of the visual reminders that fear of invasion was everywhere, even on the coasts of North America. I wonder how much of my sense of the history of this site is informed by the war footage and subsequent movies focused on war from that era and how the 20 or so men in the crew would be working the turret, aiming, arming, and calculating the trajectory of the projectile? Do others think about how much their memories are informed by specific media exposure? I’ve seen elephants and the Alps of Italy, yet I fail to envision Hannibal leading a herd of nearly 40 elephants over the mountains in Southern Europe for an attack on Rome. Maybe that movie hasn’t been made, or I missed it?

View from Irish Loop Coffee House Witless Bay, Newfoundland, Canada

This is the view of Witless Bay in the small town of the same name, as seen from the Irish Loop Coffee House that sits just off the Irish Loop, which travels around the southern portion of the Avalon Peninsula. At a minimum, we would grab a couple of coffees until I asked if they could whip us a quick breakfast because we were trying to make an appointment further south and had precious little time to spare; they obliged us. While breakfast was a simple affair of eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast, and coffee, it was had while sitting at a window, offering us this view right here. Enjoying the experience and intrigued by some lunch items written on a nearby chalkboard, we ordered two brie, bacon, and apple sandwiches on croissants for lunch out on our trail later. At the counter, about to pay for everything, the oat cakes were talking to us, so a couple of those went with us. Little did we know, we should have taken them all. Thinking about them again, I’ve reached out to Judy, the owner, hoping to score the recipe.

Caroline Wise at the post office in Ferryland, Newfoundland, Canada

Waiting until nearly the last minute to have postcards delivered from Canada to family in Germany, we finally remembered to pull over at a post office to send them off. Postmarked from Ferryland, Newfoundland, the cards Caroline wrote yesterday at the Quintal Cafe are about to start the long journey to Europe, meaning she’ll likely get back to Phoenix before any of these reach those lands across the Atlantic Ocean.

Renews, Newfoundland, Canada

Comfortable with the time it took to reach the south coast, we felt we could afford a couple more stops along the way. This one was at the Renews River flowing to the Atlantic Ocean.

Near Chance Cove Provincial Park, Newfoundland, Canada

There’s not a lot to be found at the Chance Cove Provincial Park other than a pit toilet, a parking lot, and a trail to the sea, not that we saw any of those things, but that’s what I learned after looking for some relevant information that might allow me to share a thing or two. Then, there is everything else not listed on the park’s website, such as the environmental elements that would naturally be contained within these 5,110 acres (2,068 hectares) of land that were important enough to be designated as a provincial park.

Near Chance Cove Provincial Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Well, this isn’t nothing: near the provincial park, a crumbling old bridge from the previous road that would have been in use a long time ago, judging by the state of it.

Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens, Newfoundland, Canada

It was right about here that we first learned of the Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens, though I mentioned them in yesterday’s post. Notice the lack of trees; trees attempting to grow here will be stunted as the environment is not conducive to hardy plant growth. We are likely looking at a carpet of heath moss, which covers much of the barrens. As Europeans began settling in Newfoundland, these areas always had small populations because, at best, farming poor soils was a tough slog. Hence, the people of this corner of Canada still enjoy a special meal, known as Jiggs Dinner, that relies on turnips, carrots, and potatoes, but more about that in tomorrow’s post.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

We arrived at the Edge of Avalon Interpretation Centre in Portugal Cove South with plenty of time before our scheduled 12:30 tour of Mistaken Point, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We booked our two spots on this rare tour back in May, only to learn that through a computer snafu, our reservations weren’t to be found in their computer system. After showing the guide our email confirmation, it turned out that she was the person I had been communicating with back in May. She explained that this wasn’t the first time it’s happened and that it wasn’t a problem here near the end of the season. Only 3,000 people are allowed to visit Mistaken Point annually, and I thought we were incredibly fortunate to be part of that limited number. To get out to our trailhead, we formed a convoy of vehicles to drive the nearly ten miles out to a ranger station where we would be guided by two people, ensuring that none of us strayed or tried to collect souvenirs.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

If you didn’t notice it in the previous two photos, the heavy cloud cover of the first part of the day had given way to glorious blue skies. Walking the well-defined trail to Mistaken Point, our guides pointed out various features and history of the area. Not only were we invited to sample partridgeberries and Swedish bunchberries (also known as Cornelian cherries), but we also tried small black berries called crowberries. A shallow depression in the soil allowed for the accumulation of soil and facilitated this small stand of trees to take root. This small pocket of balsam fir, known as a tuckamore, is at full maturity, yet I can look over the tops; their short stature indicates the impact of the hostile environment on the barrens’ flora.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

It was not obvious, in the least, to my untrained senses, but this hillside and its rock cover are not here together by coincidence. While the slope of the hill is natural, the rocks were collected elsewhere and used to cover the area by early inhabitants who used them to dry fish on.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Taking any of the photos I’ve managed to capture since we got on the trail has been a bit of a race, as our guides are trying to keep us moving to maximize our time at our destination. While we know it is a fossil site, beyond that, we have no idea what we will be seeing today, as we avoided learning more until this day when we’d experience it with our own senses. Once Caroline learned that this was a USESCO site, that’s all that mattered as I made our reservations; everything else was an unfolding surprise, especially the weather.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

This is Watern Bay and the last segment of our hike to the mysteries that await us at Mistaken Point.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Okay, just one more corner where half of us are lingering while the other group readies themselves for visiting the site.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

There it is, the slab of rock we are so excitedly waiting to visit for ourselves, the rock that has earned the UNESCO World Heritage designation. Cynthia, one of the guides, is with her group explaining things I’m sure we’ll hear from Kara, the other guide. Meanwhile, we’ve moved into a small staging area where, in accordance with our agreement prior to being allowed to sign up for the tour, we are doffing our shoes as we are only allowed to walk on the rock wearing socks to protect the fossils.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

We are on the fossil surface, and while you may not see any of them from this angle, when you are here in person, they are so numerous that you’ll be at a loss to figure out just what you should be looking at. Some of the backstory about this site: this area was part of the Iapetus Ocean, which I first mentioned on our first full day in Newfoundland, so we are exploring a part of the earth’s history from about 560 million years ago, known as the Ediacaran era. The fossils here are not plants, though calling them animals might not be exactly correct either, but they were organisms. There are no known descendants of these early life forms. According to scientific data, most everything from the Ediacaran was extinct before the Cambrian Explosion, which began about 541 million years ago. As for these specimens that once lived on the floor of an ocean that disappeared, they were killed off and buried under the ash of a volcanic eruption, which is why they were preserved as fossil impressions.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

This was when and where words began to fail me. When Kara told us the names of these fossils, including their peculiar, not very memorable names, they had no touch points in my mind to connect with. We can only look at them and try to relate them to something else we’ve seen in nature, but that would be plants, certainly not animals. That this is likely a Bradgatia doesn’t say much, and without evolutionary ancestors who inherited some characteristics, what are we supposed to make of such things?

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe being in awe of such things is enough and is a lesson in humility about our limited abilities as the supposed intelligent humans we so desperately want to intimate. I say this because here’s an ancient early life form I cannot truly comprehend, but I’m typically delusional enough to believe that if I saw an alien, angel, or god, I’d find a meaningful way to communicate it. While it is true that a fossil is not an entity to be communicated with, I stumble trying to convey something relevant about an impression locked in stone. Thinking about this, if I were buried in ash from a volcanic eruption where I sit writing this, what would a future ancestor 500 million years from now understand about the impressions I left in the rocks?

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

For everything that we can easily see, such as what appears to me to resemble the double helix of DNA, how many other things were of such small size or fragility of makeup that they remain unseen to untrained eyes?

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

As far as I can determine, Mistaken Point is one of eight locations on our planet where Ediacaran age fossils have been found, but this spot on the southern end of the Avalon Peninsula jutting into the Atlantic Ocean is the best example of such fossils due to that volcanic eruption that buried them. Now, here we are today, about a dozen of us who, only between mid-May and mid-October, are allowed to walk on an ancient seabed to see the record of what lived here. It’s difficult to be here and not be overwhelmed by the magnitude of things.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

While the giant alien Charniodiscus dominates the photo, there are faint impressions of at least eight other fossils, or I’m suffering from the fossil version of pareidolia.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Like Mt. Vesuvius, which buried Pompeii nearly 2,000 years ago, everything on the seafloor that was vibrantly alive minutes before started to find itself buried under a rain of ash. Half a billion years later, I’m trying to wrap my head around this gargantuan leap in time while trying to decipher impressions that, in some instances, appear as if they were pressed into mud only recently. Nothing stops us from touching the fossils; we can walk on them because there is no way to avoid them. The only reason I’m not touching them and trying to avoid stepping on a single one is because of how rare they feel, and I don’t want to add to the inevitable erosion that is yet to come and has been happening for thousands of years already. To me, these are sacrosanct artworks that deserve our respect.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Pardon my heavy detour, but these experiences of walking on the Earth’s mantle at Tablelands on the otherside of the island, exploring ancient thrombolites at Flowers Cove, and now visiting these Ediacaran fossils that once inhabited the seafloor of the Iapetus Ocean mixed with my knowledge of the mind-boggling depth of glacial ice that buried all of this has me thinking even more about the bizarre sequence of events and the astonishing history that had to precede everything for me to have this experience. Then, thinking about history, glaciers, oceans, and our interpretation of fossils, I can’t help but consider that during the Glacial Maximum of the last ice age, approximately 26,500 to 19,000 years ago, sea levels were 390 to 425 feet (120 to 130 meters) below current levels. I can only imagine what we could explore if those sea levels were still so low, for example, the settlements that might have existed on the Bering Land Bridge between Russia and North America or the Doggerland Land Bridge between the U.K. and Europe. How did the flooding of those formerly habitable areas as glaciers were retreating contribute to the many flood myths within humanity? Anyway, this tangent has gone way off track, though it’s hard to contain my imagination regarding the effects of shifting sands, seas, and land masses, along with cultural and knowledge awareness to inform and enlighten our perspective of the world.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

This extinct organism, Fractofusus, was one of the earliest known animals. As I said moments ago, some of the fossils look like they fell into the mud only recently; this is one of them. Reading more about it, I learned that this creature represents an enigma to science. In some way, it is an alien because its body type is unlike any other plant or animal we’ve ever discovered. Most animals, such as humans, have what is known as bilateral symmetry, while things like starfish have radial symmetry, and jellyfish have spherical symmetry. Fractofusus doesn’t exhibit symmetry, making it nearly impossible to understand its body plan. Maybe Mistaken Point should be renamed Mystery Point.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

The round part of these Charniodiscus creatures is believed to have been a holdfast, that part of their body that anchored them to the seafloor.

Caroline Wise at Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Again, here we were without a banana to compare the relative size of the things we were looking at. Graciously, Caroline acted as a stand-in for one of these yellow-skinned tropical fruits. She’s generous in that way.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

I am so happy that I ran out of shareable images of fossils and that we are now on our way out of the protected ecological reserve.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

With that heavy lifting finished, it’s time for a break and picking more berries. When I mentioned the partridgeberries, Swedish bunchberries, and crowberries, I intentionally left out the blueberries because I knew this photo was way down here and that I’d be writing something or other about them. Now that I’m running into writer’s fatigue, I want to gloss over anything I might have wanted to say other than that they were yummy. [A perfect dessert after we had finished our sandwiches from the Irish Loop Coffee House – Caroline]

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Trails, paths, and roads crisscross our planet, going in every direction to take us to all corners of our earth, but for some of us, there’s a yearning to know what exists between those map points. This type of route finding is known as interstitial or free-range exploration, and while neither Caroline nor I have the requisite skills for that type of adventure, it is the driving force of that desire that brings us to places such as this.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

In Nova Scotia, at the Cape Breton Highlands National Park and again at Terra Nova National Park here in Newfoundland, we visited fens that support sphagnum moss. A fen is like a bog but with a steady water source. A different type of moss also exists in the barrens; it is called heath moss or woolly fringe moss and is part of the blanket and plateau bogs ecosystem. When you look at satellite images of this area, or you are flying over southeast Labrador towards the coastal region, there’s a good chance that many of the ponds being seen are from the plateau bogs that dot the landscape. Blanket bogs form over hills and valleys, while plateau bogs are more common in coastal areas.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

I have what’s likely an impossible dream: maybe if I learn more about the planet, I might gather a minor understanding of how it all fits together and is interconnected.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

In that sense, my blog posts and research are similar to this cairn. While passing us on the unpaved section of the drive back to the visitor center, our guides explained that it was placed here by the early inhabitants as a sign that this was a good area to find bakeapple, a.k.a. cloudberries. Blog posts are my cairns to remind Caroline and me of what was where and what we discovered and shared.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

On our drive into the reserve earlier, neither of us spotted this cascade spilling out of the landscape, which is indicative of that common human trait of being overwhelmed by the totality of what is being absorbed to miss many of the obvious details only seen at second glance.

Mistaken Point UNESCO World Heritage Site, Newfoundland, Canada

Yep, we missed this reflective pond, too. Maybe we had been too focused on the car ahead or were shocked by the sky clearing for our arrival at Mistaken Point.

Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens, Newfoundland, Canada

This was our view north after leaving the south coast. It appears we are heading back into the clouds.

Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens, Newfoundland, Canada

We are absolutely enchanted by this landscape that, for vast stretches, doesn’t appear to have anything growing on it taller than ankle height.

Sunset in New Bridge on the Irish Loop Trail in Newfoundland, Canada

It must have been shortly before 7:00 when we reached New Bridge and this view of the setting sun. After hitting some stretches of foggy road but no rain, we were close to pulling into St. John’s when we noticed that we had reservations at 8:00 for dinner at a place around the corner from our hotel. I have no recollection of what we dined on. It wouldn’t matter anyway; how can any of that compare to what our senses feasted on all day long?

Heading to St. John’s, Newfoundland

Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

This kind of morning is only found on vacation, well outside a typical day’s routine. On almost any other day, we don’t wake with the idea that we’ll take a coastal drive to the uppermost point of a spit of land to visit a lighthouse, walk along the sea, or find ourselves on an island, for that matter. Today, we woke in a bed that was not our own, though we got in the car that was ours, and then we did our best to reach the lighthouse. Finding a place on the map is easy, interpreting the series of turns to get there presents no difficulty navigating, and sharing excitement about where we are going requires no effort, but getting there, even if it’s only four miles away, is the hard part. When a bleached, rough-hewn post-and-rail fence stands in grasses before a small bay with an idyllic view of red, white, and yellow houses across the way (exactly what you think a seaside village should look like), you must stop, enjoy the scenery, and celebrate that this is the reality of a vacation that you were bargaining for.

Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

A photograph is an easy thing to see; they are so easily transmittable and shared. What’s not so easy is seeing a horse in the morning light with its mane, tail, head, and legs framed in golden hues by a molten gold sun and sky with sea stacks jutting out of the ocean in the distance. For that, you must be ready to see more, change your plan, leap from the car, find the aperture that won’t turn the horse into a silhouette, frame things the best you can, hope you don’t spook the horse into going somewhere else, pray that focus is tight, and start snapping the shutter. Maybe you wanted the horse to present a better profile, or if it would only approach you, the perfect image could have been had, but those moments are elusive and driven by flights of fantasy. Next time, the stars might align in a configuration I could have never imagined, and the zenith of my skills will finally find their outlet where I can feel like I’ve gained the experience to create a proper work of art. Until then, I don my well-worn hat of the amateur and am grateful for another opportunity to practice.

Cape Bonavista Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

Our first glimpse of the Cape Bonavista Lighthouse Provincial Historic Site.

Fox at Cape Bonavista Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

This beautiful fox will not be the only one we see out on this peninsula this morning, and while I initially thought it was begging for food, I quickly changed my mind, deciding it was simply curious about checking me out. I’ll admit that after seeing the other foxes yesterday, I tried offering them a morsel. Yes, I know that’s wrong, but they weren’t interested in the least, and I figured it would be the same situation here, not that I tested it. I can’t say that their approach was without apprehension on my part, as the somewhat aggressive motion toward me had me thinking about rabies or that they were angry about our proximity and about to fend us off. Instead, as long as I made no swift motions, they would approach, look at me, take a sniff from a safe distance, and return to the hunt. It makes sense that they cannot lose their hunting sense and rely on humans to throw them snacks as they have a long season of needing to fend for themselves when visitors are few and far between. Watching the foxes hunt was fascinating as it seemed obvious they were watching with their ears, following the movements of tiny rodents in the underbrush. Without being able to catch sight of them, when the catch was in the right spot, the fox would quickly bury its head deep in the bushes (maybe I should say goowiddy instead) to snatch breakfast from its hiding place.

Cape Bonavista Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

Add one more reason for our inevitable return to Newfoundland: this old lighthouse from 1843 was not yet open, which is a shame as the tower is visitable. Why would one want to climb the stone tower? The reason is obvious: the same seal oil-fueled catoptric light used back in the 1800s is still up there, and that’s something neither Caroline nor I have ever seen.

Caroline Wise at Cape Bonavista Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

For a minute, maybe less, I paid attention to Caroline bringing out Happy McKiteFace for a flight under the shadow of the lighthouse, but once I had an adequate photo, I turned my attention back to the foxes who were working the landscape hunting for food.

Cape Bonavista Lighthouse, Newfoundland, Canada

It is the wrong time of year to be here to see the local puffin colony that summers on a nearby rock or the whales that pass the point, and it is far too late in the season to witness icebergs floating by, lending the name Iceberg Alley to this northeast coast of Newfoundland. But it is the right season to see other delightful sights, such as the smile on Caroline’s face when I circle back to her flying her kite.

Near the Dungeon Provincial Park in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

If the lighthouse was Reason # 9 for our return to Newfoundland, I’ve just uncovered Reason #10, and it’s right here, though we didn’t understand where “right here” was when we were right here. Not only is this corner of the island around Bonavista part of the Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens ecoregion, but we were also on our way to the Dungeon Provincial Park, part of the Discovery UNESCO Global Geopark. Leaving Arizona weeks ago, I knew nothing about any of this. A shame, though, with such an ambitious itinerary to take in so many various points in the Maritimes, certain knowledge of these facts likely couldn’t have changed our plans, though our explorations might have been better informed.

Near the Dungeon Provincial Park in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

These photos are from the Dungeon area, though I’m not sharing a photo of that yet as it was cast in deep shadow during this visit. You will have to wait until after our next hike when, with a better position of the sun, we return to the Dungeon for a better look. First, though, what is the Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens ecoregion, you ask? Due to the area being exposed to the harsh North Atlantic Ocean with the combined influence of the cold Labrador Current and the warm Gulf Stream, the sloping, rocky peninsula experiences a unique climate with high precipitation, strong winds, and cool temperatures. This accounts for the almost treeless, nearly barren landscape dominated by low-growing shrubs, grasses, and mosses. That’s a quick explanation describing the area, and then there’s the geology that plays a large role, which is where the designation of Discovery UNESCO Global Geopark comes into play. A Geopark exemplifies a geological area of significance while also noting the cultural and historical importance of the region.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

The Dungeon was the first Geopark Caroline spotted on the map; another was nearby at Spillars Cove on the Cable John Cove Klondike Trail. It is called the Chimney. Later, we’ll stumble upon a third Geopark site, more of that when we get there. It turns out that there are ten sites in total, meaning we’ll have missed seven of them. But I need to back up. After our early visit to the Dungeon, we needed to head back into town because we’d agreed with our host that they’d drop off breakfast and coffee at our front door at 8:00. Following that, we packed up our things in the car and drove to the parking lot at the Chimney, or so we thought. With other cars parked at what looked like a trailhead and other people walking over the hillside, we figured this was the place. When our paths crossed, the other hikers on the way back to their car said that the Chimney had been their objective, but they had trouble finding the trail. Our confidence assured us that we knew what we were doing and their fate would not be ours.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Then, here we were, not at a crossroads but at an impasse, though not exactly that either, as we thought we could make out the faint hints of places others had walked, so we ventured forth.

Caroline Wise at Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe Chimney Rock is down one of these crevasses or over a cliff? Nope, nothing that looks remotely like a chimney.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe this is it? No way, a sea stack, maybe, but who cares? Our hike across the outcropping has been terrific, so who cares if we miss the main feature? It’s got to be out here somewhere, and it’s not like we can get lost, even if we have to retrace our footsteps over the boreal tundra.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

After maybe a half-hour of wandering the cliffsides, making impressions of new trails, we finally spotted the actual trail, which was confirmed to us when we saw a couple of hikers walking along. I yelled over to them, standing seemingly too close to a cliff for comfort, asking if we were on the right trail for the Chimney. That couple assured us we were now on the trail and said we should come over. I answered back, “It looks kind of scary to someone afraid of heights,” to which the woman replied, and I quote, “Oh, then you’ll poop your pants over here, come on!” This funny couple from British Columbia, Canada, seemed surprised when we pointed out which way we had come from, informing us that we must have been in the overflow parking area. The woman told us that this trail was one of her favorites in all of Newfoundland and that the best overlook of the Chimney was to our right, which was also the way back to the trailhead.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Good thing that we weren’t lost forever because who wants to read about two old people wandering the wilds of Newfoundland without water, food, sunblock, or common sense, with headlines exclaiming, “Tragedy befalls unprepared Arizona couple who left the trail and suffered a bitter end.” Elated, we stopped to take a selfie, proving that we were still alive on the ground next to the sea instead of some celestial cloud-like place in heaven. We now felt like professionals, intrepid explorers of the world, able to bushwhack our way back to civilization, or was that shrubwhacking? In any case, we kept our wits about ourselves and survived the ordeal to tell the tale.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Yep, that’s our trail, mere inches away from a death crack that takes visitors straight to a watery hell if they don’t wedge themselves in the narrow gap where they can starve to death instead of falling to their demise.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

By now, we thought that what is considered the Chimney somehow eluded our attempt to find it. Still, we are happy to have been here.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

We are resigned to make our way back to the car if only we could stop investigating every corner.

Chimney Rock UNESCO Geo Site in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Hey Caroline, “Maybe those signs over there…” Oh, look here, I think we found the Chimney. Had we found that other parking lot, I think our visit might have been finished in about 15 minutes instead of the hour we were out stumbling across a landscape in search of this elusive rock column that, in actuality, is quite easy, nee, impossible to miss.

Dungeon Provincial Park in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Not too far away, another gravel road brought us back to the Dungeon, the remains of an ancient sea cave that collapsed, creating this massive hole with dragon’s eyes. If you look to the right, an idiot banana dressed in human clothes is out walking on a trail that lets batshit crazy visitors circumnavigate the top of the Dungeon; my sphincter bristles in quivering fear simply writing this.

Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe you are thinking, “No way, this is too quaintly beautiful to be real,” I’d almost have to agree if it weren’t for the fact we were about to have lunch here. But this being us, nothing is as straightforward as it might seem; before arriving here at the Quintal Cafe, the open sign for the Sweet Rock Ice Cream Shop snagged Caroline’s attention like a loon catching sight of a favorite fish. I didn’t know it was snack time, and it certainly wasn’t lunchtime, but after talking with the guy in the shop for over a half hour, lunch started seeming like an option we should consider. Asking for his advice, he told us the best sandwiches in town were to be had at this cafe next door to the Boreal Diner, where we ate last night. As for the pre-lunch partridgeberry cheesecake ice cream, it was so-so. According to Caroline, there were not enough partridgeberries.

Not having put a dent in Caroline’s appetite, we pulled up to Quintal and quickly determined what we’d order. Had we an inkling of how ginormous lunch would be, we’d have shared something. Caroline wanted the fishcakes, and I opted for the turkey club sandwich, which the ice cream vendor had extolled as a great bargain and equally amazing. Oh My God, my dinosaur-satisfying sandwich was so big that half of it was packed up and put in the ice chest for some future meal should we again find ourselves in the wilds facing starvation. While I would have loved nothing more than to sit here, trying to catch up in some small way with the week of writing I was behind with, we needed to continue down the road under these beautiful skies of finding new things.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

Earlier, I said we’d stumble into a third Geopark. Well, here we are at the Capelin Gulch Fossil Site, quite by chance. Driving south of Port Union in the Melrose area, a spectacular view had us taking a small detour on a loop road, and then an even smaller loop had us trying to get closer. That’s when I caught sight of the Discovery UNESCO Global Geopark logo and made a quick left turn, informing Caroline that there seemed to be another Geosite down this road. Now at home, getting ready to write about this visit, it was nearly impossible to discover anything about it, probably because this and three other public sites were only brought into the Discovery Geopark system in mid-2023, and it seems that the internet hasn’t caught up with them yet.

Blueberries at Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

Is it our imagination, or do wild blueberries taste better than farmed berries?

Partridge Berries at Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

Caroline insisted these were partridgeberries and joyfully started popping them into her mouth. She handed me a couple; they seemed rather bitter instead of the sour taste I expected. They also had seeds. At some point, she thought maybe they weren’t partridgeberries but might have been lingonberries, but I told her that lingonberries don’t have seeds of that size. She tried reassuring me that they were some type of currant and safe to eat. I guess she was correct because I’m here able to write this.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

Approaching the rocky coast, we started seeing fossils and a nearby sign that informed us that the plant fossils found here are from the Ediacaran period of Earth’s history, or about 550 million years ago.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

There are fossils everywhere, but they are all fragments, and without a guide, we don’t know what we are looking at.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

There are hints of fossils everywhere, with more likely being exposed after each passing storm.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

The fragile resting on the resilient, the rare found on the common. Should we ever return to this exact place, there’s a likelihood that this rock will still be here, but this chance encounter with the snail shell will remain the only time in my life that I will have seen this particular shell before it returns to the fabric of elements. Maybe, if I were an enlightened entity, I’d understand that, in essence, we are always seeing everything in all as it transitions in and out of the matrix of temporality.

Capelin Gulch Fossil Site in Melrose, Newfoundland

While Caroline was busy over at the first cove, I continued down the rough path, trying to see where the trail continued until I came to a point where things got sketchy and too close to a cliffside to go on, and while I could see where the trail continued, I wasn’t certain that we’d be able to loop around, so this would be where we doubled back to where the trail began, except while Caroline was out in her world, she found a couple of urchin tests, its internal sphere-shaped shell, and a single raspberry, that we shared. A shared raspberry, that’s love.

Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

Was it the mural, the weather, or that we’d seen Port Rexton beer featured at one of the restaurants we’ve eaten at? Whatever the motivation, we pulled up and were happier for the experience, even if we were running slightly behind schedule. Walking up, we passed a small trailer on the other side of the brewpub; it was a spot to get a bite to eat called Oh My Cheeses. Without the slightest desire for food, we walked right by and into the brewery, looking for souvenir beer to bring back to the States. The pub’s interior is terrific, and after Caroline sampled a few of the beers on tap, we were heading back to the car with a small selection of cans when she voiced regret for not trying the beer slushie made with Sea Buckthorn Sour and peach lychee juice. We were not going to leave with regrets, but then again, we will leave with regrets.

After putting the beer in the car and walking past Oh My Cheeses again, the woman inside the trailer said hi, and we got to talking. Somewhere in the blurry sequence of events, one of us returned to the pub and ordered the beer slushie as we waited for a signature award-winning cheese sandwich known as the Violet to be made. We were definitely not hungry, but the description of homemade blueberry jam, bacon, and aged white cheddar topped with balsamic glaze and fresh basil persuaded us that if we split the sandwich, we’d find space. Plus, it was more like dessert, not that Caroline needed dessert after having started lunch with ice cream, but that’s of no consequence because, in the interim, we’d gone on a wild adventure involving getting lost in the wilds of Newfoundland, so this was more of a celebratory moment required to replenish those spent calories. Sure, we finished it, but this was where the regret came in following the gluttony of wanting it all.

Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

We were in Port Rexton, not for views, beer, or grilled cheese sandwiches, but for a hike on the Skerwink Trail.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

Being a contrarian, I opted not to start the Skerwink Loop Trail the official way, taking the trail under the large arched sign welcoming visitors. Instead, we headed up what essentially was the trail exit on the right. I think my main attraction for putting this trail on our itinerary was the sound of the name, which we learned is a local word for the shearwater seabird.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

Considering that we hadn’t arrived here until 4:30, we intended to nab a brief taste of the trail, turn around, and get back on the road for the three-hour drive to St. John’s still ahead of us. With the loop only 3.2 miles (5km) long and our routine walking speed of about 20 minutes a mile, we knew we could easily do the whole trail if we hoofed it. Of course, we don’t stop to gawk at beautiful sights on a walk through our neighborhood in Phoenix, nor do I pause to take 106 photos along the way. We also thought that if we weren’t making progress and felt we weren’t quite halfway, we could still turn around and bolt for the car. That common sense never reared its ugly head.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

Like salmon spawning, we worked against the stream of those who took the trail as intended and kept going further into the depths of the Skerwink Loop.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

The first part of the trail took us past a pond to White Cove Beach, leading to some minor elevation gain for a nice overlook of the Trinity Lighthouse. There was also a side trail with what appeared to be some serious elevation gain to an overlook at the top of the mountain, but we were racing against time, so it was easily skipped. Easily for me, not so much for Caroline. If she looks at the one StreetView panoramic image from up there, she might curse me or insist that next time we are in Newfoundland, we’ll complete that part of the trail.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

Once we reached the headland and the east side of the peninsula, the views became spectacular; not that the west side was Swiss cheese, but look at this. I don’t know if you can make out the trail that brings visitors to the edge, but that was a zone of butt-puckery I wasn’t ready to wrestle with.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

It turns out that this side of the trail is considerably sketchier, meaning it is what I’d consider a somewhat frightening amount of exposure on steep areas literally carved out of a cliffside, but the views are, without a doubt, stunning.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

And when you think you’ve been offered an adequate reward for the effort invested in hiking this trail, the payoff just continues.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

When we arrived at the trailhead, two women were also starting the hike late. They took the trail to the left, and somewhere along the way out here, we passed each other, probably at the halfway point, because the four of us arrived back at the parking lot just minutes apart. When they saw us getting in our car, they turned around and came back toward us for a chat. It turned out that they were identifying with our Arizona license plate as they, too, had driven from Arizona, from nearby Mesa, and were surprised to encounter us neighbors so far from home. As I appreciated their efforts and the speed at which they covered the trail, I had to ask their ages; they were 71 and 69 years old. I must take note to remember them and hope I remain inspired by their tenacity and great health, enabling them to enjoy such big endeavors.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

When one sees so many captivating sights, it’s easy to become lost in the perfect experience, leaving us wanting more. We entertain the idea that a subsequent visit should bring us back to this moment at the same spot, and while there are hints of those times when we return, it is the addition of new points on the map and adventures in proximity to a special place that has the effect of lending greater impact and draw after learning that we’ve not exhausted the possibilities to find new delights. While it is wonderful to revisit memories when impressions are so strong, I feel that gaining a more comprehensive overview begins the process of building a familiarity that lets us gather a sense of belonging.

Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, Canada

This philosophy can be difficult to live with when we rush through a place, as we have here this afternoon. But, as convinced as we are that it all deserves a second glance, there are probably 1,000 other locations next to shorelines here in Newfoundland we are yet to explore that will be equally enchanting. There is an undeniable wealth of experience collected when our impressions entice us, even while we are still standing in situ, that we must return as soon as possible. We are building the memories of legends where epic love stories have unfolded.

Baileys Pond near Lockston, Newfoundland, Canada

Then, a half-hour later, maybe more or less, we are somewhere else falling into yet more awe-inspiring moments; this is the nature of the vacations experienced by the two of us.

Terra Nova National Park in Newfoundland

Trans Canada Highway east of Gander, Newfoundland, Canada

This is not a photo of mulching, but nearby, there was a sign announcing that mulching of the roadside was taking place, had taken place, or would take place, and that got Caroline to wondering why Canada mulches their roadsides while the United States mows them. So, upon getting home, I asked Claude 3.5 Sonnet (one of my go-to handy-dandy AIs) what its thoughts were, and it shared ideas about nutrient return to the soil, better resistance to erosion, a better wilderness aesthetic, and potentially better-insulating properties during harsh winters. Then, after consulting both Claude and Meta AI Llama 3.1-405B about the composition of the photo, specifically the rock, it seems that there is a consensus that we are looking at granite, which they say makes sense considering this is bedrock from the Gander Geological Zone that was exposed in cutting the Trans Canada Highway. I also inquired about the thin topsoil, which they said was consistent with an environment scraped down to bedrock during the last glacial period when the ice was retreating and finally disappeared between 7,000 and 9,000 years ago, which doesn’t allow much time in geological terms for topsoil to collect.

Joey's Lookout in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

I can’t explain this as I’m unfamiliar with Canadian culture, but why the country adopted the nickname of Joey for Erich Honecker, the General Secretary of the Socialist Unity Party of East Germany, baffles my imagination. Maybe back when Canada was part of the Communist Bloc countries during the Cold War, Honecker visited Newfoundland and stood here, kind of like in 1976 when Queen Elizabeth II visited the Trinity Church in New York City, which was commemorated with a plaque noting her visit. Hey, Newfoundland, I was only joking. Joey’s Lookout was named after the former Newfoundland Premier Joseph R. Smallwood, who was born in Gambo. He was called the province’s “Father of Confederation” after bringing Newfoundland into Canada. Funny enough, Joey, as he was affectionately known, worked for the socialist newspaper The Call while living in New York City.

Gambo River in Newfoundland, Canada

From the moment I saw the view from the overlook, I was intrigued by what lay below, but we had places to be, so we kept going. That was until we began to cross the Gambo River, and I turned around for a better look at the rock-strewn riverbed. While maneuvering, Caroline found a smaller road that might take us right by the area we were looking at from the overlook, so we had to go. This little detour is now responsible for ten photos in this post, thus helping push the total to 55 images, which promises to make for an extraordinarily long blog entry.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

I had to wonder when we parked the car what exactly the sign “Use trail at own risk” was warning us about. Just what is ahead that warrants such a sign? Have I seen such a warning before on other hiking trails?

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

For the sake of brevity, I’ll try to keep the verbiage regarding the following photos to a minimum, as what can be said about cattails? Well, we now know from experience: don’t pick these and take them home because there will come a time when the temperature and humidity reach a sweet spot that will have the cattail bloom, and you’ll come home to an explosion of cattail fluff, a lot of fluff I can tell you.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

From the Aster family of flowers, pretty, huh?

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

A couple of dozen islands in the river channel made the view from the overlook so interesting.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

With my jaw agape and eyes peeled, looking for the perfect beauty shot that stood out from all the other beautiful places, I scoured the area, trying to determine the best range of colors and textures of surfaces. It is only now, back at home and writing these posts, that I can understand that part of the attraction I couldn’t appreciate while in Newfoundland was the relative uniformity of the ground reflecting the work of those glaciers that have created the conditions for the land to appear as it does.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe I’ve seen similar things in other locations, possibly in Alaska or Wisconsin, I’m not sure, but I can say that after witnessing countless terrains and ecosystems that have shared an incredible diversity of life, colors, shapes, contrasts, and challenges to my senses, everything is forever feeling new like they are greeting me for the first time.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

Sure, the focus is on the aster, but I also hoped the shallow depth of field allowed the lichens to show through, and while difficult to make out, I’m guessing that the rock is something found in the area called amphibolite.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe I’m looking at biotite gneiss or schist; I can’t really know, seeing how I’m not a geologist, but I’m certainly a curiologist.

Trail on the Gambo River in Gambo, Newfoundland, Canada

This old bridge is a remnant of the railroad that once ran across Newfoundland, but in 1988, after suffering years of financial losses, the Trans Canada Highway made it fully obsolete, and on September 30th of that year, the last train made its final run. This is also the end of our detour, but not before I note that the old railway line was converted into the Newfoundland T’Railway Provincial Park that runs from St. John’s to Channel-Port aux Basques with branches going to Bonavista, Carbonear, Lewisporte, Placentia, and Stephenville, thus creating a trail system that is 549 miles long (883 km) and suitable for hiking, snowmobiling, or mountain biking. A couple of days ago, Caroline noted that we spoke with a couple at the Lobster Cove Lighthouse in Rocky Harbour. Something they shared was their lament that they’d only visited Newfoundland for the first time the year before and now wished for more time to explore the island, which brings us to Reason #8 for a return that might be an impossible dream: riding the length of the T’Railway while balancing other obligations, curiosities, and the fact that we are aging. Reading our notes at the bridge, I’d be amiss if I didn’t share that we were just as quickly gone from there as it was extraordinarily windy, but not before we spotted a seal spying on us from the water.

Terra Nova River in Newfoundland, Canada

Crossing over the Terra Nova River means we are only a couple of miles from the border of Terra Nova National Park and about ten minutes from its visitors center. Regarding this name, Terra Nova is Latin for New Land and was the original Portuguese name for the island.

Bridge near Visitor Center in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

I’ll never remember the woman’s name at the visitor center who helped us navigate the course of our visit, but I hope never to forget how incredibly friendly and enthusiastic she was about guiding us into a course of exploration that would make for such a memorable day in the Terra Nova National Park and allowed us to gather the best sampling of the diversity found here.

Bridge near Visitor Center in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

At Newman Sound, we crossed a small arm of a much larger arm leading to the Atlantic Ocean while walking over the bridge pictured above this photo. This is one end of the Coastal Trail, a 5.9 mile (9.5km) out-and-back hike of which we’ll only be exploring a small part for a quick impression before moving on.

Coastal Trail near Visitor Center in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

We walked about a half-mile along the coastal inlet before turning around and heading to our next location.

Goowiddy Path in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

On the north side of the visitors center, we explored the Goowiddy Path, which was supposed to lead us to an interesting feature a short way up the trail. Goowiddy is a Newfoundland word for low shrubs.

Barachois on the Goowiddy Path in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

That area of interest is what is called a Barachois, which means a sand or rock bar that forms a lagoon. It was the recommended end of our walk here on the Goowiddy Path, which has been popular with birds, especially a couple of kingfishers, which we were lucky enough to hear before seeing them fly off. This bird is more likely a sandpiper as the willets have typically migrated by the end of August, but we can’t really know as this is all we saw of this little guy.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

From that obviously busy and overcrowded area near the visitor’s center, we made our way to the Southwest Arm Trail, where we did not encounter another person. The truth is that we didn’t bump into anyone else on the Coastal or Goowiddy Paths, either. This national park is pretty quiet at this time of year.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Here it begins: the trail, the mottled sunlight, shadows, and shades of greens, grays, and browns conspire to pull us into a trance. The visual song of the forest is a lullaby that brings us deeper into ourselves as we sink into the environment.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

To linger here and return again and again, even if only by photos and words, is the clear objective of giving in to the seduction such places can affect upon those of us with inclinations towards being in love with the world when for a short amount of time, we have escaped the chatter of minds concerned with things human and are returned to being one with nature.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

The beavers that built this pond are not concerned with yesterday or tomorrow. They, by their nature, live in the moment where the instinctual tasks demanded by their existence allow them to tend to a life with purpose in a universe shaped largely by their actions to sculpt such places.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Our opportunities to escape the noise within our heads are rare. Even when looking out upon perfection, there’s often a critical mind that, through our ignorance, suffering, or other afflictions, we cannot escape those situations to allow ourselves to fall into these scenes. Those who kayak these waters, fish, and camp along their shore are the fortunate ones. They are returning to the solemnity of presence after having learned the important life lesson: this is what feeds your soul.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Somewhere under that entanglement of twigs and branches is the palatial mansion of a beaver family in whichever way that is configured in their kingdom. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a grandiose beaver lodge, but I’d wager that if I were a beaver, I’d feel like the winner of the billion-dollar lottery and that I was living on easy street.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Come to think about it, here Caroline and I are in the rare position of finding ourselves 3,988 miles (6,418km) from home, standing over a lush green carpet of moss. At previous times in human history, it would have required no less than 235 days to walk here, and that would be with the availability of a trail, ease of finding food and water, and weather that would have worked in their favor. Instead, people can come here from just about anywhere else on Earth in fewer than 24 hours to enrich their lives, should they begin to understand what the attraction to such sights can do for them.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Missing one wing and completely motionless, we thought that this dragonfly was dead; that is until I got closer than this, and those wings started buzzing as it lifted off the boardwalk and moved on to somewhere else.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

If my puny brain worked on my behalf with the rigor I’d like to exercise, I’d share a story here of the infant slug and mushroom that would carry a valuable lesson loaded with knowledge as important as any of Aesop’s fables, but my abilities fall distantly short of manifesting that type of genius.

Southwest Arm Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

With this image, I bring you to the end of our visit to the Southwest Arm Trail.

Blue Hill Overlook in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

This is the fourth destination we visited in the park today, the Blue Hill Overlook. The view looks out over the boreal forest of the park, and the sliver of water towards the foreground is the Blue Hill Pond, while the larger body of water is the long finger of the Atlantic Ocean reaching far inland from the Bonavista Bay.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Blue Hill Overlook in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

We’ve found these Muskoka chairs seemingly everywhere as we travel through the Maritimes, and while Americans might want to call them Adirondack chairs, the Canadian version has a curved back (yolk), distinguishing it from the American variant.

Blue Hill Overlook in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Need a mountaintop privy? Caroline did, and this outhouse served its purpose. Strangely, there was no sign pointing out that this toilet was nestled away for the convenience of visitors back in the trees. I didn’t peer in, so I can’t share what one should expect in a Canadian outhouse in a national park, but Caroline has that first-hand experience. Maybe she’ll tell us a thing or two about what to expect at the end of summer. [All I can say is that it was in good shape, not bad at all. – Caroline]

Pissamare Falls on the Coastal Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

We are back on the Coastal Trail, but at the other end, where the Pissamare Falls are located.

Coastal Trail in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

By the time we leave Terra Nova later this afternoon, we’ll have walked approximately 7 miles (11km) of the trails in the park, leaving about 42 miles (67km) of trails to explore should we return to Newfoundland. Is this Reason #9? Let’s ask Caroline. [I’d love to come back and, this time, climb all the way to the top of the… oh wait, we’re not there yet! Keep going, gentle reader. Caroline]

Fire Tower at Ochre Hill in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Our second-to-last destination for the day is the fire tower at Ochre Hill. When we arrived at the tower, it was a bit more overcast than seen here, but the sky had time to clear while we talked with a German couple who’d been traveling around North America for months in a camper van they had shipped over from Germany. After talking with them for a solid half-hour, another couple came walking around a corner, who also turned out to be Germans. There we were, five Germans and an American, not a Canadian in sight – what are the odds? [Even funnier was that they were all from Bavaria – Caroline] Before leaving, Caroline wanted to go up the tower. She made it two-thirds of the way before the metal grating that allowed her to see the ground below and the strong winds convinced her she’d seen enough. The photo of the view she took is terrific on her phone, but should you want to see just how terrific it is, visit Terra Nova for yourself. It’s well worth the effort.

View from Ochre Hill in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

My fear of heights stopped me from stepping on that tower. There were witnesses below who might have noticed my display of fear. I preferred to be aloof and appear not to care about such things because I’m an idiot. This view sucks compared to what my wife saw.

Ruffed Grouse near Ochre Hill in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

On our way down Ochre Hill, this ruffed grouse was apparently trying to figure out life because right there on the road with our car heading towards it, it seemed to be contemplating its options. I expected the bird to skedaddle as I stepped out of the car and that my opportunity to get a closer shot would be lost, but no, it just moved around and continued to pose for my camera. That only lasted until I pressed my luck, trying to get even closer to capture more details of this gorgeous bird.

Red Admiral Butterfly at Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Our seventh and final location in the Terra Nova National Park today is at Sandy Pond, where we encountered another winged object of beauty, this red admiral butterfly. I suppose this place right here is a good spot to note that a few days ago, Caroline learned of the passing of her dear friend, Sandy Gally. The two met on August 8, 2008, at a natural dying workshop in Blue, Arizona, and have been friends ever since. Sandy had experienced health issues for some time, but still, like so many deaths, hers arrived out of thin air in some ways.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

It took Caroline a few days for the news to sink in, and it was here in the park that she felt the first inklings of grief and the loss of her friend.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

I just learned a lesson about writing. It’s difficult to come back from sharing information about a friend’s passing to the flow of discovery and delight.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Mortality, though, is an important topic, one that I’m well aware of and consider often, possibly too often. At 61 years of age, with some morbidities potentially accelerating my demise, I cannot ignore the significance that on my horizon stands an exit, hopefully, a distant one. That portal may not be paved with the verdant cover and abundance of life growing out of what has come before it, such as we see in the forest. My death is not of much concern to the inevitable state I will fall into, as I understand that any potential future will not include my presence at some point yet to be determined, but there is the matter of what I leave behind. I don’t mean the fertilizing potential of my ashes or remains; I’m more concerned about the woman who will find herself alone. True, the reverse could be my situation where unexpectedly, she departs before me, skipping out on the pain of being without the other who has brought so much shared joy into each other’s life. On the other hand, this is a futile exercise of thought, as none of us have figured out how to read the future, and we never know the fate that awaits us, even what tomorrow or the turning of the next corner has to offer.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

For now, the next corner offers ferns in a light that begs for capturing by my lens and putting away those other thoughts that are, at best, amorphous and entangled in a complexity of threads that have no resolve.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

If AI is to be trusted (and why shouldn’t it?), this lichen is likely known as Old Man’s Beard, and I suppose mine resembles this description, so I’ll go with it and state that unequivocally and without a doubt, this is Old Man’s Beard.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

There are moments when we are on these trails and then again when we are at home looking at these images that we are absolutely incredulous that we were allowed to be here, that we had the wherewithal to place ourselves in such an environment, and that life has smiled so kindly upon us that this was our fortune. We are not millionaires; we have not inherited a thing, and we must sacrifice other things to bring ourselves into these rare experiences. How rare? Only about 40,000 people visit this national park annually, so just how many actually bring themselves out on this particular trail that is merely one of a dozen? It is more common in the United States to be a millionaire, as there are nearly 25 million of them, but we are part of that tiny group of 40,000 who know a fraction of the delights found here in Terra Nova.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Add to this that we are likely the only humans who have or will have ever seen these mushrooms, and this should inform you of the kind of wealth we collect. These are our unicorns, our genie in the bottle, the found diamonds in the rough waiting for our arrival.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Black spruce trees are a certain indicator that we’re in a boreal forest, also known as taiga. Dwarf plants and low shrubs make up large parts of the biome in these ecosystems due to the poor soil quality following the last ice age when glacial activity scrubbed these lands clean. Almost shocking for me was to learn that this type of environment is only about 12,000 years old, coinciding with those retreating glaciers and that they are the second in size only to deserts, covering 11.5% of Earth’s land area. Not only is the black spruce popular for making chopsticks, it is the provincial tree of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Recently, one of my social media feeds that drops random bits from history brought my attention back to Tollund Man, the 2400-year-old body found in the Bjældskovdal peat bog in Denmark, which had me thinking about our encounter with bogs (actually, I think we were visiting fens) and the sphagnum moss at their surfaces that is the most obvious indicator of the peat below. The difference between a bog and a fen is simple: a bog relies on precipitation for water, while a fen receives its water from the ground or accumulating flows draining from a slope or accumulating in a depression. This took me on the chase to learn more, and I found that these types of moss contain antimicrobial phenolic compounds that are high in acidity, have tanning properties, and are conducive to preserving things, including peat itself. Without peat, whiskey aficionados wouldn’t enjoy the same drink, some cultures would have gone cold with no other source for keeping a fire in their hearths, and a vast store of carbon wouldn’t exist. I wonder where else this exploration of sphagnum moss would go if finishing this post wasn’t my objective.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Sometimes, when you find the name of a plant, you want to share it for no other reason than that it’s an interesting one. This is royal dwarf sheep laurel.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Being in a national park, we knew better than to harvest anything, but upon getting home, I threw some Labrador tea into a shopping cart so we could try the drink popular with Athabaskans and the Inuit.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Circling around the eastern shore of Sandy Pond, we are reaching the end of the trail and are beginning to look forward to a break from our race to see as much of Terra Nova as we have.

Caroline Wise at Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

Maybe the name Sandy Pond should have made it obvious, and then after we arrived, the signs pointing to the swimming area could have been another clue, but a sandy beach was not in my book of expectations.

Sandy Pond in Terra Nova National Park, Newfoundland, Canada

We had one more raised boardwalk to traverse before returning to the parking lot, and again, outside of my expectations, there was this series of ponds to the east of Sandy Pond. I shot 480 photos on this day, and while sitting in a coffee shop writing this post a couple of weeks later, I cannot remember the circumstances surrounding this waterway, but I had an inkling of a memory that told me to check those photos I’m not including from that day. Sure enough, just before this series of four images stitched together in a panorama, there was a close-up shot of the entangled mess of branches that formed one small part of the beaver dams sequestering the waters we are walking above.

Hodderville, Newfoundland, Canada

Sometimes, our ability to execute our movements in coordination, allowing for the most accurate chasing of remaining light, hits the mark. Our stop at an Esso Station in Lethbridge also hit that mark, where I spotted a sign for the Dairy Bar that claimed to have dozens of soft serve flavors. Caroline tried insisting that we needn’t stop, but I prevailed, and lucky for her, I did. She left with a maple and blueberry mix of soft serve, and happiness doesn’t begin to describe her joy. We made one error, though: we paid before ever looking at their selection of hard ice cream, and they had Grape-nut ice cream. In addition to the maple soft serve her friend Christine had recommended, Caroline had also read about tiger tail and Grape-nuts ice creams on one of her favorite Internet sources, Atlas Obscura, and here it was. I ordered a scoop so we could try it, knowing that we’d probably throw most of it away, considering how much soft serve she had in the cup she was already eating. To my astonishment and her regret, she finished both.

Hodderville, Newfoundland, Canada

From the randomly painted trash bins in front yards to boulders and mailboxes, Newfoundlanders enjoy adding a splash of color to their environment.

Red Fox at Hodderville, Newfoundland, Canada

We were on a detour, not a big one, but one that was taking us up the west side of the peninsula where, in Hodderville, we encountered foxes that appeared far too familiar with passing humans, as in they were looking for handouts. This was our first time seeing black foxes, and while I got a photo of them, it was on the street, and this pretty red fox in the grass looked sweeter.

Russelltown Inn in Bonavista, Newfoundland, Canada

What a lovely room we checked into at the Russelltown Inn in Bonavista, but if we were going to have a hot dinner, we needed to get moving right back out of our luxury accommodations. A quick scan of options showed me that the Boreal Diner was our best bet, but they recommended reservations. I called, but they couldn’t seat us for another hour. But we could sit at the small 4-person bar immediately, and with that, we locked our room and walked over. Going over the menu, it only took a moment to decide on the 5-course tasting menu until we waffled, considered a 3-course variation, and finally settled on sharing the 5-course while adding an extra scallop appetizer and a tasting size portion of the maitake, carrot polenta, and mint sauce entree.

The restaurant is in a small two-story house and is an absolute gem, surprising us that something so grand should be in such a small town of 3,200 people. The scallop appetizer was the only dish that was wanting; it needed something, but it wasn’t there. No matter, the local bluefin tuna appetizer was amazing, especially the emulsion made from bluefin tuna bits and bobs. The duck preparations, one with a fennel puree and the other with a parsnip puree, were both perfect. The maitake dish hit its mark, and finally, our final entree was the seared ribeye cured in koji served with pickled mushroom puree, celery root, and pickled shallot. Remember all that ice cream and soft serve? That didn’t stop us from ordering dessert, one of which came with us; yes, we ordered two because we couldn’t settle on one. The blueberry cake was packed up, and the strawberry cake with local strawberries and a scoop of partridgeberry sorbet was packed in. It seems futile to point out that this was one more epic day in a sequence of epic days.